Page 17 of End Game
‘We need someone who knows how the British think and act when something goes wrong,’ said the Ambassador. ‘Someone who can go unnoticed in a crowd and, to quote you British, will not stick out like a sore finger.’
Miles smiled at the Ambassador’s mistake, which only emphasized his point.
‘Some of theincidentswe have planned,’ continued the Ambassador, ‘must appear to be the result of the home team’s incompetence, while others will look like failures by those in charge of security. But what it mustnotlook like, at least to the public, is a well-planned campaign of espionage. If the British were able to lay the blame at our door, we would have achieved the exact opposite of what we are hoping to achieve.’
‘And then both of you,’ said Miles, glancing between Petrov and Mikailov, ‘would be returning to your home country,’ he paused, ‘and not to a hero’s welcome.’
Miles paused to see how they would react, but no response was forthcoming, so he asked the all-important question. ‘Why me?’
‘It didn’t take a lot of research to discover that the man in charge of Olympic security, Commander Warwick, is an old adversary of yours,’ said Petrov. ‘We are also aware that he has been a thorn in your flesh for some considerabletime, and so we were rather hoping we might be able to work together for a common cause. Catherine the Great once said that two men marching in the same direction are a team, three an army.’
‘That would depend on what Catherine the Great expects me to do,’ said Faulkner, ‘and, more importantly, what she has to offer in return.’
Petrov looked up at the Van Gogh painting before turning to face Faulkner. Miles got the message. ‘Commander Warwick has clearly surrounded himself with capable officers who are able to think two steps ahead,’ said Petrov. ‘We require someone who can not only tell us what those two steps are, but can anticipate the third.’
‘Warwick is well capable of thinking four steps ahead,’ said Miles, ‘and you’d be wise not to underestimate him.’
The woman in the corner of the room nodded, her cold piercing eyes moved onto Petrov.
‘Which is exactly why we need you to be a fully committed member of our team,’ the Ambassador said, matter-of-factly.
‘We also thought,’ added Petrov, ‘that you might consider revenge on Warwick and his team an added bonus.’
Miles stared up at the painting for some time, before he eventually asked, ‘If I were to agree to be your agent’ – he avoided the word traitor – ‘I’ll need proof that the Van Gogh will not be shipped back to St Petersburg once the Games are over.’
The two Russians exchanged glances, before the Ambassador offered, ‘I’m open to any suggestions.’
Faulkner nodded. ‘As you are incapable of paying me my usual ten per cent in advance,’ he said, ‘I will expect you to make the Van Gogh part ofThe Hermitage Comes to the Fitzmoleanexhibition when it opens at the museum nextmonth. I will also require a letter to be sent to my lawyer, Mr Booth Watson, who I feel sure you’re well aware of, making it clear that on the day the exhibition closes, he will take possession of the work on my behalf.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. Whoever she was and however she fitted in, it was clear to Faulkner that she did not consider he ought to be demanding terms, just falling in line. She was about to find out he didn’t just fall in line – for anyone.
‘I feel sure that will be acceptable,’ said the Ambassador, his words accompanied by a warm smile.
‘I will still need to consider the matter very carefully,’ said Miles after another long pause. ‘And should you even think of double-crossing me, let me remind you that Mr Booth Watson’s chambers are less than a stone’s throw from Fleet Street, where they wouldn’t have to pay for an exclusive that would end up on the front page of every newspaper, along with photographs of you and your colleagues, thus guaranteeing your involvement would be recorded for the whole world to read about. Not something, I imagine, that would advance either of your glittering careers.’
‘You’re quite right, Mr Faulkner,’ came back Petrov. ‘But that’s a two-way street. And should you decide to repeat this conversation to anyone outside of this room, I will happily represent the Russian government at your funeral.’
Miles didn’t doubt it.
The Russian Ambassador showed no reaction to his colleague’s statement. He just touched a buzzer under his chair and the officer reappeared and accompanied his guest to the front door. However, he did notice that Faulkner looked back, not at him, but at the Van Gogh.
•••
After Faulkner had left the residence, he didn’t go home but took a taxi to Middle Temple. During the journey, he changed his mind several times. When the cab eventually pulled up outside a set of chambers in Middle Temple Lane, a secretary ushered him quickly through to Mr Booth Watson’s office without being shown into the waiting room. In fact, Miles had no idea where the waiting room was.
‘As you rarely come to my office without an appointment,’ opined Booth Watson, pushing some papers to one side, ‘I can only assume the matter is urgent.’
‘Very,’ responded Miles, before repeating at great length the conversation that had just taken place at the Russian Embassy.
‘So, you didn’t take my advice after all,’ remonstrated Booth Watson, like a headmaster chastising a wayward child. ‘Therefore, I’ll repeat my strong recommendation a second time. You must walk away, Miles. In fact, even take advantage of the situation.’
‘How do you propose I do that?’ asked Miles.
‘You can brief Commander Warwick on what the Russians are up to, in exchange for the police dropping any charges against you for the unauthorized sale of Olympic tickets.’
Miles accepted that was unquestionably the sensible course of action to take, until he recalled Petrov’s threats and one word in particular: funeral.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ said Miles without explanation. ‘However, I will take your advice and walk away.’
