longer. âYou still shouldnât have done it.â
Popov shrugged the protest aside. Able, from the way he was standing, to conceal the heavy seriousness between them from other parents in the room he said, simply, âHello.â
âHello,â said Natalia, just as serious. Should she, could she, take another chance?
Stanislav Silin knew he had them rattled, Sobelov most of all. It was a good feeling, like it had been a good feeling watching the bombast leak from the man when Sobelov realized how easily the size of the robbery would re-establish things in their proper order.
Silin had guessed, of course, about the money involved but he didnât think it was an exaggeration to value 250 kilos of weapons-graded material, which was what heâd been promised, at $75,000,000 at least. Theyâd been dumbstruck by that, as heâd known they would be because he had been when the size had been put to him. Sobelov had tried to recover, questioning both the amount and the profit, but the others hadnât doubted him. They hadnât just believed him, theyâd backed him, not even Bobin or Frolov supporting the demand that there should be a change in the system to involve all of them in the negotiations instead of leaving it to him alone, which was his agreed right as the boss of bosses. Silin had been worried at that insistence, unsure how much ground heâd lost: the fact that everyone apart from Sobelov was prepared to leave the brokering to him, like it had always been in the past, had to be the best indicator he could have wished that he could defeat Sobelovâs challenge.
But he still couldnât afford to relax.
Heâd always protected his sources but this time the secret had to be absolute, not just for their benefit but to prevent Sobelov trying to take over, which the man might attempt in his desperation. Just as secretly as he had to set things up in Berlin and for the same reasons.
And when heâd put everything in motion he could start planning how Sobelov was going to die. He was going to enjoy that.
Silin looked to the side of the room at Markovâs re-entry, for the nod of assurance that Marinaâs guards had been properly briefed.
Everything was working out perfectly.
chapter 3
Q uestions crowded in upon him but Charlie Muffin was too experienced to interrupt. It wasnât just what Rupert Dean was saying. Or the awareness that he had been professionally reprieved. There was the overwhelming personal implication. But which couldnât be allowed to become overwhelming. Anything personal had to be blocked off, later more calmly to be assessed. For the moment the posting was the only thing he could afford to let into his mind.
So Natalia had to be forgotten.
Deanâs presentation, like his demeanour, was that of a lecturer concisely establishing with facts and assessments and analyses a problem that phrases and words like âpotentially catastrophicâ and âcataclysmicâ and ânightmareâ did not exaggerate. He also referred to âpolitical sensitivityâ and âextreme cautionâ and âessential cooperationâ and Charlie knew they werenât exaggerations either. Dean concluded, âSo thatâs your brief, to liaise with the Russians and with the already appointed Americans to do everything you can to stem the flow of nuclear material to the West.â
Charlie wondered if the telephone boxes in Moscow would be large enough for him to change into his Superman outfit. âThere are officers from this department already attached to the British embassy in Moscow. Others from SIS, too.â
âEngaged in their normal functions, which remain quite separate from what you are being appointed to achieve,â said Dean. âOur role was extended years ago to combat the terrorism in Northern Ireland. Now itâs being widened even further. And whatâs coming out of Russia and its former