Alex’s limousine made its way towards the airport. He took out his phone. ‘It’s Alex. I spoke to Mikhail.’
‘And?’ Nish asked.
‘We have twenty four hours.’
‘I see.’
‘He offered us a reprieve, but I fear you will not like the bargain he offers.’
‘What is it?’
‘We’ll discuss it when I get home. I need to consider if it is worth discussing or not.’
‘What makes you think it isn’t?’
‘It feels an inequitable bargain. He offers payment in a currency the value of which we cannot determine. Hold on a minute.’ Alex looked round as the blue flashing lights from behind illuminated inside the car. He turned to his driver. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. Black BMW. F.S.B from the look of it. What do you want me to do? Your pistol is in the glove box.’
Alex looked thoughtful. He put the phone back to his ear. ‘Problem?’ Nish asked.
‘I don’t know. F.S.B.’
‘Mikhail? Where are you?’
‘On the coast road towards the airport.’
‘I can call ahead. Get a helicopter up.’
‘No, it’s too late for that. I’ll call you at the plane.’
‘And if you don’t?’
‘Then you better bake that cake...’ Alex put the phone down.
‘What do you want me to do?’ the driver asked. Alex considered his options briefly before responding.
‘You better pull over. If it goes badly, call Nish. He’ll know what to do.’
‘Let me go and see first.’
‘No. I have to deal with this, one way or the other.’
Alex’s driver pulled in to the side of the road. The following convoy of three cars pulled in behind them. The lead car flashed its lights. Alex stayed in the car. Eventually the two rear doors opened and a pair of black-suited F.S.B agents emerged. They walked over to each side of the car. The one on Alex’s side knocked on his window. Alex lowered it.
‘Is there a problem?’ Alex asked in Russian.
‘We’re sorry to delay you Marshal Dragunov. We’ll call ahead and inform your pilot you’ll be delayed.’
‘And why will I be delayed? I understand I have twenty-four hours.’
‘This is the problem Marshal. Please step out of the car.’ Alex took a short inhaled annoyed breath to make his displeasure known. He opened the door and got out of the car. The F.S.B agent closed it behind him.
The second agent walked over to his driver’s window. ‘You can leave now, we will take care of the Marshal from here.’
‘I do not take my orders from you, I take my orders from the Marshal.’
The F.S.B agent looked across to Alex. ‘Please inform your driver he can leave. This is a matter of state security. I have to insist.’
Alex walked over to the passenger window. His driver lowered it. ‘You remember these boys faces Micha. If we do not see each other again, you be sure to visit their families for me.’ Alex shot them each a cold stare. ‘And if Micha does not go home to his wife tonight, I will know who to blame.’
‘There is no problem here Marshal.’
Alex leant down to his driver. ‘I want you to give a message for me, if I am unable to. Tell my wife, tell Zara-’ Alex shook his head as he tried to think of some words. ‘If I do not come back, look for me at the cottage by the mountain. She will know the place.’
‘I will pass your message on. God be with you Aleksei.’
‘God be with you Micha. Tell your wife to go easy on the potatoes. You’re getting fat.’ Micha smiled. Alex watched as he drove off to the distance. The F.S.B agent gestured at the waiting car in the middle of the convoy. Alex slowly walked over to it. The rear passenger electric window rolled down.
‘Hello Aleksandr,’ the passenger said. Dressed in a full Marshal of the F.S.B uniform. ‘I’m glad to see you have not become complacent in the training I gave you.’
‘Hello Grigor. I wondered whom they would send. I should be honoured they hold me in such high esteem that they sent the boss to do it.’
‘Get in the car Aleksandr. You will catch your death in this cold.’ The F.S.B agent opened the opposite rear door and gestured at it. Alex drew a deep breath, walked round and got in. The car pulled away.
‘So what is it to be Grigor? Bullet in the head and a shallow grave? Poison in the hip-flask of Johnny Walker Black Label you have in your jacket pocket, perhaps a fake suicide?’
Grigor laughed softly. ‘I don’t know Aleksandr, how does one go about killing a dragon? How did Saint George do it?’
‘I don’t know Grigor. I didn’t read that fairy story.’
‘You never answer your phone. I did call.’
‘Maybe bad reception.’
‘I hear the network in Libya is not so great. You didn’t want to enjoy better hospitality with our friends in Damascus?’
‘Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery.’
‘There is no scenery in Libya.’
‘I like Tobruk.’
‘We need to talk Aleksandr.’
‘Just talk?’
‘How can we decide what we must do if we do not talk?’
‘I was under the impression it was already decided.’
‘Nothing is decided until we understand everything.’
‘And what do you not understand Grigor?’
‘I thought it was obvious...’
‘It is not.’
‘Well, why is it that the kingmaker has decided to help depose the king, of course.’ Alex looked slightly taken aback. ‘He did not believe this rumour he is hearing, he did not want to believe this rumour he is hearing, so he sent me here to ask you in person. So tell me Aleksandr, why are you helping our enemies remove the King from the Red Castle?’
‘I was not aware I was, Grigor.’
‘Then it seems we both do not understand everything...’
‘It seems we do not.’ Alex looked out the window. He stared lost in his thoughts.
‘Drink?’ Alex returned his attention and looked at Grigor offering him his silver flask.
‘Is it poisoned?’
‘Hah!’ Grigor responded. He knocked it back. ‘How little you trust. I suppose I am to blame for that.’ Alex stared out of the window again. He tried to piece the puzzle together. Then he nodded.
‘But of course. Now it all makes sense.’
‘I hope so Aleksei. For all our sakes...’ Grigor said looking serious.