The Relic (26 page)

‘I'll do that. You take the bags,' Lucy volunteered quickly.

‘Upstairs and the fourth door on the left. Number seven. It's a nice room; you'll be comfortable. How many nights? It's not booked.'

Volkov paused with the suitcases, one foot on the stairs.

‘Two nights, Madame. We're not in any hurry.'

The room was low, dark-beamed, with leaded windows that looked out over the deep flowing river. Volkov stretched out on the bed. The
matrimoniale
was not very wide.

‘French people must be very small or they like lying very close together,' he remarked.

‘Two nights?' Lucy shook her head. ‘We can't.'

‘Why not?' He locked his hands behind his head. ‘Nobody knows we're here. Now go and have your bath. Then we'll make love before dinner!'

Afterwards, lying side by side in the little room, listening to the cry of seagulls swooping outside, he said to her, ‘I feel so free. I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand, Lucy, my sweetheart, because you've never lived in a country where nobody is really free. I was in prison in Geneva, too; I'd made my own Gulag and sentenced myself to life. Till you came along. Now I'm so happy that I could die here tonight and not care, just because I've discovered what it feels like to be with you and to be a free man for the first time. So let me be a bit reckless? Don't scold me.'

‘Only as long as you don't talk about dying. I wouldn't scold you about anything, my love. I want you to be happy, as happy as you can possibly be.'

She held his face in both hands and bent down to kiss him. His arms locked around her.

He murmured, ‘I love your skin. Only witches have skin like yours.'

‘We'll be late for dinner,' Lucy whispered in his ear.

‘Yes,' he whispered back. ‘We will.'

Madame gave them a table which looked out over the river. She had taken a liking to them. They were obviously in love. She smiled on them benignly as they held hands and gazed at each other. Outside, the ferry passed across their window, its lights dancing on the dark surface of the river.

The food was delicious in the simple way of good French provincial cooking. Lucy refused wine.

‘Just mineral water,' she said to the young waiter.

‘Not because of me?' Volkov asked her.

‘No, darling,' she said gently. ‘I'd fall asleep at the table if I drank anything. I can't believe it's real. We got away just in time. You may think it's nonsense, but I believe God was on our side.'

‘Somebody was,' he admitted. ‘We're not going to talk about it tonight. We're going to pretend that we're on holiday and we can stay here as long as we like. Till your money runs out,' he teased her. ‘Beware of a Russian when he's happy. He's capable of anything.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘But tomorrow we've got to come down to earth.'

They fell asleep in each other's arms and woke late the next morning to a glorious day. As they walked along the riverbank after their breakfast, Lucy turned to him and said, ‘I've been thinking, darling, and I know how we're going to do it.'

‘Do what?' he asked.

‘Get you into Jersey without anyone even knowing you're there.'

It was there, staring at him in the middle of Gusev's painstaking report. Viktor Rakovsky sprang up from his desk. He jammed a finger on the intercom and snapped at his secretary.

‘Get Colonel Gusev up here. Immediately!'

The name had struck him like a punch to the heart. Boris Malik. His mother's murderer. Malik had befriended Yuri Warienski in the camp. Gusev had even repeated the dreadful retort to the accusation of homosexuality. The words mumbled by Adolph Brückner to Irina's tape machine echoed in his head. Her question, in that cool voice, ‘
How many times was she raped?
'

‘
Boris did it twice … He turned her over.
' Malik had stolen the Holy Relic. Malik had given it to the boy at Spittal when he knew he was being repatriated. And it was Yuri Warienski who had offered it for sale to the jeweller in Paris. Yuri Warienski who'd sent his daughter to find Volkov because she had the Relic. And with the Relic, Volkov could set the whole of the Ukraine alight in bloody revolt against the Soviet government.

When his secretary buzzed through to say Colonel Gusev was in the outer office, Viktor composed himself. He put his private feelings aside. He came towards Gusev. He gripped him hard by the shoulders.

‘You've done it, Leon! Your instinct was right—there
was
another factor in the Volkov scenario. And I've just found it. I've been investigating something else and the two themes have come together. I know why Volkov was singled out. Sit down. Have you ever head of St Vladimir's Cross?'

They were shut up together for a long time; no one was permitted to disturb them. At the end of the session, Viktor said, ‘Give the search for Volkov and the Warren woman top priority. Put “stringers” on the French ports and airports. Circulate descriptions of Volkov and photofit of the woman.'

Gusev said, ‘We have the hire car number—those Swiss idiots managed to get that before they lost them! And, comrade, one other thing.' He hesitated.

‘What?' Victor encouraged him.

‘It can't be coincidence that the woman took such a risk to get his passport. His wife must have let something slip and that set them running. I'd like to talk to her again. Somebody must be held accountable for his escape. I know you're on friendly terms with her.'

‘She may even have warned him,' Viktor said slowly. ‘We'll both go and see her at home. Make it a friendly visit. I'll arrange that now. If she did warn him in some way, she'll be regretting it enough to admit it by now. She didn't know he had a mistress.'

He had asked Gusev to leave them alone. Irina was on her feet, walking up and down, her hands twisting in front of her. She had been crying at one stage.

‘I didn't tell him,' she said. ‘I didn't tell him anything! Why won't you believe me, Viktor?'

‘It's not what I believe that matters,' he said. ‘Leon is a good interrogator. He's reasonable and he's calm. He doesn't believe you. Our superiors won't either. If you can't convince them …' He let the sentence die away.

She swung round to face him. ‘How could you think I'd be such a fool? Why would I want to warn him?'

‘Because you loved him,' he suggested. ‘And you weren't sure what we had in mind for him when he came home. After all, you loved him enough to go in to exile and to work for us for all that time. You did very good work, but if we don't get the cross back, it won't help you.'

‘Love him!' She almost spat the words out. ‘I gave up everything for him. Do you know what my life was like for those five years? He hated me. He taunted and abused me for what I was doing. He never touched me in all that time. Not once. He hated me so much I made him impotent! You think I wanted him to run away? I wanted him back in Russia with me! I still hoped we might get back together. I told myself that if he was at home, among his own people, he'd change, he'd understand and we could try again.'

She turned her back to him, fighting down the surge of bitter grief.

‘And all the time he was with another woman. Making love to her. Lying to me about where he was while he was with
her
. Planning to leave me and go off with her.' She turned back and faced him. ‘I had something prepared to give him. It simulates a mild fit. I'd have been able to sedate him and fly him home.'

After a measured silence, Viktor said, ‘I believe you, Irina. But whatever happens you will be censured. I can't guarantee what form it'll take. You may be suspended from practice. You'll certainly lose your old job at the Lenin Institute.'

She said in a harsh voice, ‘You mean I'll be sent to some provincial hospital to work? Dealing with common lunatics in some God-forsaken hole?'

‘That might be the outcome. I'll do my best for you, but I can't promise anything. It all depends upon finding him and getting our hands on the Relic.'

‘My life is ruined,' she said slowly. ‘Now my career is finished. Viktor, what are you going to do when you find them?'

‘Kill them both. Bring the cross back to Russia,' he said.

‘Let me do it.'

He stared at her. ‘You're crazy. That's impossible.'

‘I've been thinking about it,' she said slowly. ‘Ever since I got home, I've been thinking of finding Dimitri and that woman. You want them dead and you want the cross. Let me suggest something to you. Why not let your Colonel Gusev hear it. A witness is always a good thing.'

They sat facing her. She was very calm now, her eyes hard and bright. Gusev thought she was the most dangerous sight he'd seen in a very long association with trained killers. But she wasn't trained, that was the stumbling block. She was a doctor with a little basic training in handling unpredictable patients, but she had no other skills. Except her knowledge of drugs. He leaned a little forward, paying more attention as she talked.

‘It's got to be an accident,' Irina said. ‘A murder would be attributed to the KGB. That's not our image any more. Isn't that so? That's why a lot of people have got away with things we'd have crushed them flat for a few years ago?'

‘Yes,' Viktor admitted.

‘So why not let someone handle it who isn't a professional?'

‘You weren't very successful in dealing with the Warren woman,' Gusev pointed out. ‘How would you cope with two of them?'

‘I wouldn't,' Irina said. She reached for the cigarettes on the table, lit one and inhaled deeply. ‘I couldn't even smoke for a time. It was misery. I wouldn't do anything myself. I'd take someone with me for that. I told you, I've been thinking about it. I have a man who would do exactly what was needed. Exactly what I told him to do … and enjoy it.'

‘Tell us,' Viktor said. ‘Who is this man?'

‘The only survivor of “Spartacus”.' She glanced at Viktor then to the impassive colonel who'd done nothing but put obstacles in her way. ‘Ten years ago,' she said. ‘We ran a series of experiments at the institute. We selected certain criminal types with a history of psychopathic violence and a talent for survival in the worst of the labour camps, and exposed them to re-education and programming. My professor thought of the project and called it Spartacus. The Romans used to choose gladiators from the most rebellious of their slaves, like Spartacus. My professor was a great authority on ancient Rome. He wanted to see if we could harness their antisocial tendencies to the service of the State. I believe Andropov supported the idea.'

‘And it worked?' Gusev enquired. ‘I never heard of it.'

‘Only in some cases,' Irina admitted. ‘Most of them went insane and had to be destroyed. About twenty responded satisfactorily. Some were sent back to the camps where they disposed of anyone encouraging resistance. Others were given special tasks. A few were allowed a limited freedom afterwards. One of them is still available.'

‘And you could trust yourself with him?' Viktor asked. He had never heard of the Spartacus programme. But he'd never been involved with the most sinister branch of the security services.

‘I helped train him,' Irina explained. ‘He was the most remarkable example. He did very good work till the scheme was abandoned. He would do anything I told him.'

‘Sounds like science fiction to me,' Gusev said. ‘I couldn't support it.'

Viktor ignored him. ‘Why do you want to do this Irina? Personal reasons?'

‘No,' she said coldly. ‘Professional. If I solve the problem satisfactorily, my career won't suffer. I'll resume my post at the institute. That would be the deal.'

‘If you succeed,' Viktor said. ‘I'll recommend you for a professorship.'

On the way back to Dzerjhinsky Square, Gusev said, ‘You're going to authorize it?'

‘Yes,' Rakovsky answered. ‘I am. I believe she'll do it. She and her tame monster. She didn't warn Volkov; I'm sure of that. I'm going to give her the chance. I want you to help her any way she wants.'

Gusev felt it his duty to make one more objection. He admired Rakovsky but he was anxious on his own behalf. He was sorry he'd been dragged in to what seemed a high-risk, low-probability solution to something requiring a team of skilled professionals.

He said, ‘Comrade, have you thought of the risk you are taking? The personal risk if this goes wrong? You could be charged with treason if Volkov escapes us. I have to point this out.' He coughed awkwardly. ‘And I'm an accessory,' he added.

Viktor shook his head. ‘You don't think I'd let Irina go without back-up? We'll have our experts in place the moment we know where Volkov and Warren are hiding. Ready to deal with them if Irina fails. And to deal with her if she succeeds.'

Gusev drew a sharp breath. Viktor went on, gazing calmly out of the window as they drove fast down the reserved central lane into Red Square.

‘A jealous wife who kills her unfaithful husband and his mistress. And then kills herself. She'll be the perfect alibi for us. Our team will dispose of her Frankenstein monster, whoever he is, and bring back the cross. A crime of passion with a Soviet dissident and his lover as the victims. The Western media will love it.'

‘It is a masterpiece of forward planning.' Leon Gusev apologized. ‘I was being very stupid. I thought she was a friend of yours …'

‘I have known Irina for a long time, but I have no friends, Leon, when it comes to the safety of my country. Remember that.'

The car drew up outside the entrance to the Lubianka. They went up in the lift together.

‘I'll come to your office,' Viktor said. ‘I want to ask your computer some questions.'

‘Well, Leon, there we have it. All the pieces fit the puzzle. As we suspected, there's the heart of the conspiracy. That's why the anti-Soviets are gathering from all over the world. Volkov appears and produces the Holy Relic! Think of it! The Press conferences, the propaganda machine shifting into gear in the Ukraine itself. And the hero, Volkov, returns to Russia with the whole Western media at his heels and St Vladimir's Cross in his hand! Fifty million Ukrainians would take to the streets!'