Part 27 (2/2)

The concealment of Dima and his troupe was only one of Luke's acc.u.mulating anxieties. Waiting out the nights in his upper room for Hector's random bulletins, he had too much time to a.s.semble the evidence that their presence in the village was attracting unwelcome attention, and, in his many sleepless hours, to concoct conspiracy theories that, when morning came, had an uncomfortable ring of reality.

He worried about his ident.i.ty as Brabazon, and whether the Bellevue's diligent Herr Direktor had by now made the connection between Brabazon's inspection of the hotel's amenities and the two battered Russians at the foot of the staircase; and whether from there, with police a.s.sistance, investigations had progressed to a certain BMW parked under a beech tree at Grindelwald Grund railway station.

His most drastic scenario, prompted in part by Dima's light-hearted reconstruction in the car, ran as follows: One of the bodyguards probably the cadaverous philosopher manages to haul himself up the staircase and hammer on the locked door.

Or perhaps Ollie's speculative reading of the emergency door's electronics was a little too speculative after all.

Either way, the alarm is raised and news of the fracas reaches the ears of the better-informed guests at the Arena apero apero in the Salon d'Honneur: Dima's bodyguards have been attacked, Dima has vanished. in the Salon d'Honneur: Dima's bodyguards have been attacked, Dima has vanished.

Now everything is in motion at once. Emilio dell Oro alerts the Seven Clean Envoys, who take to their mobiles and alert their vory vory brothers, who in turn alert the Prince in his castle. brothers, who in turn alert the Prince in his castle.

Emilio alerts his Swiss-banker friends, who in turn alert their their friends in high places in the Swiss administration, not excluding the police and security services, whose first duty in life is to preserve the integrity of Switzerland's hallowed bankers, and arrest anyone who impugns it. friends in high places in the Swiss administration, not excluding the police and security services, whose first duty in life is to preserve the integrity of Switzerland's hallowed bankers, and arrest anyone who impugns it.

Emilio dell Oro further alerts Aubrey Longrigg, Bunny Popham and de Salis, who alert whomever they alert, see below.

The Russian Amba.s.sador in Berne receives urgent instructions from Moscow, fuelled by the Prince, to demand the release of the bodyguards before they can sing, and more specifically to track down Dima and return him post-haste to his country of origin.

The Swiss authorities, who until now have been happy to provide sanctuary for Dima the wealthy financier, instigate a nationwide manhunt for Dima the fugitive criminal.

But there is a twist even to this lugubrious tale and, try as he may, Luke cannot unravel it. By what trail of circ.u.mstance, suspicion or hard Intelligence, did the two bodyguards present themselves at the Bellevue Palace Hotel after the second signing? Who sent them? With instructions to do what? And why? By what trail of circ.u.mstance, suspicion or hard Intelligence, did the two bodyguards present themselves at the Bellevue Palace Hotel after the second signing? Who sent them? With instructions to do what? And why?

Or put a different way: did the Prince and his brethren already have reason to know, at the time of the second signing, that Dima was proposing to break his unbreakable did the Prince and his brethren already have reason to know, at the time of the second signing, that Dima was proposing to break his unbreakable vory vory oath and become the oath and become the b.i.t.c.h b.i.t.c.h of all time? of all time?

But when Luke ventures to air these concerns to Dima albeit in diluted form he sees them brushed carelessly aside. Hector himself is no more receptive: 'Go that route, we're f.u.c.ked from day one,' he almost shouts.

Move house? Do a night flit to Zurich, Basel, Geneva? For what, finally? To leave a hornet's nest behind? mystified traders, landlords, the letting agents, the village gossip mill?

'I could get you a few guns guns, if you're interested,' Ollie suggested, in another vain effort to cheer Luke up. 'According to what I I hear, there's not a household in the village isn't bristling with them, whatever the new regulations say. It's for when the Russians come. These people don't know who they've got here, do they?' hear, there's not a household in the village isn't bristling with them, whatever the new regulations say. It's for when the Russians come. These people don't know who they've got here, do they?'

'Well, let's hope not,' Luke replied, with a brave smile.

For Perry and Gail there was something idyllic in their day-to-day existence, something as Dima would say wistfully pure. It was as if they had been landed in a far outpost of humanity, with the mission of exercising a duty of care towards their charges.

If Perry wasn't out scrambling with the boys Luke having urged him to take out-of-the-way paths, and Alexei having discovered that he did not, after all, suffer from vertigo, it was just that he didn't like Max he was strolling with Dima in the dusk, or sitting beside him on a bench at the edge of the forest, watching him glower into the valley with the same intensity that, crammed into the pepper-pot crow's-nest at Three Chimneys, he had broken off his monologue and glowered into the darkness, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, taken a pull of vodka and gone on glowering. Sometimes he demanded to be alone in the woods with his pocket recorder while Ollie or Luke kept covert watch from a distance. But he kept the ca.s.settes to himself as part of his insurance policy.

The days, however many there had been, had aged him, Perry noticed. Perhaps the enormity of his betrayal was coming home to him. Perhaps, as he stared into the eternity, or murmured secretively into his tape recorder, he was searching for some kind of inner reconciliation. His demonstrative tenderness towards Tamara seemed to suggest this. Perhaps a revived vory vory instinct towards religion had paved his way to her: instinct towards religion had paved his way to her: 'My Tamara, when she die, G.o.d gonna be deaf already, she pray so f.u.c.king hard to him,' he remarked proudly, leaving Perry with the impression that, regarding his own redemption, he was less sanguine.

Perry marvelled also at Dima's forbearance towards him, which seemed to grow in inverse proportion to his contempt for Luke's half-promises, no sooner made than regretfully withdrawn.

'Don't you worry, Professor. One day we all be happy, hear me? G.o.d gonna fix the whole s.h.i.+t,' he declared, strolling along the footpath with his hand resting proprietorially on his shoulder: 'Viktor and Alexei think you're some kinda f.u.c.king hero. Maybe one day they make you vor vor.'

Perry was not deceived by the roar of laughter that followed this suggestion. For days now he had seen himself increasingly as the inheritor of Dima's line of deep male friends.h.i.+ps: with the dead Nikita, who had made him a man; with the murdered Misha, his disciple, whom to his shame he had failed to protect; and with all the fighters and men of iron who had ruled over his incarceration in Kolyma and beyond.

Perry's improbable appointment as Hector's midnight confessor, by contrast, came out of the blue. He knew, and Gail knew Luke did not need to tell them, the daily prevarications were enough that things were not going as smoothly in London as Hector had antic.i.p.ated. They knew from Luke's body language that, conceal it as he tried, the emotional strain was telling on him also.

So when Perry's mobile chimed its encrypted melody in his ear at one in the morning, causing him to sit immediately upright, and Gail, without waiting to know who the caller was, to hurry down the corridor and check on the sleeping girls, his first thought on hearing Hector's voice was that he was about to ask Perry to bolster Luke's spirits, or more wishfully to play a more active role in spiriting the Dimas to England.

'Mind if I chat with you for a couple of minutes, Milton?'

Was this really Hector's voice? or a recorder, and the batteries were running down?

'Chat ahead.'

'Polish philosopher chap I read from time to time.'

'What's his name?'

'Kolakowski. Thought you might have heard of him.'

Perry had, but didn't feel a need to say so. 'What about him?' Was the man drunk? Too much of his malt whisky from the Isle of Skye?

'Very stern views on good and evil which I'm tending to share these days Kolakowski had. Evil is evil, period. Not rooted in social circ.u.mstance. Not about being deprived or a drug addict or whatever. Evil as an absolutely absolutely and and entirely entirely separate human force.' Long silence. 'Wondered whether you had a take on that?' separate human force.' Long silence. 'Wondered whether you had a take on that?'

'Are you all right, Tom?'

'I dip into him, you see. At bleak moments. Kolakowski. Surprised you haven't come across him. He had a law. Rather a good one in the circ.u.mstances.'

'What's bleak about this this moment?' moment?'

'The Law of Infinite Cornucopia, he called it. Not that Poles do a definite article. Not indefinite indefinite either, which tells you something, but there you are. Nub of his Law being, that there are an infinite number of explanations for any single event. Limitless. Or put in language we both understand, you'll never know which b.u.g.g.e.r hit you or why. Rather comfortable words, I thought, in the circ.u.mstances, don't you?' either, which tells you something, but there you are. Nub of his Law being, that there are an infinite number of explanations for any single event. Limitless. Or put in language we both understand, you'll never know which b.u.g.g.e.r hit you or why. Rather comfortable words, I thought, in the circ.u.mstances, don't you?'

Gail had returned and was standing in the doorway, listening.

'If I knew the circ.u.mstances, I could probably form a better judgement,' Perry said talking to Gail as well now. 'Is there anything I can do to help you, Tom? You sound a bit fragged.'

'Think you've done it, Milton, old boy. Thanks for your advice. See you in the morning.'

See you? you?

'Has he got anyone with him?' Gail asked, getting back into bed.

'Not that he mentioned.'

According to Ollie, Hector's wife Emily had ceased to live with him in London after Adrian's crash. She preferred the arctic cottage in Norfolk, which was nearer to the prison.

Luke stands stiffly beside his bed, encrypted mobile to his ear and Ollie's lash-up connecting it to the recorder parked on the side of the handbasin. It is four-thirty in the afternoon. Hector hasn't called all day and Luke's messages have gone unanswered. Ollie is out shopping for fresh trout, and Wienerschnitzel for Katya, who doesn't like fish. And home-made chips for everyone. Food is a big topic these days. Meals are taken ceremoniously, since each one may be their last together. Some are preceded by a long grace in Russian, whispered by Tamara to many crossings of the breast. At other times, when they look to her to do her piece, she declines, apparently to indicate that the company is out of divine favour. This afternoon, to fill the empty hours before dinner, Gail has decided to take the small girls down to Trummelbach to see the terrifying waterfalls that tumble down the inside of the mountain. Perry is less than happy with the plan. Agreed, she will have her mobile with her, but deep inside the mountain, what kind of signal is she going to get?

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