Part 32 (2/2)

'That's right, Bernie. And he had a son and daughter called Kenny and Angela. Remember them?'

'I believe I do. Kenny went up to Scotland, I seem to remember.'

'He did. Did you keep in contact with him?'

'No.'

'What about Angela? She inherited Bernie's house. Have you visited her there?'

'No. I wouldn't have a clue where it is.'

'Hackney, 13 Ferncroft Close. You quite sure you've never been there?'

'Quite sure.'

'You didn't maybe take Sir Nigel there?'

'Not to Hackney, no, never.' Everett was looking disconcerted now. 'I don't get it. What's this all about?'

'The thing is, Wayne, with two recent homicides a.s.sociated with Chelsea Mansions, we need to make quite sure that Sir Nigel's suicide wasn't, shall we say, a.s.sisted in any way. And we're also interested to trace Freddie Clarke and make sure his video was above board. You can appreciate that.'

'Yeah, okay.'

'But you knew Sir Nigel, you drove his car, were in close physical contact with him, shook his hand, may have touched his clothes. You see my point?'

'No, frankly, I don't.'

'Your prints and DNA may crop up in the course of our forensic examinations, along with those of other people we'll want to trace. So we need samples of yours in order that we can identify and eliminate them. You'll agree to that, won't you?'

'Oh.' Everett looked troubled. 'Sir Nigel spoke to me about this. He had very firm views on the subject, and told me I should never agree to it unless it was absolutely unavoidable. He said there had been mistakes, miscarriages of justice.'

'It really would help us, Wayne, and I can a.s.sure you . . .'

'No, sorry.'

Bren sighed patiently. 'That's a pity. We'll just have to do it the slow way. Now I'm going to need details of every occasion you and Sir Nigel came into contact during the past six months . . .'

'Can you throw any light on Mr Clarke's confession, Mr Kuzmin?' Brock asked. The two men were sitting in the library in Chelsea Mansions in which Brock and Kathy had first encountered Hadden-Vane and Freddie Clarke on the night Moszynski died, over three weeks before. In front of him, Vadim Kuzmin seemed tense and preoccupied.

'That's funny.' Vadim gave a chilly smile and lit a cigarette. Apparently Shaka's prohibition no longer applied.

'Funny?' Brock said.

'Yes.' The Russian inhaled deeply. 'I thought you might be responsible, Chief Inspector. I understand you and Sir Nigel were old enemies.'

'You must have had dealings with Mr Clarke recently, in connection with Mr Moszynski's business affairs. How did he seem?'

'Uncooperative, secretive, devious. My wife is an executor of her father's estate and the chief beneficiary. She was ent.i.tled to have full information about his a.s.sets and liabilities. I was trying to get Freddie to set down on paper all the details, but he seemed reluctant. He said it was very complicated.'

'You argued over this?'

'Sure, we argued. It was intolerable.'

'But you used to be a member of the FSB Sixth Directorate, Mr Kuzmin,' Brock said with a quiet smile. 'You would know plenty of ways to get such information from a reluctant witness.'

Kuzmin looked at him sharply. 'I had nothing to do with that video.'

'Really? I wondered, you see, because it struck me that the background to the film, the setting in which it was shot, reminded me of the cellars underneath this house. We're working on sharpening those background images.'

Kuzmin shrugged, sucked again at his cigarette. 'Good luck. Have you any idea where Freddie is now?'

'He took a flight to Athens yesterday morning. We don't know where he went after that.'

'He's done this before, several times. He sits at his figures day after day until something snaps and he takes off. He has always come back before, but things are a little different now.'

'You mean he might feel responsible for Sir Nigel's suicide?'

Vadim gave a derisive snort. 'Who cares about that? No, I mean that he is now the only one who can lay his hands on half a billion dollars' worth of Mikhail's money.'

This thought hung in the air for a moment, then Brock said, 'We'd like to have access here to carry out a thorough search of the house, to make sure we didn't miss anything before.'

'Sure, be my guest, take the place apart if you want.'

Brock made a call to the team waiting outside in the square, then said, 'It looks as if someone's been digging up the floors in the cellars. Do you know why?'

'Oh, that was Mikhail's next project, a huge swimming pool in the bas.e.m.e.nt. They had to investigate the drains, to see how it could be done.'

'Is Mrs Marta Moszynski here?'

'No, she's with Alisa at our house. She doesn't like it here any more. It reminds her of Mikhail. It is painful for her. She is talking about going back to live in St Petersburg. Is that everything?' He began to get to his feet, but Brock stayed where he was, watching the other man. He seemed as anxious as Marta to leave Chelsea Mansions.

'Not quite. In the old days, when you were all living in St Petersburg, you knew Mr Moszynski's father, Gennady Moszynski, didn't you?'

'What is this, family history time?'

'In a way, yes, it is.' Brock reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph. He handed it to Kuzmin, who, just for a brief moment, gave a look of recognition, Brock thought.

'What's this?'

'That's Gennady standing there behind the girl, isn't it?'

Kuzmin's eyes darted to Brock's face, then back to the picture. 'Maybe.' He said the word carefully.

'The girl is Nancy Haynes, the other two people are her parents, the building in the background is this building, and the date is the twenty-sixth of April 1956.'

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