The Hidden Man - Charles Cumming [120]
‘I see, I see.’ Taploe smiled, sickening Quinn with the speed of his compliance. A queasy mood of settled business had suddenly pervaded the room.
‘And Kostov?’ he said. Quinn had noticed they had left the Russian out.
McCreery cleared his throat.
‘Well, there at last there’s some good news. While we’ve been sitting here our colleagues should have finalized plans for Kostov’s extradition.’
Quinn stirred.
‘How does that work?’
‘Very simply.’ McCreery clasped his hands together and produced a punchy smile. ‘Kostov has been tracked to one of Kukushkin’s properties. He’s been under surveillance for several days.’
Taploe was confused.
‘He was working for Viktor Kukushkin?’
‘Not exactly. Dimitri does some very occasional work for the organization, but only as a favour to keep him in rubles. Kukushkin and Kostov are old friends, you see, from school and university. Grew up in the same Moscow suburb. Twenty years ago, Kukushkin was a big player in the Party machine so, like a lot of ex-KGB, Kostov was able to maintain some very strong links with organized crime. He was farmed out to Byelorussia after the Mischa fiasco, but Kukushkin kept an eye on him. And when he started to benefit from Gorbachev’s reforms, he brought him back into the fold, found him somewhere to live, that sort of thing.’
Taploe stretched. ‘What sort of work does Kostov do for him?’
He might have been enquiring after the time.
‘As I said, very little. We don’t really know much beyond the fact that Kukushkin has always looked after him. Some instruction, perhaps. The odd tip-off. A lot of Kostov’s breed worked euphemistically as “consultants” of one kind or another, though it’s unlikely he would have been all that effective. Kukushkin was heavily involved in strong-arming government ministers into transferring state money to privatized brokerage houses in the early days of Yeltsin. We’re fairly sure Kostov helped out on that. He was always best when operating as a bit of a thug…’
‘… and eventually he came across Keen’s name because of his work for Divisar?’ Taploe said.
‘Almost certainly,’ Dulong replied. ‘Not that Kukushkin knew anything about it.’
Quinn sensed they were concealing something, and challenged them on it.
‘You said Kostov was under surveillance.’
‘That is correct.’
‘Who from? Moscow law enforcement?’
Dulong bought herself some time by wiping her nose on a small white handkerchief concealed in her bag. McCreery looked uncertainly at the floor and knocked his wedding ring against the table. Quinn realized he had found the lie. Their eyes had gone.
‘Come on, out with it. Who’s watching him?’
‘We are.’ McCreery spat the confession as if it had been taken under duress. ‘SIS are watching the apartment block.’
‘He’s not under police arrest?’
‘No.’
And thus the full picture emerged. All loose ends tied. Quinn’s mouth slackened in disbelief as he recognized that McCreery’s little problem had been resolved with a grim sleight of hand.
‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he whispered. ‘Fuckin’ hell. Six have talked to Kukushkin, haven’t they? You’ve struck a fucking deal.’
Dulong balled the handkerchief under the sleeve of her blouse and indicated to McCreery that she would be prepared to answer the question.
‘We have channels in Moscow,’ she said. ‘The quid pro quo involves Kostov’s handover…’
But Quinn did not let her finish.
‘In return for what?’
‘In return for the conditions we have already outlined. Prosecution immunity for Tamarov, d’Erlanger, Macklin and Duchev. Total withdrawal of UK operations. Surely the latter is of some comfort to the Service after all your hard work?’
Taploe stepped between Quinn and Dulong as if he felt a professional obligation to speak on behalf of MI5. Quinn looked up at his pale, exhausted features - a man failed now, surely beyond redemption - and felt that his whole future