by Tim Heath
“Could just be economics. Highest bidder and all?”
“Could be. Thanks for letting me know. If anything else comes up on that, would you let me know?”
“Yes, of course. Look, Charlie, I know we didn’t get off to the best start, but it was nice working with you on this one.”
“Yes, likewise. Once you get through that cold exterior, you aren’t all that bad either.” She punched him gently in the arm after that but was smiling.
“Maybe we can go out for a drink again sometime, for old times’ sake.” Charlie wasn’t so sure about that idea.
“Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how this all pans out first.” He didn’t know if he’d be called into anything more, or moved to a new case altogether. “We still have this supposed next entry from the device, remember, that is meant to prove something to someone.”
“Yes, of course. Well, we’ll be in touch then,” she said, not wanting to labour the point anymore. He obviously wasn’t interested in seeing her again outside of work, so best make an early exit to avoid upset. “I need to go. Thanks for coming by, Charlie. You know your way out,” and with that, she left. Given her behaviour over the last month, her reaction at that moment did somewhat surprise him. He let it drop and walked out, knowing the exit only too well. He headed for the pub. There was a full afternoon of Premier League matches to follow, and it was meant to be his day off, after all.
18
It was a cold November day at the beginning of a new week. The streets of Moscow had a thin layer of snow, though it was far from white by the time people had made their way into a small Kremlin suite of offices tucked away from prying eyes. Elena Lubova chaired the meeting herself. There were plenty of people in the shadows of the grand room they were using, but her face could clearly be seen. She was not one to hide.
“We’ll use English, please, gentlemen,” she said as she began proceedings. It was a strange request, but it was her meeting. She could do as she pleased. Her own English was perfect, in keeping with her upbringing. She liked the way the language sounded in her mouth and the relative quiet of life in the UK. But Russia was in her blood, and her mother tongue offered most when emotion was needed. She pulled in her chair even closer to the desk. It seemed even her slim waist would be unable to fit, but it somehow did.
“Gentlemen,” she started, as apart from herself, this was a male-dominated room. Still, she held the power today. “Last week saw the trial outcome of the murder of one of our own. Having pushed for the death penalty successfully, we must keep strong in the face of changing circumstances. The UK is already kicking up a fuss, but we must continue regardless. We must show ourselves the stronger, more determined nation. We must not back down now.” The room was filling with national pride. A toast was made despite the early hour of the day. It was five pm somewhere.
“This last week,” she continued, “we’ve managed to carry out one of the quickest trials in modern Russian history. It’s the first death penalty case in a decade, and our job now is to push through the application of this sentence within the month.”
There was a murmur around the room now. It would be unheard of to process something that quickly. The last man found guilty on such a charge, and the Moscow metro bomber was still awaiting execution years after his conviction. No one dared say a word at that moment.
“It’s going to be a busy month for us all. First, we need to bury Hackett. What he has done has been to try and strike at the heart of who we are, this very room itself.” That certainly made everyone sit a little less easy. “It was nothing but an act of treason, and he has rightly been found guilty. We also have the sale of RusCom which we’ll need to have validated before the New Year holidays. Gentlemen, there is a lot of money at stake here, and you need to understand that unless we work together unless we each do our bit, then our piece of the prize will not materialise. Each of you has a responsibility. I need you to do what has been asked of you.
Tomorrow, the judge is going to make the application for the sentence of death to be ratified by the very government that gives him the power to judge, and you are not to disappoint him. In reply, you will all agree to the suggestion that the sentence is carried out immediately. State whatever risk you can think of; that the British are planning to take him, or the risk of the man taking his own life. Whatever. Spin it however you like, but he is to be executed post haste. Have I made myself understood?”
There was a general noise of approval, which grew as the voices joined together until it was almost a battle cry.
“Welcome to a brave new world, Comrades,” she said. “This New Year will offer our country a new start. We’ll hit the West where it hurts them most. They won’t know what to do about it. They won’t have any options.”
A final toast was made. The men started to get up, avoiding the shadows of the room for fear of who they might annoy and each left without saying another word. They all had a lot of things that needed to be done. Turning to her side, the room empty of all but one person, Elena said one more thing.
“Well, that seemed to go well. Before the month is out, this could all be over.”
The Home Office had been meeting all day Tuesday trying to sort out the mess happening in front of their eyes. For his part in things, Charlie was present as was Zoe. Both had been pushed together from the start.
“This is getting totally out of hand,” had been the opening statement from a senior figure in the Home Office. Two other more senior MI6 personnel had been pulled into things. Charlie, seeing his boss and boss’s boss present didn’t know what he’d do next. Maybe even his job was at stake. He and Zoe had been the first to meet with Bill following his arrest. It was primarily their report that led the Home Office to make their recommendation that they should accept the extradition order.
“Is there anything Six can do?” the spokesman had then said, turning to the party of three from military intelligence.
“Officially, no. We don’t get involved in civilian cases, only matters that threaten the safety of the country.”
“And unofficially?”
They looked at each other and then to Charlie, the only active field agent present. It was Charlie who spoke next.
“I’m not sure what angle we have on it. We’ve ruled out snatching Bill. Even if it had been possible, the political fall-out would take things to a new low. This is a man we deemed guilty enough to send to Russia in the first place. It would challenge the foundations of our democracy if we were seen to disagree with a jury verdict and act in an aggressive, forceful way. Especially in Russia.”
“So what can you do?” the spokesman asked, frustrated already by the long, negative answer he was hearing.
“I have some connections,” Charlie said, “but there is no way I can travel to Russia without drawing attention. I’ll need some cover. Maybe the UN would work, or something. I can look to dig a bit. But I’d be clutching at straws, at best.”
“It might be all we have to go on. The PM is being frozen out by the Kremlin. They don't agree to enter into a dialogue on this one. They are even pulling personnel from their London Embassy.”
“What are they expecting?” Zoe said.
“I don’t know. For now, we carry on as usual. Mr Hackett’s legal team, for whatever it's worth, is pushing for an immediate appeal.”
“I thought the judge ruled out an appeal,” Charlie said.
“He did. But they’ll press anyway. They have grounds. It’s the speed of it all that worries me.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Charlie added. “I’ve been around Russia long enough to know things don’t usually work this fast. I mean, they have the potential and the ability to do things as we’ve seen, but it rarely happens like that. This has taken a lot of people in all the right places to be working together to bring a result as swift and as complete as this one.”
“What are you suggesting, Charlie?” said his most senior boss, who was fully aware of his young agent’s connections in Russia.
&nb
sp; “They’ve had help from the Kremlin. Russia is very top-heavy when it comes to power. All the real muscle is right at the very top. Something this big, this decisive, must have come from on high.”
“The President?”
“Ultimately, possibly, but certainly the inner core. And that’s where I might be able to get some answers, but it isn’t going to be easy.”
“You mean the mother,” said the same senior boss, aware as he was of Charlie’s previous connection to Anya, daughter of two such well-connected parents. The relationship had always caused the British some concern, not to mention both parents. “I thought they all hated you now?” Zoe couldn’t help but smile at that last comment as she turned to see what Charlie would say.
“Yeah, they probably do. But it’s my only way so I’ll have to try my best.”
“Okay, let me know how things go. Whatever you need, we’ll provide for you. There is a UN conference in Switzerland looking at energy conservation happening this week. I think that would act as suitable cover for you, don’t you?”
“Only if I’ve someone to meet. Let me work on that one, and we’ll see where it lands us, shall we?” Charlie’s part in the meeting was over. He left them to it, Zoe watching him go, longing to travel with him once more, having enjoyed the bigger picture she’d been exposed to these last weeks. She settled back into the meeting at hand, which went on to look at possible political sanctions the British could levy on Russia. The longer she sat there, the more she realised their only real hope of answers and a possible turn-around sat with Charlie, wherever he might get to with his connections by the end of the day.
The following morning Charlie had his travel bag packed once more and was heading to the airport. Papers had been arranged for him to travel to Zurich for an energy conference the UN was hosting in the Swiss city. Through several attempts, Charlie had finally managed to get Anya interested enough to come across and meet him. She was due in later that same day and was far from thrilled with the idea.
Charlie took the ten o’clock commuter flight directly to Zurich and was there in time for lunch. He’d checked into a decent four-star hotel just around the corner from where the conference was being held, which was actually in another hotel. Most of the delegates were staying at that other hotel, and for Charlie, the relative seclusion of his hotel would give him the perfect opportunity to arrange his meetings without overly drawing attention to himself.
Charlie showed his face at the opening of the conference, which started that same afternoon. Anya was not due to land until six, so he had a couple of hours. As the UN energy gathering had been his reason for travelling to Switzerland, Charlie thought it wise to be visible from the outset, mingling as he did with the crowd, talking to no one in particular. Charlie knew no one there, nor did anyone know him. He didn’t know how many of the guests knew each other that much. He hadn’t drawn any real attention to himself, didn’t apparently have anyone watching him as he made his exit from the building just as the second session was about to start. The drinks had been excellent, after all. It was nearly half six as he walked up the main steps to his hotel, entering the lobby and ordering another drink, this time something stronger, from the lobby bar. He went over and sat down at a table that gave him a good view of everything and fixed his eyes on the door. It was like sitting at the start of a rollercoaster ride at the fairground. There was a nervous excitement about it all with an element of danger. He was not afraid of conflict or violence; the threat was the spark they had once and dealing with the situation now that the flame was no longer there.
It was seven when her taxi pulled up in front of the hotel. Charlie spotted her getting out of the cab immediately, and he could pick her out of a crowd of a thousand any day. It was the way she stood, the way she moved. Seeing her again this last month had become difficult. He knew he still had feelings for her, and they’d never gone away in fact. She was the one who had gone away, far from him both in distance and emotion.
Anya walked in through the main doors, scanning the lobby with a trained look that only another security agent would notice. She had apparently spotted Charlie but didn’t signify the fact. Their meeting was not public knowledge, after all. She checked in at the front desk, being given her room key and some information about the hotel. Charlie could see the hotel staff member indicating where the lifts were, motioning with his hand to the left of her as she stood with her back to Charlie, facing the reception counter.
“My, you do still look so good from behind,” Charlie said under his breath. No one heard him. He found himself watching her as she moved away, apparently heading for the lift. She glanced, just briefly, his way as she walked. She didn’t seem ready to eat him alive, so he took that as a good start. He knew he had a long way to go with her. It was going to be a fascinating day ahead of them. They had very little time. This type of opportunity rarely came around. Two security agents from competing nations coming together under the radar to discuss an ongoing operation. Neither of their governments would be happy if they knew what was going on, though the Russians would undoubtedly be angrier. They had the most to lose. She was now out of sight, evidently going up to her room. The hotel had ten floors. He’d been booked in on the seventh, a medium grade room in keeping with his cover. He sat there wondering on which floor she was staying, what it would be like to have her waiting so close once more. A waiter came over to take his empty glass away, which thankfully for him broke the fantasy.
“Can I have another of those, please,” Charlie said.
“Of course,” came the fluent reply; the Swiss being so good with languages. The waiter went off to make the drink.
By eight thirty, with a further two drinks finished, Charlie got up and walked towards the lift. He didn’t know what to expect, and nothing had been planned. But in his heart of hearts, he had hoped she would have emerged at some point by then. He imagined her coming down in some casual dress, sitting nearby but not too close, before ordering a drink. Then they would just start a conversation as if they were two guests getting to know each other. In his alcohol-induced thinking, he had envisioned one thing leading to another as the night had gone on. Now, in the reality of the moment, he wasn’t going to see her. They’d just have to bump into each other at breakfast, which he’d now make sure they did. The lift arrived, and he got in, alone, and pressed the button for the seventh floor. How he had hoped that it would have been different. The fantasy indeed seemed more exciting than the reality. Getting out on the lift once it had reached his floor, there was no sign of anyone. Charlie took as much time as possible to open his room door, making noise for the sake of it, but there was no one emerging from any room nearby, no female stirred by the sound in the corridor. No Anya coming to look for her Charlie. He walked in, shut the door and kicked off his shoes. They sat in a messy pile next to another pair of shoes by the door. Charlie watched a little news but soon turned the television off. Twenty minutes later he was asleep.
19
Charlie woke to the sound of his phone ringing just after eight the following morning. It was London calling.
“Speak to me,” he said, still a little bleary-eyed. He didn’t want to let on that he’d just woken up.
“There’s just been news out of Russia, Charlie, that we thought you should know. The legal team have got Hackett’s trial up for appeal. It’s being looked at again by a panel of three judges on the second Monday in December.”
“That’s just over a week away?” he said, a little confused. It seemed short notice.
“Yes, it is. Are you okay there, Charlie?”
“Yes, of course, I am okay. Thanks for letting me know. Must go,” and with that, he hung up.
Jumping out of bed, Charlie went into the bathroom, turning on the shower to start warming up the water, which it did in a matter of seconds. He got in, washed as quickly as he could. Five minutes later Charlie was putting the finishing touches to his hair, his business attire still looking fresh, though he would polish
his shoes once more. He unclipped the name badge from his suit, leaving it in the jacket pocket. Charlie wasn’t sure if he would be going back to the conference at all again today, anyway. Now ready, he took the room card from the holder by the door, the lights going off moments after and he was out into the hall and at the lift in no time. Still, he was alone, and as the lift arrived, he walked in and pressed the button for the first floor, where the restaurant was situated. It was time for breakfast. Walking into the dining room and being shown his table, he was initially annoyed not to see Anya in there. Having given his order to the waitress for a pot of tea and some toast, he spotted Anya over by the buffet. She was there after all. Charlie stood and walked over to the buffet himself. He picked up a plate, moving along the table adding a slice of cheese, some salami and more tomato than he’d be able to eat. He was now standing next to Anya.
“Good morning,” he said. He was softly spoken to her that morning.
“Morning,” she offered back, moving towards the vast array of juices that were available, picking up an apple juice and placing it on her tray. She’d selected a far healthier breakfast than he had, from what he could see. Slices of various fruits, some nuts and seeds and what he assumed was natural yoghurt. She’d been mad for the stuff when they lived together. He still couldn’t swallow it. She walked over to her table, which was only two tables down from his. An elderly couple, presumably tourists, sat talking on the table between theirs. He followed her over, smiling at her as she sat down. She nearly returned the smile, but it gave way at the last moment to a look he knew too well. The grow-up-and-stop-playing-spies look. He sat down at his table and started to find the cheese and meat, buried as they were under a pile of tomato. His appetite wasn’t much, however, at that moment. Mostly, he just wanted to speak with Anya. To talk like they used to. Being so close and yet having to be so distant was agonising for him. She seemed to be doing just fine. He was determined to follow her out, no matter where he was up to with his breakfast. The toast came, as well as the tea, and he was barely through his first cup when Anya made the apparent signs that she was leaving. As naturally as he could, he too left things unfinished and pushed his chair back under the table. Charlie followed her out of the dining room, maybe ten metres behind. He got to the lift just as one arrived, Anya having called it moments before. They both got in. The doors closed behind them. She pressed number seven.