Part 20 (1/2)

It was a gloomy sort of place, the cellar, the bare lights at the far end picking the target figures out of the darkness, six of them side-by-side.

”Here you are again, then, Captain Ivanov, still wanting to try your luck?”

”That's it, Sergeant,” Ivanov told him cheerfully. ”What have you got for us today?”

”It's good for you to handle the enemy's preferred choices. There's a Glock here, if anybody fancies it. A Beretta, much used by the American Army in Vietnam. And this Browning Hi Power that's been round in the British Army for years, still the weapon of choice with many members of the SAS.”

Ivanov hesitated, a door creaked open behind, and Holley glanced over his shoulder and saw Lermov and Chekhov come in. He turned back to Ivanov.

”Of course, the Glock takes some beating, but the other two have certainly proved themselves over the years.” He turned, smiled easily at Lisin, who frowned, suddenly wary.

Lermov said, ”Show us how it's done, Sergeant.”

”A pleasure, sir.” Lisin picked up the Glock, a.s.sessed the position, and fired from left to right, deliberately, shooting the first three targets in the heart. He put the safety on and turned to Ivanov. ”Three totally dead men, and that's the point, sir, isn't it?” He held the Glock out. ”Would you like to have a go? There's still plenty of rounds in it.”

Ivanov took the Glock, holding it two-handed, turned and fired quickly at the other three targets. He caught the edge of the heart in the fourth target, the fifth under the ribs, and the sixth in the top edge of the heart.

”Not doing too well today, are we, sir?” Lisin said, a slight smile on his face, and Ivanov was shamed.

Lermov said, ”We all have our off days, Peter.”

Lisin took the Glock and fired at the three targets again in the same deliberate way, shooting each one in the center of the heart. He emptied the weapon, and turned to Holley.

”Would you like to have a go, sir? If so, I'll put up fresh targets.”

”No need,” Holley told him. ”I've never been in love with a Glock, and the Beretta is a fine weapon, but the Browning has a history to it.” He turned, holding the weapon against his right thigh, then his hand swung up, firing single-handed in an oddly old-fas.h.i.+oned way, starting with one and ending with six, shooting each target between the eyes. He ejected the magazine and pulled off his sound m.u.f.flers and placed the Browning on the table.

Lisin was dumbfounded. Ivanov stared at Holley in awe. ”I've never seen anything like that.”

”Because it's a gift.” Lermov patted Holley on the shoulder. ”From G.o.d, like all gifts.”

”From the Devil, is more likely,” Holley said. ”I'm going up to the office now.” He walked to the back of the cellar where Chekhov was standing, amazed. ”If you can spare the time, Max, I need to talk to you.”

When Chekhov joined him in the study, he found him sitting at the computer. ”Come and look at this,” Holley said. in the study, he found him sitting at the computer. ”Come and look at this,” Holley said.

Chekhov pulled a chair forward. Bolt Hole was on screen. ”Hey, I recognize that, it's a magazine interview I did. I didn't realize it was online.”

”There's more, several magazine and newspaper stories. I'll show you.”

They sat watching for five or ten minutes. Chekhov said, laughing, ”Why are people so interested? I'm not a film star.”

”You're an oligarch, a billionaire. You're a curiosity to the English. How did you buy it?”

”It was advertised for sale in Country Life Country Life magazine. I had my driver run me down to West Suss.e.x and fell in love with it i nstantly.” magazine. I had my driver run me down to West Suss.e.x and fell in love with it i nstantly.”

”And bought it, just like that?”

”It's what we oligarchs do, Daniel. We have so much money, it has no meaning anymore.”

”Do you often stay there?”

”Whenever I can. If they'd allowed me the helicopter pad, I would probably have visited more because of the convenience, but they didn't. If I go down for a while, I take staff from the town house that Belov owns in Mayfair.”

”So who looks after the place?”

”I own a cottage a mile and a half down the road on a creek running through the marsh. It's called Patch End, and a local lady, a widow named Lily White, keeps an eye on Bolt Hole and acts as housekeeper. Her son, Jacob, a local fisherman, looks after my boat, the Mermaid. Mermaid.”

”And what's that like?” Holley asked.

”A bit like a sport fisherman but about twice the size. I like to go for a sail when I'm there.”

”If the weather's right?”

”Oh, I don't know. It can be fun, or used to be. I've been limited these last couple of years with my leg.”

”Do you go anyplace else?”

”I go to the States every couple of months. Belov has a building in New York, and I visit on business.”

Holley nodded. ”Okay, that's all good to know. Now, when you return to London, make sure it's by yourself. You shouldn't be seen with anyone like Lermov or Ivanov. I'll do the same. I'll fly business cla.s.s under an a.s.sumed name on a British Airways flight to Heathrow. The only way I will communicate with you is by encrypted mobile. The same rule applies to my dealings with Lermov and Ivanov. I'd advise you to do the same.”

For a moment, the memory of his brief kidnapping and interrogation at the hands of Charles Ferguson and his people returned to haunt Chekhov, and he had an insane desire to tell Holley all about it, but that would never do. He was, after all, still in Russia. He would just have to travel hopefully.

”Everything you say makes sense. What happens when we get there, and you speak to this Caitlin Daly woman?”

”I haven't the slightest idea. She might say, 'You're out of your head, get away from me or I'll call a policeman,' which means the whole thing's off. Bizarre, isn't it?”

”It certainly is,” Max Chekhov said. ”I'll see you later.”

Soon after, the door clicked, and Ivanov entered with a large envelope, which he emptied on the desk. There was Holley's original pa.s.sport, in very good condition, along with another in the name of Daniel Grimshaw, plus a driver's license. the door clicked, and Ivanov entered with a large envelope, which he emptied on the desk. There was Holley's original pa.s.sport, in very good condition, along with another in the name of Daniel Grimshaw, plus a driver's license.

”I must say, the forgeries are excellent,” Holley told him.

”You don't have a credit card.”

”I'll take care of that myself.”

”And you're not going to tell me how.”

”Of course not.”