The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [101]
39
‘Timothy Lander is a fucking diving instructor.’
‘I knew that.’
‘You knew that?’
Taploe secured his seatbelt and managed to look suitably contrite. He said, ‘We found out shortly after our last meeting. Paul had a call from the Cayman Islands which confirmed it.’
‘From the Cayman Islands? Not from SIS?’
‘Why would SIS be involved?’
Mark was sitting opposite Taploe on the leather backseat of an MI5 cab. He frowned and said, ‘Because you said their Station out there was looking into it.’ For the first time, he had begun to doubt Randall’s integrity. He wished Quinn were in the car, somebody whose word he could count on. With Paul Quinn, he knew where he stood. ‘Or was that just a lie designed to make me feel better? Maybe you knew all along that Lander was a red herring. I mean, how hard is it to trace somebody when you have their fucking phone number on my dad’s records?’
‘I never lied to you about Timothy Lander.’ Taploe’s nose seemed to twitch, as if he had suffered for Citibank, but nothing under Timothy. It was only by chance that his name came up.’
Mark shookhis head and looked out of the window.
‘Now I need to know more about last night,’ Taploe said. ‘The club. Everything you can recall.’
Ian, who was driving, switched lanes abruptly on Marylebone Road and shot the cab up on to the Westway.
‘I told you most of it on the phone.’
‘Well then, let’s start with Tamarov. Why do you thinkhe brought up the subject of your father?’
‘How the fuckshould I know?’ Mark was tired and fractious. He had left the club at three in the morning and been debriefed by Taploe for thirty minutes on the telephone before grabbing just two or three hours of sleep.
‘Well, can you hazard a guess?’
‘To clear his conscience?’ Mark suggested. ‘To take me off the scent?’ Taploe appeared to agree with this assessment and nodded discreetly. ‘Or,’ Mark added, ‘because he was actually telling the truth. Because Duchev and Kukushkin really did have nothing to do with what happened to my father. Because the shooting was just a run-of-the-mill murder that is never going to be solved.’
He wondered whether to tell Randall about Bone’s letter. The more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed just to dismiss the theory about Kostov. What if Jock was lying, as Ben suspected? But then maybe his controller already knew about Mischa. He had recruited him using Kukushkin as a lever, the treachery of Macklin and Roth, yet there was no specific evidence linking any of those figures to the murder. Maybe Five and Six were in it together. Mark stared at the floor of the cab and did not know whom to trust.
‘We will solve it,’ Taploe was saying. ‘It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Time,’ Mark muttered. ‘Time.’
‘Now you said that Tamarov was upset with Macklin for being drunk?’
‘That’s right.’ Mark was still staring at the floor.
‘How drunkwas he, as a matter of fact?’
‘Very.’
‘Can you be more specific?’
Mark lifted his head with bored indifference.
‘You want a urine sample?’
Ian grinned in the rear-view mirror.
‘Well, what about d’Erlanger?’ Taploe asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
‘Not booze. Cocaine.’
‘I see. And at the bar you said Tamarov openly admitted to you that he was Viktor Kukushkin’s lawyer. Is that correct?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Now why did he do that, do you think?’
But Mark had had enough.
‘Fucking hell. How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t have answers to these questions. If you don’t know what’s going on, then pull me out. If you think Kukushkin is already on to me, I’m not exactly keen to stick around.’
‘Nobody is suggesting for a moment that Kukushkin is on to you. Do you have reason to suggest that that might be the case?’
Shaking his head, Mark stared at passing cars.
‘Look, I am trying to piece things together,’ Taploe told him. ‘I am trying to help you, trying to run this operation. All I want to know is what your instincts tell you. I wasn’t there last night. I need