The Traitor's Story (21 page)

History

Karasek stared across the desk at him and said, “You have evidence, of course?”

“Of course.” But Finn didn’t move, just stared back. “I’m not sure that this is going to work though, Mr. Karasek, because you’re not being entirely professional.”

Karasek looked stung, and was clearly desperate to make a sharp reply, one that would no doubt come to him an hour or so from now.

In the absence of a decent comeback, he said, “Don’t screw around with me.”

“I know where the girl is, but I don’t know the place myself. I’ve never been there, I have no plans to go there. So your guys who are tailing me are doing it for no reason, but if my people spot them, then we’re both screwed.”

Karasek seemed more comfortable now that he knew what the problem was, and said, “Don’t get so rattled, Harrington. I thought people like you were used to being followed.”

“I’ll bring you the evidence you need by this time tomorrow. But if I see any of your guys following me, the whole thing’s off.”

“Relax, I’ll make sure you’re not followed any longer.”

Karasek was looking superior again, but Finn was playing the paranoid card to his own advantage. He made a point of still appearing on edge, suspicious, as if convinced he was missing something.

“You’ve kept your promise? Not to mention it to your contact?”

“Naturally,” said Karasek, bemused now. “He’s not here, anyway. He’s in Moscow until Friday.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do you think I know? I kept my promise, that’s all that matters to you.” He looked at his watch. “I think we’re done for today, but I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He stood up, but leaned across the table and said, “Mr. Harrington, we both have promises to keep. If for one moment I think this is a plan to—”

Finn knew he’d get nothing else from him now, so he reverted to type and said, “I’m starting a new life, Mr. Karasek, and hard as it may be for you to believe, I’ve got bigger things to think about than taking you off the street. You’re not important to me.”

Karasek stared at him, full of hatred, and Finn had no doubt that if it weren’t for the promise of Katerina at the end of all this, he’d have pulled his gun by now.

“You should be careful with that mouth of yours—one day you get killed for it.”

Finn stood up. “This time tomorrow, I’ll bring you the paperwork.”

He left, stepping out into sunshine and a clear sky, deceptive because it was forecast to turn wet and cold by the end of the week. His phone didn’t have a signal in the club, but it started to ring almost as soon as he was on the street. It was Sofi.

“I’ve been trying to call you.”

“I didn’t have a signal—is everything okay?”

“Somebody broke into my mom and dad’s house this morning.”

He stopped and turned, a natural movement but one that allowed him to check behind him and take anyone following by surprise. There were quite a few people on the street, none of them suspicious.

“Were they hurt?”

“No, they’d gone out.”

“Was anything taken?”

“A little money, a few small things, nothing important. But I’m going out there. I’ll spend the night.”

“Do you want me to come?” Even as he said it, he knew he couldn’t go.

Sofi produced a sharp little laugh and said, “Isn’t that what caused the problem in the first place?”

“You don’t know that. It could have been anyone.”

“What were they looking for, Finn?”

It was pointless to argue it further, so he said, “I can’t say, but whatever it is, they know it’s not there now. What time will you be back tomorrow?”

“Probably in the morning. I’ll go straight to work.”

“Okay. I’m sorry if this was connected to me. A few more days and it’ll be done with.”

“I hope so.” She ended the call, and only then did he appreciate quite how angry she was—no affectionate signing off, not even a cursory goodbye.

She’d never ended a call like that before, but then, they’d never argued as far as he could remember, not properly. It made him realize all the more that he needed out of this job, because they were good together, but they needed the space and time and freedom to be with each other fully.

He took a circuitous route home, stopping on the way for a coffee, behaving oddly enough that anyone following from a distance would have been forced to close in. He still couldn’t see anyone, so it appeared that for the time being at least, Karasek had called his people off.

He cooked for himself, and realized it was another first. Although he’d been away plenty of times since Sofi had moved in, she’d never spent a night away when he was there. It wasn’t a particularly big apartment, but he walked around it after washing the
dishes, looking into each of the rooms, and it felt like he was rat
tling around inside it now.

He’d just gone back into the kitchen, ready to pour himself another glass of wine, when there was a knock at the door. He checked the spy hole and let her in.

“I was just about to have a glass of wine—would you like one?”

“Are you on your own?”

He smiled. “Louisa—enough.”

She backed down, smiling herself as she said, “I’d love a glass, thank you, and I was sorry to hear about the break-in. It’s not worth us getting involved, not now that Karasek knows the girl isn’t there.”

She followed him as far as the kitchen door and watched as he poured two glasses of wine, then stood back for him to lead the way into the living room. Once they were sitting, she raised the glass to him and took a sip.

Finn said, “Was it enough?”

“Not sure. He didn’t mention Ed by name, of course. But it’s persuasive nonetheless. Don’t try to get any more out of him tomorrow, though—I thought I detected a hint of suspicion in his voice today.”

Finn sipped at his wine, then put the glass on the table and said, “He’s spoken to Ed since he went to Moscow.”

She nodded, following suit with her own wine glass.

“Yes, and we’re not entirely sure how he’s done that, because Ed’s being carefully monitored out there. But what’s your take? Do you think he’s talked to Ed about the
Maria Nuovo
—about you?”

Finn thought of Karasek’s obsessive desire to get Katerina back, that thought mixed up now with the memory of Harry telling him that he was falling for her. It was a madness he couldn’t quite comprehend, but he knew the way people acted around obsessions like that—obsessions of any kind.

“He won’t tell Ed, and even the cocaine’s a sideshow. This girl, whoever she is, this girl is all he’s thinking about.”

“All we really know about the girl is that she was in an orphanage, thirteen years old, that she was lured away and trafficked out here. I shudder to think what a man like Karasek would do to her.”

“Presumably he knows the girl? I mean, if she was just a random girl he could replace her easily enough, whatever he wants her for.”

Louisa smiled, leaned forward, and picked up her glass, taking a sip before putting it down again.

“We wondered about that, but we caught a couple of his men talking about it. The girl comes from some provincial city. Karasek was there on business and just happened to see her walking down the street. And that was all it took, he fell head over heels in love with her, and told his men to set about enticing her away.”

It’s not what you think
—that was what Karasek had said.

“At least he doesn’t want her for a snuff movie.”

“That’s a very male response.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he said, “Louisa, I’m not suggesting being kidnapped and forced into a relationship with a man in his thirties is a happy outcome, but who knows where she is now, what danger she might be in.”

Louisa nodded, accepting the point, the clearest suggestion yet that she didn’t know what had really happened, and she looked vaguely hopeful as she said, “Someone rescued her from his man—a girl of her age couldn’t have inflicted those injuries on her own—so we just have to hope that her rescuer is just that. And, beyond that, I’m afraid it’s not really our problem.”

“So what happens now?”

“Very simple. Take the documents to him tomorrow. Go away on your long weekend . . .”

“I can do that?”

“Yes, I think so. Actually, might be better for you to be away Friday and Saturday, let the air clear.”

“You know I’m planning to stay here, so is there any reason, once it’s all done, that I can’t be exonerated?”

She sounded hesitant, and less than convincing, as she said, “No, I don’t think so.
If
it all goes entirely to plan. If we don’t achieve everything, you may have to keep that black mark—that’s the nature of deep cover, I’m afraid.”

Until now, he’d thought the only way the plan could fail was by not finding enough evidence against Perry. Karasek had been so firmly on the hook from the start that Finn had developed a certain complacency, and yet past experience told him there was every chance of the operation going wrong, of Karasek walking. And if it did, how could he stay in Tallinn then, or even in Estonia?

Louisa had known that from the start, of course she had, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction now of knowing that he’d overlooked it. Instead, he said, “And Ed, what happens with him?”

“He arrives back Friday, we parachute him into Sparrowhawk as a glorified observer. And then, in the inquest, the comments you’ve elicited from Karasek will rise to the fore. All very low-key, the way we like it.”

“Of course,” said Finn, and he was glad he hadn’t been privy to much of the detail for this operation, because the more he heard, the more doubtful he was about all of it.

Louisa looked at her watch and said, “Goodness, I’ll have to fly, but well done, Finn, a good job so far. When will you be back?”

“Sunday morning.”

“Good, well, let’s catch up then.”

He showed her to the door, and wondered once she’d gone why she hadn’t asked him where he was going. But that was simply paranoia, because he knew the most plausible explanation was that Louisa simply wasn’t interested.

He spent the next morning in the internal exile of the office, speaking to no one, hardly seeing anyone. He didn’t see Rachel, or Harry, though in the latter case he was almost relieved. He was no longer sure he’d quite know how to look Harry in the face.

After lunch, he printed the documents and took them to
Klub X. Karasek was overlooking the redecoration of his office, but immediately showed Finn into the other office. A woman was working in there, but she stood without needing to be told and left.

Karasek flicked through the papers once he was sitting, then settled back on the top sheet with a smile as he said, “This has your email address on it.”

“That’s correct. You could use that to get me in a lot of trouble. I thought about removing it, but I see it as a symbol of our mutual trust—if we’re partners in this, we’re partners, simple as that.”

Absurdly, Karasek looked touched and had to restrain himself, saying only, “Good. I like that.”

Finn stood and said, “I’ll call on Sunday if that’s okay—give you time to get back. We can arrange a drop for the money, and then I can tell you where she is.”

Karasek stood, too, and shook his hand. “Until Sunday.”

Despite the newfound air of friendship, Finn was still cautious as he walked away, and went back to his own apartment before leaving again and making for Harry’s place.

When he opened the door, the apartment seemed empty. He walked into the living room. There was the bedding on a chair in the corner, and Finn was less forgiving of Harry’s sloppiness this time.

“Katerina? It’s me, Finn.”

He heard soft footsteps and the bedroom door opened. She smiled broadly, but put her hand over her heart and said, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy now.” She came over and hugged him before stepping back, looking almost apologetic.

“So, you’re speaking English?”

“Better than before. Harry teaches me.” She put her finger up, stopping any reply he might make. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He nodded, impressed, and said, “Yes, I would, thank you.”

“Please, sit down.” She gestured to a chair, her tone full of the joy of having unlocked the mystery of another language, one she’d known in the classroom perhaps, but that was coming into its own now that she had an English-speaker for company.

She went into the kitchen, and Finn took his coat off and sat down. He noticed there were some English books on the table—novels, but also language-study books that Harry had bought for her. A short while later, she came back in with the coffees and sat on the sofa, a reminder of the first time they’d sat there together.

“So, do you like it here?” He was aware of speaking slowly, and wasn’t sure he needed to anymore, because her English had leapt forward in just a few days.

“Yes, but Harry is busy now. I read the books.” She pointed at the table.

He nodded, made a show of leaning forward to look at the books, even though he’d already done so.

“And you like Harry?” He felt guilty asking the question, innocuous as it was, as if he were betraying his friend’s trust, when in truth he was just desperate to know that Harry hadn’t betrayed his.

She nodded and said, “He’s kind, and . . . funny. He makes me
laugh.”

“Good.”

In some intangible way, he was reassured, because she didn’t sound like a girl who was besotted. She sounded like a child describing a favorite uncle, not a potential boyfriend. He looked at her, and though she was beautiful, though she looked superficially older than her years, she so obviously still had the spirit of a child that he wondered at both Harry and Karasek, at how they could not see it, too.

“On Friday I’ll come for you . . . Friday afternoon.”

“Where may I go?”

“You’ll be okay. A good friend of mine will help you. He’s Russian. He’ll help you.”

“I believe you, Finn. I . . .” She had a momentary lapse and reached over for a Russian–English dictionary, flicking through the pages before smiling and saying, “I trust you.”

Trust
. There was too much trust around at the moment, but she was right to trust him, he knew that—in his intentions, at least. And it seemed within reach now, the end of his involvement in Sparrowhawk, the way clear to get her to Stockholm, everyone else wrapped up in other concerns. If he was anxious, and he was, it was perhaps because it had all come together a little too nicely, and because nothing in this business ever concluded that neatly.