CHAPTER NINE
The driver dropped them off at the Barn door and they all slipped quietly in closing the door behind them. Vincent unloaded both pistols and gave Raulf the browning to clean.
Raulf glanced at Vincent’s gun, a strange beige colour. He held out his hand to feel it and Vincent laid it on his palm. It was light, very and he glanced up at Vincent who was unbuckling his protective vest.
“Ceramic” Vincent said. “Comes apart into the most innocuous pieces as well.”
“What on earth will they think of next, by the way what happened to the Italian chap?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Misha looked up from the settee, “Sasha had money in and envelope, the man Raulf killed gave it too him.”
“Did you want it?” Raulf asked.
“No, it was how you say blood money, the militia will find it and it will disappear, and poor Gustav they kill him too, so much death.”
Vincent smiled, “Gustav seemed OK to me, a little shaken up maybe and decidedly damp, but a much richer man by now.”
“How so?” asked Misha his large brown eyes searching Vincent’s face.
“I placed it under his old backpack close to his bottle, I expect that’s the first thing he’ll head for once he dries out. No pun intended.”
“I’m pleased, thank you Mr. Lazlo.”
“Lazlo no longer.” Vincent turned to Raulf, “ For close on thirty years I had lost the use of my family name, because of a vengeful bully, and the power he held sway in my own country. You asked me Raulf a question about the Sicilian who killed Sasha, he killed my family, my animal, I finished him for Sasha and for me.”
“Sasha betrayed me.” Misha looked crestfallen. “He was my friend from school, he helped me with so much, to hide, to eat.”
“To steal.” Said Raulf sadly.
“That also, but I was caught, I was slow, Sasha escaped. We were in a garage owned by a militiaman who must have dealt in stolen property, we took from the thief what was not his, he said he did not use his garage, said I used it as a store. It was never locked; they sent me to youth institution. But the man with the name could not reach me there.”
“So in a way you were safe.”
“I was supposed to contact Uncle Todd Turpin with these names, my father told me how by writing an envelope to him with a mark under the stamp, so he would know it was from father.”
They were interrupted as the General entered the barn. He was euphoric and waved his hands trying to encompass them all.
“Excuse my lateness I just returned from delivering a parcel to the airport.” He winked at Vincent, “ and we have received news of the sudden demise of not just one but two of the enemy. The telephone rang suddenly he let them go, and picked it up.
“ My battle is not over, I have been recalled by the President himself to home in on the rest.”
“Krectahev” said Misha quietly.
“No Misha he is not the President, he holds the Defence department, he’s a Marshall.”
“Major General Krectahev.” Misha pressed his hands tightly to his head. “I remember my father told me that a week after he gave me the two names. He said the Chess master had to fall under someone’s protection, father said that the Chess master worked as a planner in the KGB and was close to Krectahev.”
“The Marshall was never in the KGB, I’m sure he was army first and possibly GRU second.” The General was scratching his eyebrow trying to work the puzzle out. Why would Alex Federova tell his son this information? He would have learnt it at a later date for sure, otherwise the two names given would have been three.
“Did your father say anything more, any more names? Are there Misha?”
“No.”
“Then we must presuppose that the Marshall could be connected, so he will be watched, in the meantime Misha’s presence continues to be a problem.”
“I have told you now all I know, now you know, they will not try to track me down.”
“Alas Misha I cannot make this connection with the Marshall common knowledge. If he is the titular head of the Russian Mafia then he may well seek you out. What we don’t know is how they got on to you in the first place. I suspect your father’s pride may have inadvertently given you away.”
“Never, it was our closet secret, he was not a Sasha, he would not betray.”
“Of course not, but before he died they may have used a truth serum, we shall never know.”
“We leave my parents in peace please, always.”
Vincent held up his hand and taking Misha’s shoulder guided him to stand by Raulf.
Raulf looked at him with query.
“My cousin, you said in the car.”
“I have a visa entry for Misha if the General could get him a Russian passport fairly quickly. There is a letter attached from the Home Secretary to go to the Embassy. Misha can come home with you Raulf, Sir Hubert has arranged it.”
“Since when?”
“Since two weeks ago.”
Raulf looked stunned, Carols Uncle must have foreseen some difficulties.
“I’d hate to play him at Whist,” was all he could say. He turned to Misha, “Will you come with us back to England, it means leaving your country for we don’t know how long?”
“You will teach me good English and I get a job.”
“Yes I’ll do my best for you my cousin, would you like to be a Turpin?”
“ He was a vagabond who stole with a horse and gun, my father said.”
“Well its not run in the family, will you take our name, it will make life a bit easier in England and the name of Federova will be lost for the moment.”
“I will be Misha F. Turpin.”
“Can you organise that please General.”
“Indeed I can, I shall have the ear of the President tomorrow, it will be one of my requests to him. You or Misha mentioned two names. Would it be to much to ask for the one so far unspoken?”
Vincent smiled a sad smile, “Alas General that remains with us, as the person is not a Russian national, and has no connection to your country.”
“But to either America or Britain.”
“That is so.”
“You prefer to keep this name from me as there is some danger to you if it were known.”
“Indeed.”
“There are two names I could recall, a honey trap in the bad old days. However I would have to give them both to you, and you would have the advantage of one more if not two if I had not picked the one you have.”
“You are in a conundrum, so my advice is to leave it to Sir Hubert?”
“Sadly none of us like mysteries but I fear Vincent you have me at check mate.” The general grinned, “Nikki is cooking tonight, you are all invited to the house where we will eat and talk sport. You should book your passages for three days from now. Misha’s passport should be ready, his photo to be taken in the house by the photographer tonight whilst we have dinner. Unfortunately, you are to remain inside the grounds of the Dacha until you leave for the airport. And Vincent that suit needs dry cleaning, so give it to our driver please. One last thing, my wife received a call from a Mr.Dobbs of your embassy, would you call him at you convenience.”
“Do you have any information on this Mr.Dobbs? He seems to have latched onto us early in the piece, you might say like a barnacle on a boat.”
“We have him down as a Trade Secretary, but that could mean he’s one of yours Vincent. I could ask around though, so don’t ring him yet.”
They parted to go to their various rooms until dinner that night. They bathed and changed, Nikki had bought over some fresh clothes for Misha, “They button on the wrong side but the jeans and coat should fit you, I had them when I was twelve!” She burst out laughing as Misha screwed up his child like face to one that looked like a monkey with protruding eyes. She then knocked on Vincent’s door to collect his suit.
Three days later they were boarding their flight to Britain without any delays, Raulf was relieved to get on board a British jet, and he missed Morton. Misha had never travelled by plane before so they gave him the window seat.
“That will keep him quite,” Vincent laughed as Raulf put his finger to his face. The three days in the barn had Misha unloading his whole life story to them both. There was pathos and sadness but Raulf understood the need to listen and attend to Misha’s constant barrage of questions about his new home.
“Make no mistake Raulf, Herbert always intended for Misha to stay at Morton. He asked why you possibly need a big empty house for, and Carol would be there to cope if necessary, your Uncle was going to adopt Misha anyhow. Hubert and Todd had worked it all out, between them when Misha’s mother died. They even had the papers prepared.
My guess is someone in London put two and two together.”
“How?’
“To adopt an foreign resident needs some pulling power at both ends, Todd’s request would have been seconded by Sir Hubert and maybe some one even higher up. I know that when Hubert Pomeroy, as he was then, had me change my nationality he went through a similar process.” Vincent smiled at the memory.
“Are you opening up like Misha?”
“No just telling the pull that Carol’s Uncle has.”
“Go on, how did you two meet?”
“I had been sent to Genoa, I was schooled in maths and languages and judo and techniques you shouldn’t know about. It was a busy life; there were other lads of course, a whole batch of poor unfortunates learning a trade of criminality. Anyhow Hubert was a British console or some such in Genoa, though I think he brief was to watch for the expansion of communism in the North, particularly the industries. I came across him when he found out about the ‘school’ we were at. He arranged for me to do some errands, watch others for him, little things like that. Eventually I picked up a certain trade craft, when he left Italy he got me over to the UK. The principals of the ‘school’ were agreeable as they felt that sometime they could call upon my services in the future.
I later learnt that the Don who got me out of Sicily was connected to the CIA, and a sting operation was going on, I’m sure my Uncle knew nothing about this, he just worked for the local Don. The school was also funded by them, I guess the purpose was to insinuate the guys into various organisations and parties, and have them report back to the States. As far as I know the sting is still in process, sometimes I work for the States, and sometimes for the Brits. I guess it all goes back to Truman, Eisenhower and Churchill. The days of the Red menace, we have left there today, the only menace coming from them now is nuclear pollution, and a new style Mafia. Hopefully the latter has been stopped in its tracks. Take care of Misha Raulf, the boys been through a lot, each one of us has lost our parents through some misfortune.”
“But you’ve regained your family name, but I am no nearer knowing who killed my parents.”
“You want vengeance. You have become like me.”
“Perhaps, but I think most people would want to know the who did it, even if they could do nothing about it.”
“For your answer, use the best man to find out for you, that would be Sir Hubert. Ask him.”
“Do you think he knows already, and Uncle Todd.”
“I say he had a pretty shrewd idea, but it worries me a little.”
“Why are you worried Vincent Bechella.”
“Thank you for the compliment of using my real name, Raulf, I see even today and perhaps always as the twelve year old coming to live at Morton.”
“And.”
“Hubert will react swiftly to the second name the three of us carry. But my instinct tells me he will try to squeeze out the most from the knowledge of that single name, and indeed you and Misha could once more become involved.”
“Tied up goats awaiting the tiger.”
“Tigers, they’ll surely be more than one.”
“Thanks for the warning, but you’ll still be around?”]
“Perhaps, I’d say a convenient transfer may be arranged to get me out the way. If Hubert could track where such a request came from he’d be onto them. I’ll stay a few days with you but we will have to seal up Morton just like the General’s Dacha.”
“Ah dinner is served, and Misha is to have his first in-flight food provided by British Airways. I think I’ll stick to the wine alone.” Raulf pushed back his seat and soon was fast asleep, later Misha slid his head on Raulf’s shoulder and was soon fast asleep.
Vincent looked them both over and turned back to the movie. He thought of the goats that he tended all those years ago. In some way Raulf and Misha reminded him of those days. Yes, maybe Carol could dissuade Sir Hubert from bulldozing through half of the British Establishment for their sake. Anyhow he was sure the Establishment could hold their own. Sir Hubert had always been a maverick bull, they didn’t like anyone different. He remembered how protective they were about Blunt and the rest, for the ‘national interest’, we will keep quite, seemed the perpetual motto they fed the naïve public. Sir Hubert was retired and would stay neatly tied up in retirement, regardless of the fact he was head and shoulders above the rest. ‘You see Vincent, I’m a grammar school lad, plucked from the shires, unknown politically with a small ‘p’, basically not a member of the club. You see I always liked to get home with the wife and we’d take a jaunt out to one of those National Trust Houses. Often we would study the guides and staff rather than the building, but most of all we loved to end up in the gardens.’
As Raulf and Misha slept so peaceably beside him, he felt compassion for them, these two represented the great decent majority, who in spite of terrors thrown at them by a spiteful world, managed to survive, and fight. He sipped his beer, and felt a warm sense of freedom pervade his body. He had at last avenged his family.