The Killing Ground

“All taken care of.”

The Broker departed, and Hussein said to Khazid, “A decent meal, I think, is what we need now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” They made their way to one of the restaurants.

IRELAND

LONDON

Chapter 10

IT HAD BEEN THE PREVIOUS DAY, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS before Hussein and Khazid reached Majorca, when Roper had astonished Boris Lhuzkov with his candid conversation. Obviously, Lhuzkov couldn’t speak to the Broker, but Volkov was a different matter. He phoned him on his secure line at the Kremlin.

“I’ve got something for you-rather interesting.”

“Well, that makes a change.”

“I’ve just had a conversation with Roper at Holland Park.”

“Have you, by God? Tell me everything.”

IT COULDN’T BE QUITE EVERYTHING, for at that stage of the game, Hussein had just buried his uncle and his two friends. Admittedly, the photo planted by Roper in the British newspapers had just appeared, but the Broker hadn’t made any mention to Volkov of Hussein’s determination still to travel to England.

“What do you think?” Lhuzkov said. “Is Roper a loose ca

“No, everything he does has a purpose. So he tells you Greta is working for Charles Ferguson. We suspected that anyway. He talks of Levin in Dublin. We know very well that Levin is in Dublin, and his sergeants. This Rashid business, the girl in Hazar, is interesting, though hardly surprising with Dillon and that wretched Salter involved. Personally, the idea that Hussein would for any reason come to England now confirms to me that it would be stupid. In my opinion, any hopes of using his services for any of our own problems must go out the window. But we’ve still got to do something about Ferguson. This unholy alliance with Dillon and Harry Salter and all his criminal co

“And so we see even the Moscow Mafia confounded.” Lhuzkov laughed. “Now that Chekov is out of the picture for a while, what do you intend to do?”

“I’m not certain, but it must be something, and soon.”

“It needs to be something to make people sit up and take notice,” Lhuzkov told him. “Physical violence may be old-fashioned, but Stransky and Chekov certainly got the point.”

“A great many people, not only in our line of work but in the criminal underworld, got the message that Harry Salter is back in business.”

“If he ever went away.”

“He’s doing a very clever thing, Boris, and even the police reluctantly approve. The things he does, he does to bad people, unpopular people.”

“Like Russians in London,” Lhuzkov said. “Billionaire oligarchs and foot soldiers in the Mafia. So they got a rough passage. Why should ordinary Londoners care?”

“I’d love to take Salter down,” Volkov said.

“You’d never get near him, just the way you’d never get near Ferguson.”

“I don’t know,”Volkov said. “I’ve always believed if you want to shoot someone, it’s perfectly possible. Look at that idiot who shot President Reagan.”

“Honey, I forgot to duck, he said to his wife.”

“Yes, he had a great sense of humor.”

“For a man intent on destroying Communism and the Soviet Union.”

“Thank you for reminding me. Let me remind you that when Igor Levin was given the job of disposing of that Chechnyan general, he got close enough to cut his throat in the hotel they were using as command headquarters.”

“Yes, Levin was a true artist.”

“Roper, of course, only talked to you so that you would talk to me. I wonder why?”

“Stirring the pot perhaps.”

And with that, they hung up.

AND WHO IS HE ringing now? Lhuzkov wondered, and indeed Volkov was already calling Igor Levin. It was eleven o’clock on as wet a morning as Dublin could provide. Levin was at his apartment, with his great view of the Liffey obscured by the gray curtain of rain outside.

Levin answered, always aware that a call on his encoded phone meant someone important, and was surprised to find Volkov on the other end, considering how short a time it had been since the last one.

“General, what a surprise. What can I do for you?”

“I won’t beat about the bush. When I spoke to you from Paris the other day, I told you I wanted you back. I also said I’d spoken to President Putin and he told me to tell you that Russia needs you and that he needs you.”

Levin burst out laughing. “What a load of balls. Who do you want killed?” He laughed again. “There are plenty of killers in Dublin. Shall I find you one?”

Volkov was furious and frustrated. “You Jewish ingrate,” he shouted.

“Only half-Jewish, my mother of blessed memory. And may I remind you that in his time my father was a much-decorated colonel in the Red Army.” He wasn’t seething at the slur, he wasn’t even angry. “Hey, General, I’ve served Russia well.”

At the other end, Volkov breathed deeply a couple of times and moderated his tone. “My dear Levin, forgive me for what I have said. As for your father, he was indeed a great man. And you’ve just given me an idea. Excuse me.”

HE HUNG UP and immediately phoned Michael Fly

“Mr. Fly

“Certainly. Is it important?”

“Vitally-to both of us.”

“Just a moment,” Fly

“Certainly, Mr. Fly

What transpired was unfortunate for Fly

“ Drumore Place and the Belov International complex. Are you still interested in the security job there?” Volkov asked.

“By God, I am.”

“Then it’s yours. I’ll see your firm gets an official contract. You’ll be responsible for all the security at the house and complex. You’ve heard of Max Chekov’s unfortunate problem in London?”

“Bad news travels fast. We know how to handle that sort of thing in Dublin. A damn shame.”

“I’m taking over. Frankly, I’m wondering if you might be the one I am looking for to take over all the security services for Belov International.”

Fly

“You are, of course, able to recruit old comrades from your days in the Provisional IRA?”

“You mean you’re after mercenaries?”

“Call them what you like. Men who are used to the gun and won’t flinch at using it. Don’t let’s beat about the bush. You know exactly what I am and I know what you were. Say I had work for you in London. Would you be able to provide suitable people?”

“To do what?”

“There’s a General Charles Ferguson who heads a special intelligence unit and is a great thorn in my side. I know you’re already familiar with some of his associates, like Sean Dillon and Harry and Billy Salter.”

“I’ve known Ferguson for nearly thirty years. Dillon as well, though differently in those days. A good comrade, but if he got in my way now, I’d shoot him without hesitation. Where is all this leading?”