On their way home in a taxi, de Payns let Romy snuggle into his chest.
‘Thank you for being charming,’ she said into his shirt. ‘It makes a difference when you’re like that. It lifts the room.’
‘It went well?’ asked de Payns.
‘It was perfect,’ she said. ‘The speeches, the guest list …’
‘The frilly shirt,’ de Payns teased.
She sat up, hit him in the chest. ‘You looked great, Alec.’
‘That’s what the guests said when they asked me to fetch more wine.’
She laughed and looked him in the eye. ‘I really appreciate the effort you made tonight.’
‘I was glad to be there,’ he said. ‘Your colleagues are nice people.’
She leaned on him again. ‘What did you say to David?’
De Payns forced a smile. ‘We had a nice chat about his racing cars.’
‘What about when you went for a smoke?’ she added. ‘Did you say something to him out there? He came in looking as white as a sheet and didn’t look at me for the rest of the night.’
De Payns shrugged. ‘I have no idea. He was fine when I left him with Henry. Apparently they needed to have a talk about something, so I made myself scarce.’
‘That’s weird,’ she said. ‘He looked so worried.’
■
Shrek walked north from the Seine, and across the Place Vendôme. Behind one of the buildings that fronted the square was a trade entrance to an old building. One of the loading bays was down a ramp, in the basement level. Shrek input a passcode and walked into a holding area with two wide freight elevators in front of him. To the left was a warehouse with the Company’s white sub parked inside the roller door, Lolo leaning on it.
‘Over here,’ said Templar, who stood in the doorway of an administration office.
Henry Krause was inside, chained to an interview desk. Briffaut stood in front of him, smoking, and Danny sat on a sofa on the northern side of the office.
Briffaut met Shrek at the door. ‘I want you to question our guy,’ he said under his breath, as Templar jogged to the sub. ‘Templar’s got something he needs to do.’
‘He’s talking?’ asked Shrek, as the sub’s engine started.
‘Says he’s CIA. I want you to shake him out before we have to check that officially.’
Shrek looked at Krause: saw an educated man, good head of salt-and-pepper hair, some money behind him. Now reduced to answering questions in a basement.
Shrek took the chair in front of Krause. ‘Did you enjoy the conference?’
‘Cut the crap,’ said Krause, a disgusted look on his face. ‘Jesus, you French take the cake.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Shrek.
‘In the middle of a dinner, with Tony Blair and Bill Gates not fifty metres away, you put a hood over my head and throw me in a van? Are you out of your mind?’
‘We take spying seriously, especially if it has something to do with our energy system.’
‘Screw you and screw the DGSI,’ Krause said, trying for some authority. ‘Check my bona fides and let me out of here.’
‘You’re spying for a foreign government, and you think you’re walking out of here?’ replied Shrek, smiling. He was pleased that Starkand had the wrong agency. ‘I think you’ve seen too many movies.’
‘I work for the CIA.’
‘No one from the CIA ever says they work for the CIA,’ said Shrek. ‘That’s not how it works.’
Krause slumped. ‘I’m an agent of influence. Ask them.’
‘Are you paid?’
‘Yes,’ said Krause.
‘To do what?’ asked Shrek.
Krause looked around the room. ‘Can I have a smoke?’
Shrek gave him a cigarette and Briffaut fetched an ashtray.
‘You were saying?’
‘I influence people,’ said Krause, shrugging. ‘I tell people my opinion about certain matters, and because of my position and background, people who also have influence start to see things my way.’
‘And people fall for this?’
Krause smirked. ‘Many do.’
‘What do the Americans want you to say?’
‘You know,’ he said, sucking on his cigarette. ‘You got the mail.’
‘I want to hear what you know, not what I know,’ said Shrek.
‘Okay, lately it’s been the Russian build-up in the Eastern Med and the Black Sea, Russia’s aggressive moves in Libya, Russia controlling gas pipelines into Europe, Putin choking Europe. That kind of thing.’
‘You say lately,’ Shrek noted. ‘What about previously, when you were Raymond Quinette?’
‘That was another time, another job,’ said Krause.
‘The Belgian consultancy—Neptune Energy—that you worked for in South Africa?’
Krause shrugged eloquently.
‘So, you work at the Tirol Council, Neptune Energy and the Ligurian Institute?’ asked Shrek. ‘Sounds like interesting work, and maybe even worthwhile. So why sell out to the Americans?’
Krause paused, seeming confused, then chuckled to himself. ‘Oh, I see—you really don’t get it.’
‘What?’
‘These organisations are the Americans,’ said Krause, winking. ‘The Americans own the think tanks, and the clean energy consultancies, and those organisations pay me. They are all cover structures.’
Shrek slowly shook his head. ‘Tirol is owned by your employer?’
‘I assume so; I’ve never asked for the paperwork.’
‘So, you spout opinions to shift policy? You’re a provocateur?’
‘Well, the Russians started Greenpeace and they fund the anti-fracking activists, so I guess that makes it a level playing field. I don’t feel ashamed, if that’s what this is.’
‘So, you go down to South Africa, pretend you’re an expert adviser and talk them out of a wind farm …’
‘A wind farm financed by the Russians,’ said Krause. ‘The more wind and solar you install, the more you need gas. Get it?’
‘The Americans are putting a lot of work into other countries’ energy systems,’ Shrek remarked.
Krause smiled. ‘The Russians and Americans agree on one thing: energy is destiny.’
Shrek swapped a quick look with Briffaut. ‘So, this is about American energy?’
Krause nodded. ‘Well, LNG from the United States is more reliable and cheaper than gas from the East,’ he said. ‘In certain circles, the Americans are fairly open about this.’
‘Which circles?’ asked Shrek.
‘The IEA,’ said Krause. ‘Heard of them?’
Shrek didn’t like the condescension. ‘I don’t remember the IEA calling for American LNG in Europe.’
‘They have a ten-point plan to disconnect Europe from Russian gas,’ said Krause. ‘The American Petroleum Institute forecasts that by 2030 there’ll be no piped Russian gas being used west of Ukraine.’
Shrek looked at Briffaut, who took up the interview. ‘Sounds like American disinformation to me. That’s what you’re paid to spread, right, Henry?’
Krause shrugged. ‘It’s not my fault that journalists and government advisers ignore this material. The API and IEA are both prolific publishers.’
‘Who is your handler?’ asked Shrek, tiring of the energy talk.
‘I don’t know,’ said Krause, looking at his hands.
‘Would a week in the cells jog your memory?’
Krause sighed, exasperated. ‘Giselle. That’s the only name I’ve heard.’
‘Giselle Hess?’ asked Shrek, referring to the ID Zeitz had used in Bucharest.
‘That’s her.’
‘What’s her nationality?’
Krause said, ‘German American, I think. She speaks both languages like a native.’
‘What does she do?’
‘Gives me materials. Sometimes I just mail them to embassies and consulates, other times I slip them into papers I’m writing, as if it’s my own research. Or I can just walk them into meetings.’
‘What kind of meetings?’
Krause smiled. ‘With journalists, politicians, advisers working on energy strategy. You should really let me go; it would be better for you.’
Briffaut shook his head. ‘You’ve been caught spying in France. You should start thinking about what’s good for you.’
■
Shrek and Briffaut moved to another office in the basement, while Danny guarded Krause. Briffaut admitted that at some point he’d have to let the Americans know their agent had been caught, but there was a grace period during which a service got to question their detainee about operational matters.
‘He’s claiming to be a fool who traffics documents and narratives, no questions asked,’ said Briffaut. ‘I think we can test that.’
‘Where do you want me to push?’ asked Shrek.
Briffaut looked at the ceiling. ‘Vulcan. We got that information from Azzam, not Starkand. Let’s see what he knows about it.’
■
Shrek pulled up a chair and sat in front of Krause once more, offered the man a cigarette.
‘This is very Gestapo,’ said Krause.
‘Are you German, Henry?’ asked Shrek, leaning forward with his lighter.
‘Austrian, with a French mother.’
‘You’re painting yourself as no one in particular, but the Americans have you in the middle of something very serious with the Russians,’ said Shrek.
‘I know nothing about …’ He stopped.
‘What do you know nothing about?’
Krause slid down in his seat, so his neck was on the chair back. ‘You’ll have to contact the Americans. Just let me go.’
‘Let me make this clear: even if you were an agent of a foreign government, we would never hand you over if you were involved in an act of terror or sedition.’
Krause sat up. ‘That doesn’t apply to me. I’m an agent of influence, that’s all.’
‘Assassination falls under both.’
‘What?!’ Krause exclaimed, the veneer of cool melting. ‘I have nothing to do with assassination.’
‘You know about one, and you haven’t divulged it to the French security services,’ said Shrek.
Krause put his hands on the interview desk like a man trying to stabilise himself on a rocking ship. His eyes darted to the corners of the room, as liars often did when they were looking for a credible way through.
‘You see, Henry, when we catch Giselle she’ll be bailed out in half an hour because she’s the real thing, but you’ll be sitting in a basement trying to organise a lawyer. That’s how it goes.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘And yet you were snatched from under the noses of your US intelligence masters, and they didn’t lift a finger.’
Krause shook his head.
Shrek smiled. ‘It was actually an American who told me that there’s no such thing as an agent of influence, only a pawn on a chessboard.’
‘Fuck off,’ said the Austrian.
Shrek kept it conversational. ‘Your handler, or her handler, is dropping Henry Krause in a burn pile right now. The Americans are not coming for you.’
Krause’s eyes sought focus.
‘Shall I leave?’ asked Shrek.
‘No,’ said Krause, holding up a manacled hand. ‘Look, I have nothing to do with that assassination.’
Shrek said nothing.
‘What do I have to do to get out of here?’ asked the Austrian.
‘Tell me what you know.’
‘Okay,’ said Krause, gesturing for another smoke. ‘The only material I’ve seen that relates to assassination was originally included in a drop I did in the Netherlands. I checked what I was sending, and I objected.’
‘Why?’
‘For the reasons you just outlined,’ said Krause. ‘I didn’t want to be associated with that kind of activity. It wasn’t economic or strategic; it looked more like criminal.’
‘And what happened?’
‘I heard nothing more about it until you brought it up just now.’
‘What did the material say?’
Krause sucked on his cigarette. ‘There was a meeting on a superyacht—in Monte Carlo, I think. There was an operation called … I don’t know—Vulcan, I think it was.’
‘What is Vulcan?’
‘Something to do with Hammer and Anvil.’
‘That’s not helpful. Who’s Hammer?’
‘I’m pretty sure Hammer is Igor Kolomoisky, the Ukrainian gas oligarch,’ said Krause.
‘And Anvil?’ asked Shrek, keeping emotion out of his voice.
Krause shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Shrek let it go. ‘Where will they try to kill Kolomoisky?’
Krause was flustered. ‘There’s a big event called the Eastern Gas Conference, in Istanbul. Kolomoisky will be a surprise guest speaker.’
‘Why?’
‘I believe he’s an investor in the EastMed gas pipeline and the gas fields between Israel and Cyprus. If Kolomoisky is backing EastMed, he’ll bring his politician with him, parade him around all the bankers and oil executives.’
‘His politician?’ echoed Shrek. ‘Who would that be?’
Krause gestured for another cigarette, and Briffaut stepped forward to oblige.
‘None of this was said to me explicitly,’ he began.
‘Just tell us,’ said Shrek.
‘My guess is Volodymyr Zelenskyy,’ said Krause, avoiding eye contact.
‘You mean President Zelenskyy?’
‘Sure,’ said Krause. ‘Zelenskyy owes everything to Kolomoisky, even his television career.’
Shrek paused, the meaning of it sinking in. ‘Zelenskyy is Anvil? He’s the second target?’
Krause shrugged and tapped the ash from his smoke. ‘I honestly don’t know. If Kolomoisky is at the Eastern Gas Conference, he’ll be there to persuade the bankers and politicians supporting EastMed and to test whether there’s an appetite for it, now that the Americans no longer support it.’
‘When’s this conference in Istanbul?’ Shrek asked.
Krause breathed out. ‘Next week. Can I go now?’
Briffaut sat on the table, putting Krause in shadow. ‘One more thing you can do for me.’
‘Yes?’ replied Krause.
‘When’s the next contact with your handler?’
Krause’s eyes widened, and then he gulped.