The Major glanced at the message. Amongst the military jargon it contained only one important sentence: “Employ any and every means to rescue the crew of the USS Montana without use of excessive force.” Major Pierce grinned at the wording. To him this was carte blanche.
He turned back to Tony. ‘I want a briefing of all team members at 1600 hours.’
Sean’s mobile pinged.
‘How are you feeling?’ Lomax asked with faux cheerfulness.
Sean touched the plaster on his face, a souvenir from Paris. The doc had patched up the finger, though the whole of his left hand and leg still throbbed. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘Well throw some clothes on. They’re ready to begin debriefing Khostov. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.’
Lomax arrived early and breezed into the flat. ‘How does it feel to have another mission under the belt?’
Sean regarded Lomax, refusing to answer directly. ‘Where are we going?’
Lomax shrugged. ‘Northwood.’
Sean grunted. It was where he trained and inducted into the service. Later in his career he returned occasionally to train recruits for the Section. Now it belonged to the PJHQ, headquarters to a tri-service organisation controlling British armed forces for the Royal Navy, NATO and the EU. Sean closed his eyes for the rest of the short journey.
When they arrived they were let into the gate by two Royal Marines from the 43rd Protection Group. A Sargent escorted them to a newly renovated brick-built block and showed them into an office with a tall ceiling. Coffee, tea and croissants lay on a side table.
Sean saw Khostov sitting at a wooden desk, looking every inch the eminent scientist. He was eating a croissant and sipping coffee from a mug. He rose to shake their hands, bowing slightly from the waist.
A fourth man entered the room. Sean recognised him as Daniel Cramer.
‘Ah, I’m glad you’re getting acquainted,’ Cramer remarked, smiling.
He looked innocuous in a grey suit and shiny black shoes, but Sean knew that beneath the good manners and cultured voice was a steely personality. The Section’s chief interrogator shook hands with Khostov, and nodded towards Sean and Lomax.
‘It’s nice to see you enjoying breakfast — do you prefer our croissants to the ones in Paris?’ he asked, half-jokingly. Cramer poured himself a coffee and settled into a chair. He brought out a small recording machine and set it on the table. ‘Please don’t be offended — I record every briefing. You wouldn’t believe how tedious my voice sounds to me when you’ve listened to as many recordings as I have.’
He retrieved a pad and pencil from his briefcase. ‘I want to understand why you wanted to come here. I will need to go back to where you were born, your education and career, and particularly your recent employment. Now I won’t understand everything to do with your work — I’m not a nuclear physicist — so I may ask you to explain various points in more detail. Are you OK with all of this?’
Khostov nodded, and they continued. Three hours later Cramer had brought them up to date on his background. They discovered that Khostov was divorced and had a 15 year old son called Levushka. Cramer also learnt about his work at the Joint Institute for Nuclear Research in Dubna and his recent friendship with Nic Tyler. Cramer suggested they broke for lunch.
An hour later they were back, and Cramer began the second session.
‘Why did you come to the UK?’
‘I feared for my life.’
‘Tell us why.’
‘I told you about Nic. We were great friends. He worked for US Shale on a joint project to build the next class of Floating Nuclear Power Platforms. I was co-opted to help with the design work on the reactors.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nic came to me one day with specifications he had for some parts they had ordered for the reactor. He wanted me to check that they were the right specification.’
‘And?’
‘And they looked fine to me. But Nic was still concerned. He told me in confidence that the manifest he’d received from the shipping company didn’t tally with the spec he had ordered.’
‘Where were the parts from?’
‘China, mostly. He told his boss, and he must have spoken to someone at GazArtic.’
‘What happened then?’
‘The cargo was already on the way. They decided to halt the ship at the nearest port, and sent Nic to inspect the manifest. He was to check if the parts were the right spec, and to telephone us with the result.’
‘Which port?’
‘Tiksi. It’s the main port of the Laptev Sea.’
‘Did you hear from him?’
‘He never telephoned.’ Khostov looked at Cramer intently. ‘And he never came back.’
‘What did you conclude?’
‘He was murdered, obviously.’
‘By whom?’
Khostov shrugged. ‘I can’t say.’
‘But you must have an idea?’
‘Yes, perhaps. It’s not unusual to discover on big projects like this that someone is fiddling the books, raking off millions, and sometimes thousands of millions of roubles.’
‘Is that why you came to the UK?’
‘Yes. I realised at once that whoever killed Nic would start looking for me.’
‘Leaving your son behind?’
Khostov paused, absentmindedly supporting his chin with his arm.
‘Alexei,’ said Cramer. ‘You fled Russia in fear of your life. Didn’t it occur to you he would be next on their list?’
‘No.’ The word came out in a strangled voice. Khostov gazed up at Cramer. ‘I am ashamed to say that I..’
‘You forgot about your son?’
Khostov bowed his head. ‘In the heat of the moment, yes.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can’t explain it. The fear of what they might do when they caught me was overwhelming. I couldn’t think of anything else, except escape.’
‘You wanted asylum?’
‘Not at first. I thought I would be safe with friends.’
‘But you brought some collateral with you?’
‘Collateral?’
‘You know, insurance that might protect you.’
‘Ah, yes. Yes, I did.’
Cramer flipped over a page of his notes. ‘You brought a copy to a firm of solicitors. Winfield Mantel LLP?’
Khostov looked surprised. ‘Yes, how did you know that?’
‘We discovered the fact after Winfield Mantel was burnt down to the ground.’
Khostov examined the floor. ‘I am sorry.’ He looked up. ‘I asked them to keep another copy.’
‘Yes, I expect you did. Their archive store across the river was gutted.’
Khostov let out a deep sigh.
‘I must say, you don’t look too concerned.’
Khostov shook his head. ‘Not really.’
‘You have another copy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where?’
Khostov considered the little group. ‘You have all been good to me. He looked at Sean. ‘You saved my life in Paris.’ He turned towards Lomax. ‘And you kept your word. I am beginning to understand why many of my countrymen come to London to live.’
Cramer glanced at Sean and Lomax, then back to Khostov. ‘You know we are here to help you. What is it you want?’
‘A new identity for me. And my son, Levushka.’
There was absolute silence in the room. Cramer scrutinised Khostov’s face. ‘You want us to bring your son out of Russia?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you think we should go to the trouble, just for some specification documents?’
‘The papers didn’t contain just the specifications for the FNPP. They contained other information as well.’
‘About what?’
‘Something I have been working on for a long time. You could call it a personal crusade. I have seen so many of these projects fail simply because a politician in the party machine siphons off most of the money before it gets to the right place.’