“She’s excited. She was awake early.”
“What have you told her?”
“That it’s a surprise holiday.”
“You didn’t tell her I’d be with you, did you?” questioned Charlie, the possibility of Sasha’s recognizing him in his mind.
“Of course not. Where are you? I can hear traffic.”
“On the street,” said Charlie, “looking for a taxi.” There was a grunt. “I’ve just flagged one down. I’ll be outside the terminal but not obvious.”
“I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”
“I love you. It’s all going to go as I told you it would.”
“I’ll look for you.”
Beckindale overtook the others but pulled directly in front, leaving the barrier of the four other vehicles that had built up between them and the MI5 men.
From the rear, Denning said: “Pecatnikov is three streets away.”
“They’re picking up Natalia and the child,” decided Briddle, his voice catching. He coughed, to clear the nervousness, one hand over the other, glad there was no tremor. The Makarov suddenly felt heavy in its holster, hard against his ribs.
“Charlie could be with them,” suggested Denning.
“Call Beckindale: warn him to be careful,” ordered Briddle. “Charlie won’t take the slightest chance.” Would it be possible here, outside Natalia’s apartment? If Charlie tried to resist it would provide the excuse but he’d planned to do it close, the Makarov hidden as much as possible and not with the others as witnesses. Nor in front of Natalia and certainly not Sasha. There’d be panic, hysteria: the child could get in the way, get hurt. Killed even. He didn’t want to shoot a child: wouldn’t shoot a child.
The log had switched from night to day registration by the time they got to the gate house and there was further delay going back to the security office inside the embassy to retrieve it to discover all three MI6 officers were recorded leaving the legation at 2:00 A.M., with the MI6 resident, David Halliday. All three were in Halliday’s embassy car. None of the names was listed on any of that morning’s flights, direct or transfer connections, from Sheremetyevo to London.
“And they wouldn’t have needed to leave at two A.M. to catch a plane,” said Warren.
“So where have they gone?” demanded Preston, rhetorically.
“I think I should tell London,” said Wilkinson.
“What’s there to tell them?” said Warren.
“We’re in enough shit already, according to what you’ve told us,” agreed Preston. “You really think it’s a good idea for London to know we’ve lost everyone we’re supposed to be leading all over Moscow?”
“I think it’s better than waiting until London hear it some other way,” said Wilkinson. “We were supposed to mislead them: we couldn’t physically stop them, could we?”
“You’ve got a point,” conceded Preston.
“I think we should tell London,” capitulated Warren.
“It’s definitely Pecatnikov,” declared Halliday. “It’s the next turning and Flood’s indicating.”
“I agree,” said Denning.
Briddle could feel the tremor now, not just in his hand but trembling through his arms, and he had to press his left leg hard against the floor to stop it pumping.
“Beckindale’s signaling,” said Halliday, unnecessarily.
“Stay back,” ordered Briddle. “Let’s not screw everything getting too close.”
“What are we supposed to do, if they’re all together?” complained Halliday.
“Leave it all to me,” said Briddle. “That goes for you, too, Jeremy. I make the approach alone. You stay back, guard against my being intercepted.”
“We should have gone through all this earlier,” said Denning.
“I’ll approach alone,” insisted Briddle. “But not here.” Even if Charlie was with them, he couldn’t shoot here. They’d have to halt way back from Natalia’s apartment to avoid being seen. Charlie would be warned by their driving up fast.
Beckindale had stopped just after the turn into the road, at least one hundred meters from Natalia’s known address.
“Stop here,” ordered Briddle, waving Halliday in about ten meters farther on. To Denning he said: “Tell Jeremy to keep out of the way: to leave me alone.”
“There’s a taxi pulling up outside,” said Halliday, straining through binoculars. “And there’s Natalia: must have been waiting just inside. Just Natalia and the girl. No sign of Charlie.”
“You all right?” Denning asked Briddle, from behind. “You’re shaking.”
“They haven’t any idea!” exclaimed Aubrey Smith, passing the printed message slip to Jane Ambersom, whom he’d summoned after Passmore’s alert.
“None. Nor any chance of finding out,” said Passmore, to whom Wilkinson had confessed.
“And we haven’t heard from Flood?”
“It’s all being done away from the embassy, away from secure lines,” reminded the operations director. “It’s all at Charlie’s lead. That’s the arrangement.”
“There’s no way Monsford’s people could have found out,” said Jane.
“It’s got to be some kind of MI6 move,” said Passmore.
“Our only link to Charlie is through Flood,” said Smith.
“We don’t have secure communication,” insisted Passmore.
“Route it through one of our European relays,” decided Smith. “We’ve got to warn Charlie.”
“Tell me where.” Sasha giggled.
“It’s a surprise,” insisted Natalia.
“Hot or cold?”
“Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.”
“You’re holding my hand too tightly,” protested the girl. “Mountains or flat?”
“Small mountains.”
“But we can swim: you packed my costume.”
“I hope we can swim. Do lots of things.”
“I wish you’d tell me where we’re going,” Sasha complained.
Natalia started forward at the sound of the mobile telephone. “We’re on our way.”
“I’m already at the terminal, waiting,” said Charlie.
“About thirty minutes.”
“No problems?”
“No.”
“I told you there wouldn’t be.”
“Who was that?” demanded the child.
“Someone from the airline, wanting to know we were on our way.”
“Vnukovo,” declared Halliday. “This is the road to Vnukovo.”
“Can they get to London from Vnukovo?”
“Direct and via a lot of other links,” confirmed Halliday.
“How far is the airport?”
“Maybe two miles.”
“We’ve got to be careful,” said Briddle. “Charlie might already be there, waiting. Drop us off at the approach to the terminal, before you park the car.”
Behind them, Denning broke wind.
Halliday said: “I won’t drive back with you. I’ll catch an airport bus.”
Charlie saw them before their taxi stopped, sure Natalia wouldn’t be able to locate him on the farthest side of the booth from which the baggage handlers and traffic supervisors operated. Natalia got out first, at once searching, and Charlie stepped out, saw from her facial reaction that she’d seen him, and withdrew. He had the briefest sight of Sasha before the booth blocked his view of their entering the building. Charlie hoped the unknown escort had picked them up inside. He’d failed to isolate any professional indicators earlier, getting his boarding pass from the prebooked electronic dispenser, and been reassured because it proved the expertise of whoever Flood had put there ahead of their arrival.
Charlie’s replaced contact emerged from the passage connecting to the parking and rental-car return, moving surely but unhurriedly, and slowed at the main entrance when Charlie stepped out for the second identification, pushing a previously withdrawn luggage trolley back into its line. Flood understood at once, offering Charlie the release coin to avoid the procedure with those already locked and said: “Briddle and the others can’t be found.”
“You think they’ve picked you up?”
“Possibly. At least one car stayed all the way from Pecatnikov.”
“You take over,” Charlie ordered, taking the man with him as they entered the terminal. “You give London the arrival details, make sure Natalia and Sasha get there. If there’s a challenge, I’ll distract.”