‘And you are confident he believes he is working for MI5?’
‘He has no reason not to.’
‘Good. This is a very important operation for the continuing security of the Russian people. There will be a medal for you.’
‘I’m not interested in medals. Just the money.’
Surov nodded. ‘There will be that, of course. The assassination will be the last operation for your students. Now that the British know what is happening, I am ordering the immediate elimination of all unactivated agents in the field.’ He smiled. ‘All except Jamie Spillane, of course.’
Jacob remained expressionless. ‘Sounds like Dolohov’s going to be busy.’
Again Surov nodded. ‘Dolohov. Yes. We need to speak about Dolohov. You have received a communication from him.’ For a split second Surov’s eyes showed signs of amusement at Jacob’s flicker of surprise. ‘You did not know that we monitor your e-mails? Of course we do.’
‘Of course,’ Jacob replied flatly. ‘What does Dolohov want?’
‘To meet you.’
Jacob raised an eyebrow in suspicion. ‘Bit of a coincidence?’
‘It is worrying. We can rest assured that Dolohov does not know the details of the Georgian operation. But it is unusual for him to make any contact with us at all.’
‘Any distress signals?’
‘On the contrary, he included his identification code with the message. It’s definitely from Dolohov.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Jacob replied. ‘If I wanted to get him to do what I said, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.’
The director looked perplexed. ‘Tricks up your sleeve?’ he asked before shaking his head in momentary annoyance at his lack of understanding. ‘There is,’ he said, once he had regained his composure, ‘every possibility that Dolohov has been compromised.’
‘Then you need to take him out,’ Jacob said. ‘Now.’
Surov’s eyes narrowed. He put his arms in front of him and pressed his fingertips together. ‘Dolohov is a valued agent,’ he said. ‘He has worked for this service – and the service that preceded it – for many, many years. Even before glasnost and perestroika.’ He smiled. ‘Especially before glasnost and perestroika. In the days of the old regime, he was a most committed patriot. That is not a quality you value highly, I know…’
Jacob gave him a dark look. ‘Patriotism’s a two-way street, Surov.’
‘Dolohov performed many…’ He inclined his head. ‘Many operations.’
‘Perhaps he just likes killing people.’
‘Perhaps,’ Surov acknowledged. ‘But he continues to be of great use to us even now. If he has truly been compromised, then yes, I would agree that action needs to be taken. But we owe him the courtesy of finding out. As you say, patriotism is a two-way street.’
‘Fine,’ Jacob said shortly. ‘Good luck.’
The director looked at him meaningfully. ‘Dolohov is an unusually skilled operator,’ he continued. ‘If he has requested a meeting with you, then a meeting with you is the only thing that will satisfy him. Anything else will scare him off. The Georgian operation will reach its conclusion in five days’ time. And with the end of your operations in Kazakhstan, it would seem that you are available to us for other purposes. Assuming, that is, that you remain committed to helping us?’
Jacob looked away for a moment. He felt the muscles in his face tense up. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Surov didn’t take his eyes from him. ‘Go to England,’ he said. ‘Determine whether Dolohov has been compromised. If not, speak to him. If he has, in that case you know what to do.’
‘So much for your two-way patriotism,’ Jacob muttered.
The FSB director answered immediately. ‘We are at least giving him a chance. That is more than the British government ever did for you, is it not?’
Jacob stood up. Already his mind was turning over. Getting to England would not be child’s play. He didn’t want to risk a fake Russian passport with UK immigration. If the alert had gone out about him, his likeness would have been distributed to all the ports of entry. No. He’d have to do something different. Get entry to another country using false papers and make his own arrangements from there.’
‘Can you get me to France?’ he asked the director.
‘Of course,’ Surov said mildly.
‘Then tell Dolohov I’ll meet him. Three days from now. 10 p.m. The statue of Eros in Piccadilly.’ He stood up and made to leave.
‘Sit down, please.’ A hint of steel in Surov’s voice.
Jacob hesitated, then retook his seat.
‘You have not been to the UK for some time.’
‘Six years.’
‘Many things change in six years. We informed you of your mother’s death. You were wise enough to stay away, not to let sentiment cloud your judgement.’
Jacob remained silent.
‘You will continue to do the same, I hope.’
Again, silence.
‘Your father is unwell,’ Surov said. Jacob could sense he was waiting for a reaction; he gave him none. Surov handed him a photograph: a bleak-looking building with lots of cars parked outside. Jacob thought he recognised it. ‘Very unwell. He is in residential care here. I am telling you this in case you feel the urge to go asking questions. The urge to hunt him out. You do not need me to tell you that this would be a very bad idea.’
Jacob put the photograph back down on the table. ‘He’s dead to me,’ he told the Russian.
Surov reclaimed the picture. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Very good. We will supply you with a passport and tickets to France within the hour. You need money? We will arrange it. You will be on the next flight out. Is there anything else you need from me?’
Jacob shook his head. ‘Nothing else,’ he said, before turning and leaving the director of the FSB alone with his thoughts.
Jacob Redman had not been gone more than a minute when there was another knock on the door of the office of Nikolai Surov. ‘Prikhoditye,’ the director intoned. ‘Come in.’
The man who entered was a good deal younger than Surov. He wore a neat but inexpensive suit, though the tidiness of his clothes was more than offset by the unruliness of his hair. He had sharp eyes and an unsmiling face. Surov indicated that he should sit down, but the younger man preferred to stand.
‘You were listening, Ivan?’
Ivan nodded. ‘Of course.’
Surov raised an eyebrow to encourage Ivan to continue speaking.
‘I do not trust Jacob Redman,’ Ivan said. ‘I have never made a secret of that.’
Surov inclined his head. ‘Of course not,’ he accepted. ‘But then, you do not trust anybody. That’s why you are good at your job.’
If Ivan took Surov’s comment as a compliment, there was no indication of it on his stony face. ‘I have a friend,’ he said. ‘He got himself a new woman. She left her husband for him. And now she is cheating on my friend. I asked him if he was surprised. He said, “Not really.”’
Ivan had earned the right to speak his mind, in Surov’s view. He had a natural aptitude for intelligence work and was running networks all over the world that were of paramount importance to the FSB. One day, Surov knew, if politics didn’t get in the way, Ivan would be running the service.
‘That’s a charming parable, Ivan,’ he said with a half-smile. ‘I suppose it has some sort of relevance to our discussion.’
Finally Ivan took a seat. ‘Jacob Redman betrayed his country. That makes him untrustworthy by definition.’
Surov pressed his fingertips together. ‘That is one way of looking at things,’ he conceded. ‘But there are others. Jacob Redman is, I think, more complicated than you imagine.’ He stood up and started to pace the room. ‘Your friend’s lover,’ he asked. ‘The one who is cheating on him. I wonder what her former husband thinks of her?’
No reply from Ivan.