I insist on meeting Ekaterina in Opium, a glorious little cocktail bar and dim sum parlour in the hustling heart of Chinatown. That’s partly because I anticipate she’ll be angry on a volcanic scale, so I need our face-to-face to be in public. And it’s partly because they mix an amazing Vesperanta and offer a seafood platter that’s one of my favourites in London. I arrive half an hour early, find a discreet corner table and fortify my resolve with a couple of drinks.
It’s going to be a long few hours.
Ekaterina arrives and sits opposite me. She’s calmer than I expected. Meeker.
‘Why did you tell the Court I have the Romanov Code? They’ve been searching for it for years. Now it looks like I’ve been concealing it from them, and every other antiquity hunter who’s been questing for it. Novak, it places me in a great deal of jeopardy. Now . . . I need your help more than ever.’
‘You can drop the act, Miss Romanova. I met with Silvio Salucci. The last man alive who spoke to Taras. He told me the poor lad had said the book belonged to the Romanova woman.’ I take a sip of my Vesperanta. ‘I don’t know how it happened, but you slipped up and Taras saw the Romanov Code. I’m guessing you learnt he had the Russian Beauty and the Alexander III Fabergé egg . . . Did he show you the photos when he was drunk? Trying to impress you? So you told him about the Romanov Code. Offered a swap. A swap you never intended to go through with, but then you realised what a stupid, stupid mistake you’d made with the offer. You should never have mentioned the book. And you should have simply demanded the artefacts you wanted. They were yours by blood, after all. He had what was rightfully yours! Made you look weak. That’s why you had to kill him. And that’s why it was done so publicly. So theatrically. You were sending a message to your opponents and potential enemies. Mess with Ekaterina Romanova and this is the fate that awaits you.’
She shakes her head. ‘You’re out of your mind!’
‘Possibly. But I’m also right. Your story was the best kind of lie. So much of it was true. Your network did disband and scatter. But not because you were on the run from them. They were on the run from you. You were in it to win it from day one. You exploited the network to build up a collection of valuables. But the Romanov Code was the jackpot. That was the real prize. The game changer!’
She laughs at my claims. ‘You seem to forget I hired you to find the Romanov Code!’
‘And the way you did that was shrewd. Serving up bait I couldn’t resist. Admitting to being a former spy. Claiming to have a treasure map in an envelope. Then later – only being interested in the Romanov Code, as opposed to the gold, jewellery and other riches. Good shout. But the absolute genius bit? You knew the Court and the Russian state and God knows how many other people were hunting for the Romanov Code. So you let it be known you were searching for it, too. Both through the Foundation and through private agencies like mine. It was the ultimate piece of misdirection. Everyone thinks you’re looking for the Romanov Code, so it stands to reason you don’t possess it. It’s a ploy you’ve used brilliantly, right back since the days when you were working with Yulia Protopopov.’
For a moment, I fancy I see her mask slip. I catch a hint of pride in her own guile.
‘Here’s what I think happened,’ I tell her. ‘Years ago, you heard the rhetoric coming out of Moscow. You knew history would repeat itself. Russia would adopt an expansionist policy and that would make life difficult for émigrés in the UK. So you become an integral part of the Romanov Foundation. It’s the perfect cover, and the cherry on the Medovik is that they even fund your apparent pursuit of the book. You use it to build up your contacts and influence. I’m guessing – and this is only a guess – that you used it to launder money generated by your other activities.’
She nods. It could be an indication that she’s hearing me. But I interpret it as some kind of confirmation. ‘There was a greater reason for my requisition of the Foundation. But please, continue. I’m starting to enjoy this.’
‘You hired me because of Frank. You knew he had connections to the world of the Romanov treasure. Couldn’t do any harm to let him know you were looking for the book. He might make others in the know aware of your pursuit. It all served to emphasise the narrative you were spinning.’
I pause. Finish off my cocktail. Over Ekaterina’s shoulder, I gesture to a waiter, requesting two more.
‘Do you have any other extraordinary theories, Mr Novak?’
‘I think you were surprised when I found Maughan. Russian intelligence had never really let him go. He was embedded in a little village and I saw for myself his congregation included a great many prominent people in positions of power. Both politically and on a business level. I imagine he got titbits of intel from them and passed them on to the Kremlin. He was very, very low level. But they knew he was connected with the Court, or rather, that he was in their good books. Hence his top-of-the-range passports and sidearm. When I came asking questions, I don’t think he saw the level of trouble that signified. Until he contacted his case officer, who immediately twigged, panicked and ordered him to kill me. They couldn’t afford anything to happen to him. The thought terrified them – supposing they got the blame. The Court would be displeased. Unfortunately, the act of trying to look after him got him killed.’
‘David Fenton was always a fool.’
‘Were you his case officer?’
‘No.’
I believe her this time but keep scratching. ‘Did you have some sort of hold over his case officer?’
And there’s that half-smile again. That pride in her own guile. It has to be a weakness and so I use this moment to ask the one question that still perplexes me.
‘Ekaterina, you’re a genius. No doubt about it. I’m in awe of you. Truly. But one thing baffles me.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ She beams. ‘Ask your question, Mr Detective.’
‘Why? What in God’s name is so important about the Romanov Code that it’s made you do all this?’