Bomb Grade (49 page)

They questioned the anxious-to-confess Dedov first and the subsequent cross-examination of the other three provided little more than elaboration of what the diminutive fat man told them. They
were
the Dolgoprudnaya, the leading Moscow Family. Stanislav Georgevich Silin was the boss of bosses of six subsidiary clans which he ruled American Mafia style, through a controlling Commission with himself as chairman. The organization was a pyramid structure run military fashion, even to military designations and titles. They never saw or dealt with Silin direct, always through corps commanders or clan bosses. Mitrov had been their corps commander for the Pizhma robbery. They'd not been involved in any planning: they'd taken their instructions from Mitrov, who had told them where the nuclear train was to be stopped and that the guards and the escorting soldiers all had to be killed, to leave no witnesses. Mitrov hadn't told them why some containers had to be broken open. After the robbery they'd driven further south, to Uren, where the majority of the twenty-two canisters had been transferred: only six were left in the original trucks. None of them knew where those trucks or the six canisters had been taken. They didn't know, either, where the other ten canisters had gone. They'd been loaded into three Mercedes and one BMW and they'd all travelled in convoy for the remainder of that day. They'd split northeast of Moscow, at Kalinin. Of course they'd heard of the Agayans and Shelapin Families, even of the territory dispute at Bykovo, but knew nothing about either being involved in a nuclear robbery. They were small time: punks. They certainly hadn't been at Pizhma: that had been entirely Dolgoprudnaya. None of them knew a Yatisyna organization. They'd stayed at the
Zajazd Karczma
longer than they'd intended because Mitrov had difficulty making contact from a public kiosk. And then been further delayed by the Volkswagen breakdown in getting to Cottbus, where they'd been told to go, and their buyers hadn't been waiting, as arranged. Okulov had caused the witnessed pavement argument by accusing Mitrov of screwing up and stranding them with a load of nuclear stuff they couldn't get rid of. It was Raina who had enquired about Berlin trains, intending to go the following day to make contact with the Dolgoprudnaya group permanently established there. Their middle-of-the-night arrest had come before Mitrov had given him the Dolgoprudnaya's Berlin address but Raina thought it was somewhere in the Marzahn district, in the old communist-controlled east of the city.

Charlie and Schumann began early on the fifth day with Fedor Alekseevich Mitrov but it was still well into the afternoon before they began a proper interrogation because the morning was occupied playing back the most incriminating parts of the other Russians' testimonies. Because Charlie had explained what he wanted – and because Schumann had already obtained so much to German satisfaction from the earlier interrogations – Charlie led the questioning. Mitrov started well, fervently denying any position of authority and even more fervently giving any murder orders. But the rejection was eggshell thin and Charlie moved quickly to shatter it.

‘
Akrashena
,' he declared, simply.

Schumann looked incomprehensibly at Charlie and the Russian appeared confused too, although Charlie knew it wasn't from lack of understanding.

‘
Akrashena
' repeated Charlie. ‘Explain that to me.'

The tall Russian sniggered in what was supposed to be ridicule. ‘Wet paint.'

‘I know what it means,' said Charlie. ‘Like I know it was the code name for the militarily planned prevention of a nuclear robbery at Kirs.'

‘I don't know anything about that,' said Mitrov.

‘You do!' insisted Charlie, starting the satellite tape at its prepared section. ‘That's your voice. We've had it scientifically and provably matched. That's you speaking at the scene of a
successful
robbery about one that was being militarily stopped elsewhere by an operation named
Akrashena
. So you tell us how you knew that. And how the Shelapin Family – Shelapin himself – came to be in possession of nuclear material from a robbery he wasn't connected with. And what's happened to the ten containers still missing. And who your customers were, for the six canisters you smuggled into Germany. And when you've told us all that you can tell us a lot more. Like how well-established the Dolgoprudnaya are here in Berlin and exactly where they are in the Marzahn district.'

Blatant cunning registered on the Russian's face. ‘Tell me why I should.'

‘Germany doesn't have capital punishment. Russia does,' said Charlie, simply. ‘Murder, which you're guilty of by having given the orders, is a capital crime. So is nuclear theft. The crimes you committed in Russia take precedence over that of smuggling nuclear components into Germany. So you could be transferred back to Moscow to face trial on the greater charges. In Russia, you die. In Germany, you get a custodial sentence. Which, on past history, won't be very long.'

‘Germany wants the glory of a trial! They wouldn't miss it by sending me back!'

‘You sure about that?'

Mitrov wasn't and it showed: the nerve was tugging at his mouth. ‘What guarantees would there be?'

‘Cooperate and the trial, and the sentencing, will be here in Germany,' promised the German.

‘Let's see how we go,' accepted Mitrov, doubtfully.

‘Tell me about the Shelapin involvement,' Charlie demanded.

‘They're a Chechen group,' dismissed Mitrov.

Charlie recognized the first crack in the dam. ‘We know that. Were they part of the Pizhma distribution?' It wasn't a naive question.

‘Of course they weren't! I told you, they're Chechen!'

‘So how did some of the Pizhma containers end up with Vasili Shelapin? And more with another member of the Family.'

‘I don't know.'

‘But you knew six containers had to be left in the original trucks, after you unloaded?' pressed Schumann.

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Yes you do,' challenged Charlie.

‘I was just told they had to be left.'

‘By whom?'

‘At a planning meeting.'

‘By whom?' repeated Charlie, refusing the avoidance.

‘Silin.' The man mumbled the name, as if he hoped they wouldn't hear it.

‘To be taken into Moscow?'

‘Yes,' said the Russian, unthinking.

‘So you knew the trucks were going on into Moscow!'

Mitrov hesitated, realizing the mistake. ‘Yes.'

‘Why? Why weren't they abandoned at Uren?'

‘Silin said they were needed in Moscow.'

‘Why?'

‘He didn't tell me. Just that he wanted them there.'

‘You're lying,' accused Schumann.

‘Confusion,' blurted Mitrov.

‘Decoy, you mean?'

‘I suppose.'

‘Was it your decision to break open the containers: risk a township?' demanded Schumann.

‘No!'

‘Silin again?' probed Charlie.

‘Yes.'

‘Why?'

‘Confusion,' the man repeated. ‘Delay.'

‘
Akrashena
?' said Charlie.

‘Silin.'

‘So he knew about the Kirs attempt?'

‘Yes.'

‘When did the planning for Pizhma start?'

‘I don't remember.'

‘When?'

‘Towards the end of the month.'

It wasn't the answer Charlie expected. ‘Date?'

‘I can't remember.'

‘The day?'

‘I'm not sure. Tuesday I think.'

‘The thirtieth?'

‘Earlier.'

‘The twenty-third?'

‘That sounds better.'

That was before the first Interior Ministry meeting to plan against the Kirs robbery, calculated Charlie. ‘That was when Silin told you
akrashena
was the task force code name?'

Mitrov shook his head. ‘Later. More than a week later.'

That fitted better. ‘Did Silin tell you, personally? Or was it part of a discussion involving several people.'

‘Several people.'

‘All Family?'

The wary pause was too obvious. ‘Yes.'

‘That's a lie.'

‘It was all Family when I was involved.'

‘Explain that,' demanded Schumann.

‘There'd been another meeting, before. Just Silin.'

‘Who with?'

‘The people he knows.'

There was a sharp spurt of pain in Charlie's feet at the first-time thought that Kirs had been even more of a decoy that he'd imagined, up until now. ‘Who are these people?'

Mitrov grimaced. ‘Who do you think?'

‘I don't want to think. I want you to tell me.'

‘Militia.'

‘Who?'

‘I don't know. No one knows. Only Silin. That's how it works. Just him and them.'

‘
Them
!' seized Charlie. ‘One person? Or several?'

‘Several. I don't know how many. All Militia are crooked.'

‘The Dolgoprudnaya are established here, in Berlin?'

There was another wary hesitation. ‘Yes.'

Although he knew the answer, Charlie said, ‘Where else, in Russia?'

‘St Petersburg.'

‘So where are these special Militia people? In Moscow? Or outside?'

‘Moscow, definitely.'

‘Why definitely?'

‘The meetings are so easy. Any uncertainties can be resolved at once, which they couldn't be if the dealings were with people outside Moscow.'

‘What rank?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Names?' came in Schumann.

There was a snort of derision from the Russian. ‘There are never names.'

‘You're a corps commander?'

Mitrov paused. ‘Yes.'

‘Who was the other corps commander, at Pizhrna?'

‘Malin.'

‘Full name,' demanded Schumann.

‘PetrGavrilovich.'

‘He's got ten men with him?' established Charlie, calculating from the satellite photographs.

‘I suppose so.'

‘And ten canisters?'

‘Yes.'

‘Where are they? What route are they taking?'

The man shook his head. ‘You're too late.'

‘Why are we too late?' asked the German.

‘They went full south, through the Ukraine.'

‘
Full
south?' questioned Charlie, curious at the phrase.

‘The Black Sea,' said Mitrov.

‘For simple, quick land access to anywhere in the Middle East after a short voyage,' accepted Schumann, more to himself than to the other two. ‘When?'

‘Five days ago. Out of Odessa.'

There was no way of knowing whether each canister was full, calculated Charlie, sickened. If they were, as much as a hundred kilos had been lost: twenty bombs, eighty thousand dead. ‘Who were your buyers to be?'

‘I don't know. I wasn't part of that. It was arranged here, in Berlin. By our people here.'

‘In Marzahn?'

‘KulmseeStrasse. Number 15,' smiled Mitrov. ‘You'll be wasting your time. They'll have cleared out days ago. They were due at Cottbus the day we were picked up: you missed them by being four or five hours too early!'

‘Who do you think the buyers were?' pressed Schumann.

Mitrov shrugged. ‘Middle East. Who else?'

‘How did the Pizhma planning come about?' demanded Charlie.

‘I don't understand.'

‘What happened first? Did Silin suddenly announce you were going to rob a nuclear train? Or did he say there was going to be a robbery at a nuclear plant that he'd decided to take advantage of?'

Mitrov thought for several moments. ‘He said we were going to rob a train. Then he talked of the Kirs robbery.'

‘He specifically mentioned Kirs!' pounced Charlie.

‘Yes.'

‘And talked about both robberies at the same meeting?'

Mitrov shook his head. ‘Different times. Pizhma, at first. Then Kirs later.'

All this time! thought Charlie, anguished. All this time they'd not just been going around in circles but revolving in the opposite direction from that in which they should have been going even to half-understand what was happening. How much did he have to change his privately formulated opinion of how it had all been organized? Not much. He was sure now he was looking in the right direction.

Satisfied with what he'd learned, Charlie let Schumann conclude that day's session and shared the ritual celebration drink with the German before relaying the day's events to Rupert Dean through the quasi-embassy facilities being set up in preparation for the full diplomatic transfer from Bonn. The Director-General asked hopefully if there could be any doubt about the ten containers getting to some unknown destination and Charlie said he didn't think so and agreed with Dean they had the sort of disaster they'd feared. London was providing Moscow with a daily transcript to support their sting operation approach as well as advising Washington, but Charlie kept in daily personal touch with Kestler.

Before he could start that night the younger American said, ‘The big gangs are at war here! Name who just got whacked!'

‘Stanislav Georgevich Silin, the head of the Dolgoprudnaya Family,' said Charlie.

It was a long time before Kestler spoke. ‘How the fuck did you guess?'

‘I'm psychic,' said Charlie. After he replaced the receiver he said to himself, ‘I hope you're not in over your head this time, Charlie my son.'

Natalia made Aleksai a drink and didn't invite him to share in Sasha's bath-time, which he usually did automatically, instead leaving him alone while she settled the child for the night. The assessment of the German investigation had taken a full day and been subdued throughout. There had been no open criticism of anyone because none was justified, but Natalia suspected Aleksai felt crushed by the German success. And not just German success: Charlie's success. Which wasn't confined to Berlin. The final decision of the day, greatly influenced by Germany, had been to accept, although with stringent Moscow-governing restrictions, the British proposal to attempt an entrapment operation in the hope of blocking such a robbery in the future.