The Samurai Inheritance (17 page)

He looked up as some hidden signal heralded Vatutin’s return, bearing an official-looking document and a gold pen. The Russian was grinning.

‘Welcome aboard, comrade.’

XIX

It seemed to Jamie that Magda Ross had taken his absence with surprising equanimity.

‘I thought you might have been worried,’ he said after Vatutin – first name Alexei now that they were comrades – had dropped him off outside the hotel in a state close to bewilderment. ‘At least a little bit.’

Magda laid down the Japanese grammar she was reading by the window and uncoiled herself from the chair. ‘I was a little bit,’ she admitted as she walked past him to the coffee machine. ‘But I trust you to know what you’re doing. Besides, Daniel popped in to let me know you might be out of circulation for a couple of days.’

‘He did?’

‘He did. I was a little curious as to why, but he couldn’t tell me.’

The statement held a question but Jamie was busy trying to figure out how Daniel could have known without having inside information from the Lubyanka. ‘Dimitri Kaganovich was a dead end.’ He gave her a reassuring smile to cover up the guilt of not telling her just how dead, or his suspicions that he might have been responsible in a sort of second-hand, semi-detached kind of way. ‘But he pointed me towards some other people and they came up with an address for the family of his dear-departed old chum Gennady.’

‘And these people would be …?’ she asked too sweetly.

‘It was all a little bit mysterious.’ Jamie felt the heat in his cheeks as he evaded the question. ‘But that happens sometimes in my line of work. They looked up the files and
voilà
: Gennady Berzarin gave up the diplomatic service and moved out to Siberia …’ Magda blinked at the unexpected geographical twist and forgot the cross-examination she’d planned. ‘He became a leading citizen, and eventually mayor of a place called Krasnoyarsk, which I’m told is a mining town on the Yenisei River.’

‘We’re going to Siberia?’

‘
I’m
going to Siberia.’ The words emerged of their own volition, but his instinct told him he was correct. He was swimming with sharks now and he had no right to ask Magda Ross to accompany him into this potentially lethal part of the ocean. ‘Krasnoyarsk isn’t the kind of place for the unprepared with winter coming on.’

But Magda had other ideas. ‘Do you really think you’re dumping me here?’ Her tone was a mix of incredulity and determination, a sort of low-pitched warning signal mirrored by a narrowing of flashing walnut eyes. ‘You lured me all the way to Moscow with your South Sea puzzle and your promises of First Class all the way, so don’t think you can suddenly leave me behind. I’ve an investment in the Bougainville head too and I want to be there when you find it. Where you go I go, Jamie Saintclair, even if it means travelling solo.’

She stood there with her chest heaving with passion and he struggled to maintain his conviction in the face of such a major distraction. ‘Siberia isn’t Moscow, Magda.’

‘No, but it’s halfway to Tokyo, which is where we were going originally, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten but—’

‘Please, Jamie, don’t do this.’ She was pleading now, and he had the odd sensation that this was a different Magda Ross. ‘You’ve no idea what it was like in the museum with all those dusty old men and simpering office girls. When you walked into the museum and mentioned what you were looking for it was like a storm blowing away the cobwebs of my life. An opportunity to have an adventure after five years of staring at mind-numbing reports on computer screens. I’ve contributed nothing yet, but I know I can help. Just give me a chance.’

Sharks or no sharks, a man could only take so much. Despite his reservations Jamie’s resolve crumbled and Magda saw it written on his face. Her mood transformed as if the sun had just come out from behind a cloud.

‘All right,’ he growled, trying to regain the initiative. ‘But you can forget going solo. From now on we stay close and cover each other’s back. Unless you’d be uncomfortable with that?’

It was the only time he’d seen her blush. ‘I may have exaggerated for effect.’

‘The first thing we need is some proper cold-weather clothing.’

‘Of course.’ She disappeared through the connecting door into her suite and returned a moment later with a pair of enormous bags with the name of a prominent Moscow store printed across the front. From the first, she pulled a heavily padded and obviously expensive jacket – it was too stylish to call an anorak. ‘I wasn’t sure of the colour, but dark blue seemed neutral enough. And I got you a couple of thick woollen sweaters and some winter socks.’

‘Good, we can stop off somewhere and buy some, er … thermals.’

‘Thermals?’ Her eyebrows went up along with her voice. ‘Do we have some kind of expedition planned? Mammoth hunting? A camping trip on the steppe?’

‘All I have to get us close to Arkady Berzarin is an address that could be in the middle of nowhere and what might be called a verbal letter of introduction,’ Jamie explained patiently. ‘If that doesn’t work we might have to try something a little more unorthodox than knocking on his door.’ He shrugged, remembering he could have been back sunning himself with Fiona on Bondi Beach instead of chasing shadows in Russia. ‘In my experience, it’s the things you don’t take that you end up needing. And there are certain extremities I’d prefer not to expose to frostbite.’

‘Well, I can understand
that
,’ she laughed and turned towards her suite. ‘I’ll start packing for the flight.’

‘Er, I’m afraid there won’t be a flight.’ She froze in the doorway and he quickly explained. ‘I tried to book a plane, but apparently there have been severe electrical storms and everything between here and the Far East is effectively grounded. The only option is the train. I’m afraid we’re in for a rather extended trip.’

‘Just how extended is extended?’ Magda frowned.

‘Think of it this way: we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.’

As it turned out they didn’t have much choice. Jamie thought he’d booked a luxury private berth, but at Yaroslavsky station their tickets led them to a cramped second-class compartment filled by four bunks and two other people. The scene resembled an old-fashioned English farce as Jamie stood in the doorway with tickets in hand and their luggage blocking the corridor. Meanwhile, the elderly Russian occupants sat on the left-hand bench staring stolidly at the far wall. Jamie checked the compartment number with the tickets, but there was no doubt it was correct.

Magda stuck her head round the door to take a look. ‘First Class all the way with Jamie Saintclair?’

‘There must be a mistake,’ he grimaced. ‘Look after the luggage and I’ll check with the carriage attendants.’

The two young women
provodniks
who looked after the carriage listened impassively and shrugged. There were no first-class compartments in their section, but they would send for their superior. When the uniformed conductor arrived fifteen minutes later he explained that the few double compartments had been booked months in advance. He could do nothing about it now, but should they wish to continue on from Krasnoyarsk he would see what he could do. In the meantime, he’d arrange for their extra luggage to be stored elsewhere. Jamie tipped him lavishly to ensure he remembered and the Russian nodded gravely. ‘On this train all service is First Class,’ he insisted without irony. ‘You will be very comfortable.’

By the time Jamie returned to the compartment, Magda was seated opposite the two Russians and their travel essentials were already stored in the capacious luggage racks above. ‘Boris and Ludmilla have been very helpful.’ She smiled at the mismatched pair on the far bench. Boris had the build of a wrestler and the deep, unfathomable eyes of the Russian east, while Ludmilla reminded Jamie of a little brown sparrow, drab and desperate to blend in with her background. He guessed they were both in their sixties. ‘We’ve been getting by in a mixture of German, English and sign language,’ Magda explained. ‘Apparently, it’s customary for the male to have the upper bunk unless he’s subject to objectionable levels of flatulence.’ Jamie darted a wary glance at Boris and Magda grinned. ‘Hopefully that’s not the case here.’

Jamie explained the situation with the compartments, and she laughed again. ‘Don’t get all uptight, Jamie. I was only kidding about First Class all the way. This is nothing new for me. I travelled a lot when I was younger and, believe me, I’ve been on worse trains than this.’

The coach jerked into motion and a junior conductor came for their main luggage, which was still in the corridor. He handed over a numbered chit to be presented when they reached their destination. Jamie asked when the dining car opened and was told another three hours. The conductor imparted the news with a rueful shake of the head that, in hindsight, didn’t bode well.

Jamie sat down on the leather bench and nodded to their travelling companions, whose enthusiasm for conversation seemed to have been exhausted for the day. Magda leaned back and closed her eyes and Jamie watched the Moscow suburbs slip past, the residential blocks and factory buildings soon replaced by a vast forest that stretched away to his right, until, with bewildering suddenness, they were back among development again. By the time they reached the countryside proper Magda’s head was on his shoulder. He smiled at the Russian couple, but they only stared impassively, like male and female versions of the largest and smallest matryoshka dolls. They were still in the same position when he woke, with darkness outside the window and Magda Ross’s pale features reflected in the glass.

‘I didn’t have the heart to wake you,’ she apologized. ‘But my stomach tells me it’s time to eat.’

Her words seemed to trigger the two Russians into movement. Without a word Boris reached into a voluminous bag on the nearest luggage rack and pulled out a large brown paper parcel and a jar of pickles. He handed two mugs to his wife and Ludmilla whispered an apology as she brushed past Jamie’s long legs and opened the door into the corridor. Jamie stretched and yawned. ‘I don’t much fancy picnicking with Boris and Ludmilla even if we had the wherewithal so we should probably try the dining car,’ he suggested.

Magda picked up her handbag to join him. When they emerged into the corridor Ludmilla was at a samovar filling the mugs as they passed. ‘
Priyatnogo appetita, ser i ledi
,’ she said and bowed. Jamie smiled and thanked her, explaining to Magda that the Russian woman had wished them bon appetit.

They made their way to the dining car past a mixture of Russians, some of them cheerfully drunk, European tourists and a handful of either Chinese or Mongolians. It was roomy and comfortable, with plush red seats and polished wooden tables laid with snowy-white cloth. A waiter handed them an extensive menu filled with what appeared to be mouth-watering dishes. They studied the options, but the man quickly disabused them.

‘Tonight, everything is off the menu, apart from the soup, potatoes, ham and cabbage, and cake for dessert. If you order now, there is a chance … later?’ He shrugged.

Jamie expected to be as disappointed by the food as the choice, but the soup was vegetable and wholesome, the potatoes, ham and cabbage about what you’d expect from potatoes, ham and cabbage, and the cake, accompanied by some sort of fruit liqueur, surprisingly good. As they ate, Magda made him laugh with her stories about train trips across Europe in her teens, fending off elderly Italian Lotharios, and sleeping in the luggage rack of an express between Calcutta and Delhi. He was reluctant to move, but a waiter explained that the table was required for the next sitting so he paid the bill and left a handsome tip.

When they returned to the compartment, Jamie opened the door and ushered Magda inside. As he moved to join her, she stopped abruptly. In other circumstances they might have backed out and laughed in embarrassment that they’d walked into the wrong compartment. Only it was the right compartment, except Boris and Ludmilla had been replaced by an equally mismatched pair of burly Chinese gentlemen.

XX

The two men occupied exactly the same seats where Jamie and Magda had left the two Russians, but someone had made up the four bunks. They’d also drawn the blinds, leaving the occupants entirely isolated from the outside world.

In this case it wasn’t the physique that made the two men mismatched, but the facial expressions. The intruders appeared to have inherited their DNA from the Buddha. Rounded, plump-cheeked faces sat above dark suits stretched over similarly rounded torsos. Jamie decided instantly that, in the man on the right at least, it would be a fool who assumed that rounded meant chubby or flaccid. He had a flat, lipless mouth, and the unblinking eyes of a cobra stared out from beneath a seaman’s cap of black hair. His hands were clenched in a way that hinted every muscle was ready to explode into the kind of violence you only see in Jackie Chan films. The overall effect was more than chilling. This man had assassin written all over him, and Jamie had a feeling he and Magda might both be dead by now had it not been for the presence of his smiling companion.

In contrast, the second Chinese lay back in his seat with his hands folded across his stomach as if he was in his favourite chair listening to Mozart on the radio. A benevolent smile wreathed his face and his eyes twinkled as if he, and he alone, was privy to the humour of the situation. Jamie saw Magda’s jaw set and before she could make a move he closed the carriage door and steered her to her seat. He had a feeling that as long as the man kept smiling they would be safe, but he had no illusions about how dangerous he could be. It was like sitting opposite a panda with fangs.

‘Jamie, I …’

He laid a hand on her arm. This wasn’t the time for questions. From what he could see, all of Ludmilla and Boris’s luggage was still in place. That made their absence unlikely to be permanent, which he presumed was good news for Jamie and Magda as well as Ludmilla and Boris. Someone had paid them to disappear and that someone was sitting opposite. Now he waited for someone to let them into the secret of why.