‘Berne main station! The international train station, Jesus Christ! It goes all over. Goes to Paris! Budapest! Goes to Moscow!’
‘Dad told her to go there, Professor,’ Viktor insisted, lowering his voice in deliberate counterpoint to the hysterical Alexei’s.
‘Dima did, Viktor?’ – Gail.
‘Dima told her to go to the train station. That’s what Igor said. You want I call Igor again and you talk to him?’
‘He can’t, you asshole! The Professor don’t speak Russian!’ – Alexei, by now nearly in tears.
Perry again, firmly as before: ‘Viktor – in a minute, Alexei – Viktor, just say that to me again – slowly. Alexei, I’ll be yours just as soon as I’ve listened to Viktor. Now, Viktor.’
‘It’s what Igor says she told him, and that’s why he dropped her at the main station. “My dad says, I gotta go to the main train station.”’
‘And Igor’s an asshole too! He don’t ask why!’ Alexei shouted. ‘He’s too fucking stupid. He’s so frightened of Dad he just drops Natasha at the station and goodbye! He don’t ask why. He goes shopping. If she never comes back it’s not his fault. Dad told him to do it, so he did it, so it’s not his fault!’
‘How d’you know she didn’t go to the riding demo?’ Gail asked, when she had weighed their testimony this far.
‘Viktor, please,’ Perry said quickly, before Alexei could butt in again.
‘First the riding school calls us, where’s Natasha?’ Viktor said. ‘It’s a hundred and twenty-five an hour, she hasn’t cancelled. She’s supposed to do this dressage shit. They got the horse all saddled and waiting. So we call Igor on his cell. Where’s Natasha? At the train station, he says, Dad’s orders.’
‘What was she wearing?’ – Gail, turning to the distraught Alexei out of kindness.
‘Loose jeans. And like a Russian smock. Like a kulak. She’s into totally shapeless. Says she don’t like boys looking at her ass.’
‘Has she any money?’ – still to Alexei.
‘Dad gives her whatever. He spoils her totally! We get like a hundred a month, she gets like five hundred. For books, clothes, shoes she’s nuts about; last month Dad bought her a violin. Violins cost like millions.’
‘And you’ve all tried calling her?’ – Gail to Viktor now.
‘Repeatedly,’ says Viktor, who by now has cast himself as the calm, mature man. ‘Everyone has. Alexei’s cell, my cell, Katya’s, Irina’s. No answer.’
Gail to Tamara, remembering her presence: ‘Have you tried to call her?’
No answer from Tamara either.
Gail to the four children: ‘I think you should please all go to another room while I talk to Tamara. If Natasha rings, I need to speak to her first. Agreed everyone?’
*
There being no other chair in Tamara’s dark corner, Perry pulled up a wooden bench supported by two carved bears, and the two of them sat on it, watching Tamara’s tiny, black eyes move between them without engaging.
‘Tamara,’ said Gail. ‘Why is Natasha frightened to meet her father?’
‘She must have a child.’
‘Has she told you that?’
‘No.’
‘But you’ve noticed.’
‘Yes.’
‘How long ago did you notice?’
‘It is immaterial.’
‘But in Antigua already?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you discussed it with her?’
‘No.’
‘With her father?’
‘No.’
‘Why have you not discussed it with Natasha?’
‘I hate her.’
‘Does she hate you?’
‘Yes. Her mother was whore. Now Natasha is whore. It is not surprising.’
‘What will happen when her father finds out?’
‘Maybe he will love her more. Maybe he will kill her. God will decide.’
‘Do you know who the father is?’
‘Maybe it is many fathers. From the riding school. The ski school. Maybe it is the postman, or Igor.’
‘And you have no idea where she is now?’
‘Natasha does not confide in me.’
*
Outside in the stable yard it had come on to rain. In the paddock the two handsome chestnut horses were playfully head-butting each other. Gail, Perry and Ollie stood in the shadow of the horsebox. Ollie had spoken to Luke on his mobile. Luke had had a problem talking because he had Dima with him in the car. But the message that Ollie now relayed brooked no argument. His voice remained calm but his flawed cockney became a tangle in the tension:
‘We’re to get the hell out of here right now. There’s been serious developments and we can’t hold up the convoy for one single ship no more. Natasha’s got their mobile numbers, and they’ve got hers. Luke don’t want us to run into Igor, so we bloody don’t do that. He says you got to get everybody aboard now, please, Perry, and we hightail it now, got it?’
Perry was halfway back to the house when Gail drew him aside:
‘I know where she is,’ she said.
‘You seem to know quite a lot I don’t.’
‘Not that much. Enough. I’m going to get her. I want you to back me up. No heroics, no little-woman stuff. You and Ollie take the family, I’ll follow you with Natasha when I find her. That’s what I’m going to tell Ollie, and I need to know I’ve got your support.’
Perry put both his hands to his head as if he’d forgotten something, then let them fall to his sides in surrender: ‘Where is she?’
‘Where’s Kandersteg?’
‘Go to Spiez, take the Simplon railway up the mountain. Have you got money?’
‘Plenty. Luke’s.’
Perry looked helplessly at the house, then at big Ollie in his fedora waiting impatiently beside the horsebox. Then back at Gail.
‘For God’s sake,’ he breathed in bewilderment.
‘I know,’ she said.
15
In an emergency Perry Makepiece was known to his fellow climbers as a clear-headed thinker and a decisive man of action, and he prided himself on seeing little difference between the two. He was apprehensive for Gail, aware of the precariousness of the operation, appalled by Natasha’s pregnancy and by the thought that Gail should have found it necessary to keep it from him. At the same time he respected her reasons and blamed himself for them. The image of Tamara sickened out of her wits by jealousy of Natasha, like some harridan in a Dickensian novel, was disgusting to him and compounded his feelings of concern for Dima. His last sight of him in the massage room had moved him beyond an understanding of himself: an unreformed, lifelong criminal, confessed murderer and number-one money-launderer is my responsibility and friend. Much as he respected Luke, he wished that Hector hadn’t had to leave the field to his second-in-command at the moment when the operation was heading either for goal, or meltdown.
Yet his response to this perfect storm was the same as it might have been if the rope had broken under him on a bad rock face: stay steady, assess the risk, look after the weakest players, find a way. Which was what he was doing now, crouching in the horsebox with Dima’s natural and adopted children spread around him in one compartment, and Tamara’s unbiddable shadow in strips between the slats of the partition. You have two small Russian girls and two adolescent Russian boys and one mentally unstable Russian woman in your charge and your task is to get them to the top of the mountain without anyone noticing. What do you do? Answer: you get on with it.
Viktor in a rush of gallantry had demanded to accompany Gail wherever she was going, he didn’t care, just anywhere. Alexei had mocked him, insisting that Natasha only wanted her father’s attention and that Viktor only wanted Gail’s. The little girls hadn’t wanted to go anywhere without Gail. They would stay in the house and protect it till she came back with Natasha. Igor would look after them
in the meantime. To their entreaties, Perry the born group leader had repeated the same patient but emphatic answer:
‘Dima’s wish is that you come with us immediately. No, it’s a mystery tour. He told you that. You’ll know where we’re going when we’ve got there, but it’s an exciting place and you haven’t been there before. Yes, he’ll be joining us tonight. Viktor, you take these two suitcases, Alexei those two. No need to lock up, Katya, thank you, Igor will be back any minute. And the cat stays. Cats love places more than people. Viktor, where are your mother’s icons? In the suitcase. Good. Whose is that teddy bear? Well, he needs to come with us too, doesn’t he? Igor doesn’t need a bear, and you do. And everybody please go to the toilet now, whether or not you want to.’
Inside the horsebox, the girls were at first mute, then suddenly noisy and quite jolly, largely on account of Ollie and his broad-brimmed black fedora, which he solemnly doffed as he bowed them into his royal coach. Everyone had to shout above the din. Rattly horseboxes are not insulated for sound.
Where are we going? – the girls yelled.
Fucking Eton School – Viktor.
Secret – Perry.
Whose secret? – the girls.
Dima’s, silly – Viktor.
How long will Gail be?
Don’t know. Depends on Natasha – Perry.
Will they be there before us?
Shouldn’t think so – Perry.
Why can’t we look out the back?
‘Because it’s completely against Swiss law!’ Perry shouted, but the girls still had to lean forward to hear him. ‘The Swiss have laws for everything! Looking out of the back of a moving horsebox is a particularly grave offence! People who do it go to prison for a very long time! Better find out what Gail’s put in your rucksacks!’
The boys were less amenable:
‘Have we got to play with this kids’ stuff?’ Viktor bawled incredulously over the wind-rush, pointing at a Frisbee poking out of a toggle bag.
‘That’s the plan!’
‘I thought we were going to play cricket’ – Viktor again.
‘So we can go to Eton School!’ – Alexei.
‘We’ll try!’ – Perry.
‘Then we’re not going to the mountains!’
‘Why not?’
‘You can’t play cricket in the fucking mountains! No flat places! Farmers get pissed off. So we’re going somewhere flat, right?’
‘Did Dima tell you it was somewhere flat?’
‘Dima’s like you! Mysterious! Maybe he’s in deep shit! Maybe the cops are after him!’ Viktor shouted, apparently very excited by the idea.
But Alexei was incensed:
‘You don’t ask that! It’s not cool. It’s fucking shaming to ask a thing like that about your father, asshole. At Eton they’re gonna kill you for that!’
Viktor pulled out the Frisbee and, deciding to have second thoughts about it, affected to test its balance in the through-draught.
‘OK, so I didn’t ask the question!’ he yelled. ‘I revoke it totally! Our dad is not in deep shit and the cops love him. The question is hereby revoked, OK? The question was never asked. It is an ex-question!’ – which, for all its banter, left Perry speculating whether the boys had been smuggled before: perhaps back in the killing time in Perm, when Dima was still clawing his way up.
‘Can I ask you two gents something?’ he said, beckoning them forward until they were crouching beneath him. ‘We’re going to be spending a bit of time together. OK?’
‘OK!’
‘So maybe you could drop the shits and fuckings in front of your mother and the kids? Gail too.’
They consulted each other, shrugged. OK. Be like that. See if we care. But Viktor wasn’t deterred. He was cupping his hands and whisper-shouting into Perry’s ear so that the girls didn’t hear:
‘The big funeral, OK? The one we just did in Moscow? The tragedy? Thousands mourned, OK?’
‘What about it?’
‘It began as a road wreck, OK? Misha and Olga were killed in a road wreck. Bullshit. It was never a road wreck. It was a shooting. So who shot them? A bunch of crazy Chechen who didn’t steal anything and spent a fortune on Kalashnikov bullets. Why? Because they hate Russians. Bullshit. It was never the fucking Chechen!’
Alexei was pummelling him, trying to put his hand over Viktor’s mouth, but Viktor shoved it away.
‘Ask anyone in Moscow who knows anything. Ask my friend Piotr. Misha was whacked. He was up against the mob. That’s why they took him out. Olga too. Now they’re gonna try and take out Dad before the cops get him. Right, Mom?’ He was yelling at Tamara through the slats. ‘What they call a little warning to show everyone who’s boss! Mom knows all that stuff. She knows everything. She did two years in Perm police gaol for blackmail and extortion. Questioned for seventy-two hours non-stop, five times. Beaten shitless. Piotr’s seen her record. Harsh methods were employed. Official. Right, Mom? That’s why she don’t say nothing any more to anyone except to God. They beat it out of her. Hey, Mom! We love you!’
Tamara recedes further into the shadows. Perry’s mobile rings. Luke, crisp and very guarded:
‘All well?’ Luke asks.
‘So far, yes. How’s our friend?’ – Perry asks, meaning Dima.
‘Happy and sitting right here beside me in the car. Sends his best.’
‘Reciprocated,’ Perry replies cautiously.
‘From now on, whenever there’s a chance, we do smaller groups. They’re easier to move and harder to identify. Can you dress the boys up a bit?’
‘How?’
‘Just make them look a bit different from each other. So they’re not such identical twins.’
‘Sure.’
‘And take a crowded train up. Maybe spread people around. A boy to each carriage, you and the girls in another. Get Harry to buy your tickets for you in Interlaken so that you’re not all queuing up at the same desk. Understood?’
‘Understood.’
‘Any word from Doolittle?’
‘Too soon. She only just left.’
It was the first time they’d spoken directly of Gail’s defection.
‘Well, she’s doing the right thing. Don’t let her think otherwise. Tell her that.’
‘I will.’
‘She’s a godsend and we need her to be successful.’ Luke speaking in riddles. He has no choice. Dima is sitting ‘right here beside me in the car’.
Clambering past the girls, Perry taps Ollie on the shoulder and shouts appropriate instructions into his ear.
*
Katya and Irina have found their cheese rolls and crisps and are head to head, munching and humming to each other. Now and then they turn round to look at Ollie’s hat and burst out giggling. Once Katya reaches out to touch it, but loses her nerve. The twins have settled for a game of pocket chess and their bananas.
‘Next stop, Interlaken, boys and girls!’ Ollie yells over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be parking at the railway station and taking the first train up with Madam and the luggage. You lovelies have a nice walk and a sausage, maybe, and follow me up the hill in your own sweet time. Happy as agreed, Professor?’
‘All very happy as agreed,’ Perry confirms, having consulted the girls.
‘Well, we’re not happy at all!’ Alexei yelps in protest, and flops back on to the cushions with his arms out. ‘We are expletive miserable!’
‘Any particular reason?’ Perry inquires.
‘Every particular reason! We are going to Kandersteg, I know it! I will not go to Kandersteg again, ever! I will not rock climb, I am not a fucking fly, I have vertigo and I do not enjoy the companionship of Max!’
‘Wrong on all counts,’ says Perry.
‘You mean we’re not going to Kandersteg?’
‘I do.’
But Gail is, he thinks again, glancing at his watch.
 
; *
By three o’clock, thanks to a timely train connection in Spiez, Gail had found the house. It wasn’t difficult. She’d asked at the post office: does anyone know a ski teacher called Max, a private instructor, not official Swiss Ski School, parents run a hotel? The large lady at the guichet wasn’t certain so she consulted the thin man at the sorting desk, who thought he knew but for safety’s sake consulted the boy loading parcels into the big yellow trolley, and the answer came back down the line: the Hotel Rössli along the high street on the right-hand side, his sister works there.
The high street was dizzy with unseasonably early sunshine and the mountains either side were shrouded in haze. A family of honey-coloured dogs basked on the pavement or sheltered under shop awnings. Holidaymakers with sticks and sunhats peered into windows of souvenir shops, and on the terrace of the Hotel Rössli a scattering of them sat at tables eating cake and cream and drinking iced coffee through straws out of long glasses.
An overworked red-headed girl in Swiss costume was the only person serving, and when Gail tried to talk to her she told Gail to sit down and wait her turn, so instead of walking straight out again, which would have been her normal reaction, she had meekly sat down, and when the girl came she first ordered a coffee she didn’t want, then asked whether by any chance she was the sister of Max, the great mountain guide, at which the girl broke into a radiant smile and had all the time in the world.
‘Well, not a guide yet, actually, not officially, and great, I don’t know! First he must make the exam, which is rather difficult,’ she said, proud of her English and grateful to practise it. ‘Unfortunately Max began a bit late. Before, he wanted to be an architect but he didn’t like to leave the valley. He’s quite a dreamer actually, but fingers crossed, now he is settled down at last, and next year he will qualify. We hope! Maybe he is in the mountains today. Do you want me to call Barbara?’
‘Barbara?’
‘She’s actually very nice. We say she has completely converted him. It was high time, I must say!’
Blüemli. Max’s sister wrote it down for Gail on a double page torn from her notepad: