A Spy's Life (56 page)

He watched for a few seconds longer, wondering if the explosion could possibly have been contrived by The Bird. But there was no sign of anyone up there and he returned to peer through the crack in the rocks. Now something was happening. He shifted his head in the crack and saw two men drop into the grave and seize Ibro by his arms. They dragged him to the top of the grave where he was questioned again, this time by Kochalyin. Each time he refused to answer he was struck in the kidneys or stomach with a rifle butt, blows which would have felled and crippled a weaker man. Harland couldn’t watch. The pain was too familiar to him. Several times he was on the point of leaping up and firing off as many rounds as he could, but that would do nothing to save Ibro and would almost certainly jeopardise Eva.

He lay there feeling wretched and powerless, as if the blows were raining on him. And then a strange thing happened with his bladder. Some deep physiological memory stirred in him and he was beginning to piss, just as he had when Kochalyin, having kept him in some agonising position for hours, began to really hurt him. He flattened his back to the rock, withdrew his penis and let himself go. When it was over he shuddered, zipped himself up and looked through the crack. It was okay: they hadn’t seen.

He felt better now, more capable of thinking about what to do. Kochalyin made a swift movement with his hand and now Ibro was being dragged to the side of the pit. He cried out as one of them kicked his injured leg. Harland thought he was being taken to the digger. He had to see what was going on. He flashed his head up and took one mental snapshot of the scene. Ibro was being bound by a chain so that his arms were pinioned to his side. They were knotting the chain and looping it around his neck. Harland knew what would follow. The digger’s engine coughed and a plume of exhaust showed in the sky. He darted another look and saw that the chain had been attached to the bucket. The arm was rising. There was a clank as the bucket righted itself in the air and took up the slack in the chain. They were going to hang Ibro if he didn’t answer their questions.

This he would not stand for. He slipped the camera from the jacket pocket and aimed it over the rocks, silently shooting off three frames. He checked the images on the camera’s screen. Kochalyin was clearly visible in all three – as were the date and time. Then he put the camera in his glove and wedged the package in the rocks. Some day soon someone would find it and think to look in the camera’s memory. It was a slight chance perhaps, but his report was out there, complete with accurate coordinates. If he disappeared, someone would come looking here, he was sure.

He drew his gun, rose to a kneeling position and aimed. The only face turned in his direction was Ibro’s. So he scrambled over the rocks and began walking, holding the gun out in front of him at Kochalyin’s back. What was going through his mind were the words of the instructor at the Fort – aim low and let the evil bastard inside you do the rest. He was perfectly calm and utterly focused on killing Kochalyin. He knew he would be killed too, but that now meant little to him as long as Kochalyin went as well. He glanced up at the helicopter, expecting to see the pilot, but there was no one sitting in the cockpit. Still no one turned round. And that, he realised, was because the digger’s engine was revving and the hydraulics along the shaft of the arm were squealing for lack of grease. Besides this, the men were engrossed in what was happening to Ibro. The bucket lifted with a jerk, the chain strained and then pulled Ibro into the air. Harland saw his face going puce. He reached the end of the pit and was forty feet from the digger when he stopped, placed the gun on his left arm, and aimed. Only then did he see Eva walking towards them from the rock. She was calling out in Russian.

‘Enough, Oleg! Enough!’

Her appearance seemed to surprise the men. They shifted and looked embarrassed. They didn’t raise their guns to her because she walked to them with her hands empty. Kochalyin turned to face her. He nodded to the man operating the digger. The arm dropped and Ibro crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Eva bent down and loosened the chain around his neck. No one moved to stop her.

‘Enough of this,’ she said, straightening up. ‘This killing, this torture – this shame.’

Then one or two of the men caught sight of Harland and levelled their weapons at him. Kochalyin turned and took him in with an unsurprised nod. But that was not what froze Harland’s blood. It was the face of the man standing next to Kochalyin. The obliging features of Macy Harp had also turned to gaze at him.

Kochalyin saw his expression and smiled.

‘Not everything is as it seems, Mr Harland,’ he said.

Harland couldn’t take it in. Macy! Macy Harp, who’d rescued him with The Bird from the villa in Prague – from Kochalyin’s clutches. Macy, the busy little fixer with the plausible, county manner. What the hell was he doing with Kochalyin? He struggled to make sense of it. Christ, he thought, was The Bird in on this too? Had they been working for Kochalyin all along?

Kochalyin was speaking again, very quietly so that Harland had to move a few paces forward to hear. Now every weapon was levelled at his head. He kept his aim, but he couldn’t fire without hitting Eva and Kochalyin knew that.

‘This man is the true killer of Tomas,’ Kochalyin was saying. ‘Tomas was like my own son, Irina. You knew that. I paid for his treatment. Whatever our disagreements, I couldn’t have him killed. Harland was the only one who knew where he was. Ask yourself, Irina, is it more likely that I was working with them to kill Tomas, or that Harland was? He is still their spy. He led them to Tomas because he was the only person who could.’

Harland could hardly believe what he was hearing. He spat out a denial. Kochalyin took no notice.

‘I was trying to find him,’ he continued, ‘but Harland got there first. He set up the hit by the river. If you don’t believe me, ask this gentleman here. His name is Mr Harp. He knows the truth because he worked with Harland. He knows what sort of man he is.’

Macy produced an accommodating smile.

‘I’m afraid it is true,’ he said in English. ‘Mr Harland was employed to hunt down Tomas and then Mr Kochalyin here. He is here to kill your ex-husband.’

As this was being said, Kochalyin moved a few feet towards Harland.

‘This man has some crazy ideas in his head. He says I tortured him back in Prague. It is a condition he has – a mental condition. But even if you ask him now, he will tell you that he has never seen me before. And if you ask Mr Harp, who rescued him with his associate, Mr Avocet, he will tell you also that he did not see me there.’ Macy obliged with a nod. ‘Why would I want to torture this man, anyway? You maybe did not know that I was working for British Intelligence?’ He paused. ‘Yes, I, Oleg Kochalyin, worked for the overthrow of that corrupt Communist system. I saw what was going on around us. Everyone did. These were dangerous times, Irina. Naturally, I could not speak of what I was doing, but ask yourself – why would I celebrate the end of those bad days by torturing him? Why would I do that? It doesn’t make sense at all.’

Kochalyin had adopted the rhetorical style he’d used on Harland, the probing interlocutor before administering the electrodes. Harland noticed his appearance with detached interest – a waxy skin, dyed eyebrows, an exceptionally cruel nose, a yellowish sickly colour to the whites of his eyes and pupils that yielded nothing. He noted the expensive but poor taste of his clothes and the flash of gold between his glove and the sleeve of his overcoat, the watch that he had first seen in the video still. Kochalyin was the picture of small-time crookedness, nothing more impressive than that. But what raised him above average evil was his sense of command.

He glanced at Eva and saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. And then, as if to match Kochalyin’s surreal challenge to the truth, the mist rolled down the mountain and in a very short time smothered the old quarry, isolating them from the rest of the world. The helicopter, the trucks and even the pit were blotted out. Harland noticed Macy looking around, and the man who was clearly Kochalyin’s bodyguard shifted a little and glanced up at the mountain.

‘You surely don’t believe this, Eva?’ Harland demanded. ‘This is a pack of lies. You know it is.’

Kochalyin smiled.

‘You call her Eva when her name is Irina? See how crazy this man has become. Look at him. He is shaking.’

It was true. He was trembling, but that was because he had lain in the cold for so long.

Eva turned to Kochalyin with a look of interest.

‘Then, Oleg, why are you here? Why were you going to kill this man?’

‘Oh, this man is nothing. We knew Harland was here and we wanted to find out who else was in the car. I have to protect myself, you know. Anyway, he would not have been killed.’

If she believes that, thought Harland, she’s lost her mind.

‘But why are you here, Oleg? If you are as innocent as you say, why have you come here?’

‘To protect the reputation of the boy I loved. I admit I have paid these men to destroy the evidence. They were all here that day and they got carried away. They’re crude folk, as you can see, and Tomas was caught up with the excitement. There was nothing I could do. I wasn’t even here when they started killing these people. It was a bad business, for sure, but Tomas was not responsible for his actions and I did not want his memory to be tainted by this.’ He gestured to the grave. Then he turned towards Ibro. ‘I have no intention of killing him, although he came here to kill me. They found many weapons in the car.’

‘And the attack on the aircraft last night – did you do that?’

He shook his head convincingly.

‘Of course not. It must have been your friends in British Intelligence, Irina. They are your friends. Yes, I knew about your work for them. It hurt me at first that you would do such a thing to me. But then I let it go because I realised that we were all born to treachery. All of us at some stage have been Mr Walter Vigo’s friend.’ He smiled magnanimously at her and then winked at Macy, who returned a rueful look.

‘You aren’t going to believe this crap?’ said Harland. ‘He’s not here clearing up some youthful indiscretion of Tomas’s. He’s been forced to dig up these bodies because the world knows about the slaughter that took place here. He will do anything to hide his actions. He sabotaged the UN plane. He had Tomas’s girlfriend tortured and killed. His men murdered Zikmund Myslbek. There’s nothing he won’t do to hide the proof.’

‘See what I mean, Irina,’ said Kochalyin with a dismissive sweep of his hand. ‘He has lost his mind. He believes that everything that is wrong with the world is the fault of Oleg Kochalyin. Does that seem likely? I do not have to listen to this. I could have him killed this very second, but I let him continue because I want you to see the man for what he really is. He is the murderer of your son. Tell him to put that gun away before someone gets hurt.’

Eva walked to Harland and put her hand out. As she did so, Harland thought he saw her light brown eyes pulse with a secret intent. She stood in front of him for a few seconds, shaking her head. He wondered furiously what she was going to do. Then Macy Harp, who was nearest to them, stepped forward and with both hands pushed the Glock upwards and wrested it from Harland’s grip. He moved away, casually inspecting the weapon.

‘Good,’ said Kochalyin, his eyes playing over the scene with a deadly satisfaction. ‘So it must be for you to decide what should be done with this man, the killer of your son.’

Now Harland understood why Kochalyin had been making his grotesque argument. He wanted to watch Eva kill him. That would be the ultimate revenge against their love – the payback for Eva’s betrayal. He felt the resignation and blankness settle in him, as it had in the East River when he thought he was going to die. Although he’d seen that look in her eye, he didn’t trust it. The bond she had with Kochalyin could not be doubted – it was evident in her every gesture. As that was the case, he really didn’t mind dying. Now his life seemed nothing more than a series of calamitous misjudgements. Hell, he hadn’t even seen Macy for what he was.

Eva seemed to have reached a decision. Kochalyin looked at her expectantly. She glanced round the group of men, then moved over to the young man with the automatic weapon. Kochalyin nodded to him. Somewhat reluctantly, he slipped the strap from his shoulder and showed Eva the safety catch. Harland didn’t understand. He knew very well that she had her own gun.

Then she made her way back to Harland, motioning to the two men who had moved either side of him, to take him to the pit. The mesmerising look was still in her eyes, but now Harland was convinced that all it held was hatred.

‘Don’t you see, Eva?’ he pleaded in English. ‘He wants you to kill me. Then he will tell you he made the whole lot up and have you killed too. It’s his revenge for you loving me – the final rape of your life by this man.’ His voice had grown dull.

One of the men cuffed his ear with the barrel, then each of them took hold of his arms and frogmarched him to the edge of the pit. At the edge Harland stumbled and fell into the unspeakable grime. He pushed himself up and wiped the filth from his face. Except for Macy, who had somehow indicated his distaste for the execution and had withdrawn, the group of men moved as one nearer to the pit, Kochalyin and his bodyguard at the centre. Kochalyin nodded.

Harland looked up at Eva as she aimed the weapon at him. ‘You were wrong, Bobby,’ she said. ‘I never loved you. I only ever loved one man.’

‘Don’t do this,’ he said. ‘For yourself – do not do this.’ His voice trailed off and he looked up into the mist, certain that he was about to die. He glimpsed something in the periphery of his vision, an indistinct shape darting in the mist between the trucks. He turned to look at Eva. He blinked once.

There was a shout, followed by a prolonged burst of automatic gunfire that raked the ground around the men. In that moment Harland’s mind registered Macy Harp diving to the snow with his gun and Eva whipping round to open fire on the men above her.

Harland was so stupefied by the sudden turn of events that he simply stood gaping at The Bird, who had emerged from the shelter of the trucks and was now advancing steadily, sweeping the area in front of him with his machine gun. Some of the men had turned to face him, but they were now being fired on from three directions and not one managed to raise his weapon. In rapid succession each crumpled and fell.