Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [132]
There was a Japanese-style footpath made of slate-colored stepping stones, each slightly different yet related to one another, that led down to the pond and the moon bridge. As they neared the water Paull could see flashes of black, white, silver, and orangey-gold beneath the surface as the ornamental carp swam into the sunlight and out. Much to his surprise Benson took out a handful of dry food and sprinkled it on the surface. The greedy carp rose, their mouths open and gasping to suck in the food.
Assuming the professorial demeanor he so adored Thomson said, “Believe it or not this accord is going to consolidate President Yukin’s power both inside and outside Russia.”
At once Paull thought back to his conversation with Edward Carson in the limo on the day they had buried Lloyd Berns. Carson had voiced consternation that Brandt was trying to push through the accord despite the president’s unease. Paull assumed an expression of bland attention.
Thomson’s hands were clasped behind his back, his head tilted slightly upward as if he were sniffing the air for eavesdroppers, or clues to their ultimate fate. “As you no doubt know, since Yukin has been in power the government’s ownership of companies comprising the Russian stock market has ballooned from twenty-five percent to forty percent.”
“If that isn’t totalitarianism,” Benson said, staring down at the swarming carp, “I don’t know what is.”
“He has also made a mockery of the state governors’ races,” Thomson continued as if Benson hadn’t spoken. “No one can get on a slate unless expressly endorsed by Yukin.”
“Or his lord high executioner, Oriel Jovovich Batchuk,” Benson said without apparent irony.
Thomson shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing. Batchuk is deputy prime minister, he’s thrown in his lot with Yukin, he rises and falls on the strength of Yukin’s power. But in a sense Miles is correct: In his own right Batchuk is a formidable opponent.”
“A fucking latter-day Stalin,” Benson said. “There’s so much blood on his hands they say he lives in an abattoir.”
“Very funny,” Paull said.
“He’s a Russian,” Benson said levelly, “so who the hell knows, it might be true.”
“He’s a clever bastard, this Batchuk.” Thomson’s eyes met Paull’s. “More clever, even, than Iosif Vissarionovich.” He meant Stalin.
“Where is this all leading?” Paull asked.
“An excellent question.” Thomson began to move, and the other two men followed him as he mounted the moon bridge. At the apex of the arc he stopped and, placing his forearms on the railing, stared down into the depths of the pond. “General Brandt has made some sort of private deal with President Yukin, the details of which we have no idea, but I can tell you unequivocally that the moment we discovered the fact we severed all ties with him. Nevertheless, Brandt is out there operating on his own, taking the law into his own hands, and we have no way of stopping him.”
“BATCHUK IS in charge of Trinadtsat,” Kharkishvili said to Jack, “which is a secret cadre—”
“I know what Trinadtsat is,” Jack said.
“You surprise me at every turn, Mr. McClure, you really do.” Kharkishvili’s eyebrows arched. “But possibly you don’t know this: Trinadtsat was created by Batchuk for one reason—a secret discovery of an enormous deposit of uranium—possibly one of the largest in the world—in northeastern Ukraine, very near the Russian border. Add to this the fact that the Kremlin has determined Russia’s owninground supply of uranium is far smaller than had been thought, and you have a major crisis in the making.
“What is crucial to understanding why the current situation has become a crisis is that Russia is firmly committed to nuclear power,” Kharkishvili continued. “We—that is, the members of AURA—were and are just as firmly committed to keeping the nuclear power industry in private hands in order to mitigate the Kremlin’s expansionist plans. We fought Yukin as long as we could, but he consolidated his power too quickly and