“I have reasons. Why does anyone do it? Why does Perry?”
Karasek didn’t answer, but he was focusing on the details now. “You mention three or four people, but what about on the ship?”
“The guys on the ship won’t be armed, but here’s the really good thing—you can wait until the ship leaves if you like. See, they won’t hang around because they don’t want the authorities in St. Petersburg to know they stopped somewhere.”
“When?”
“Probably late Friday. You should have your people ready from Thursday onward.”
Karasek thought about it, probably realizing there was a drive involved, imagining the various places along the Baltic coast where a ship could be docked without anyone knowing about it, maybe even finding his way mentally to Kaliningrad.
He stared at Finn then, his eyes flitting about as if he was wired on something.
“A quarter of a million dollars—you could have asked me for that just for the girl.”
“True, but you’re putting things the wrong way around. I don’t care if a ton of cocaine goes up the collective noses of you and your class, so it’s a good payoff for me. I’m reluctant to give you the girl, and frankly I think you’re sick in the head, but I see it’s a way of guaranteeing my safety, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”
Karasek produced a brief contemptuous laugh, more high-pitched than he probably would have liked, and said, “That’s typical of you English—so principled, so full of morals, but you’re happy to turn blind if it’s good for you. Anyway, I told you, it’s not what you think.”
“What really concerns me, Mr. Karasek, is the possibility of it being worse than what I think, but you’re right. If we conclude this business successfully, I will turn a blind eye.”
“Then we have a deal. When will I hear more from you?”
“Monday or Tuesday. I’ll call in to get an update on the photograph. I won’t have anything before then anyway.”
Karasek stood, and Finn followed suit.
“And, if you please, some evidence. For my own peace of mind, so I know this isn’t some sting operation.”
“Evidence shouldn’t reassure you of that—we can fake the evidence—but sure, I’ll print up the emails and bring them along.” Karasek had walked around the table but Finn didn’t move, close to him now and staring into his eyes as he said, “You have to believe in me—not always, but as far as this is concerned. If you don’t, then you’d be a fool to go through with it, and like I said, you’re no fool. So if you don’t believe me, just walk away.”
Karasek smiled, superior again as he said, “Relax, Mr. Harrington, all I want is accurate information.”
“I’ll leave through the club. If anyone’s watching they might think it suspicious, me leaving by the side door.”
The body was gone from the green room and so had most of the men. One was mopping the floor, another was sitting at a different table playing solitaire. He looked up at Karasek and shrugged, dismissing the earlier bloodshed as one of those things, which Finn guessed it was for people working for Karasek.
He left through the club and was surprised to find himself emerging into daylight, his mind tricked after being in that resolutely nocturnal atmosphere. And as the winter sunlight hit his skin he felt nauseous, not because of the tightrope he’d just walked on Louisa’s behalf, but because in some intangible way he felt his own aims for the week ahead had slipped further away from him—and with them, Katerina’s safety.
Chapter Fifteen
Winter still had a hold on Uppsala. There was snow on the ground and a fierceness in the air. It reminded him of his former career more than the winters in Switzerland did, perhaps simply because he knew he was back in the north again for the first time in six years.
That in turn made him think of Harry Simons, a name which had been a certainty all this time, and one of his biggest sources of regret, but which was now causing more confusion than anything else that had happened these last few days. It was a simple enough question, whether Harry was dead or alive, but neither answer made complete sense.
Harry had died in Kaliningrad—he’d been told that as a fact, by more than one person, including Louisa Whitman. But if Harry was dead, how had they heard about Jerry de Borg? Had Finn and Harry been under surveillance by their own people long before Sparrowhawk? It didn’t seem feasible, not from what he remembered of the events and meetings and conversations that had preceded the operation.