“We’ll see. It depends what he says. But we’re still going to repatriate him. The Navy has a frigate waiting twenty miles off shore. They’re going to send a vessel to transfer him. There’s a smuggler’s beach at Puerto Cumarebo. We’ll take him there.”

“Fine,” Milton said. He turned and looked back to the people carrier. “Shall we get started?”

9

They took Koralev out of the Vivaro and dragged him to an old roller chair that had been left at the side of the space. They dumped him on it, his hands still cuffed behind his back and his head still covered by Beatrix’s jacket. Milton removed it. Koralev looked up, blinking a little as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was frightened, as well he ought to be; he looked left and right, shooting furtive glances at his surroundings.

“Hello, Igor,” Milton said.

The old man didn’t speak.

Milton made a show of taking off his jacket, folding it over his arm and then going back to the Vivaro to leave it on the hood. He undid his shirt cuffs and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

“I’m afraid you’ve put yourself in an awkward situation. I work for the British government. Our friends in the Central Intelligence Agency were very upset that you decided to run out on them. They said you were disloyal. Ungrateful, too—that was another word they used to describe you. They invested a lot of money in you and your work, didn’t they? I can see why they might be annoyed when they found out that you were trying to sell it to someone else.”

“Who are you?” Koralev said in a voice stretched thin by tension.

“My name’s not important. All you need to know is that this operation is unofficial. And that’s not good for you. It means I’m not constrained by British law. I have a free hand to do whatever I want when it comes to you. Anything.”

“I’m an old man, sir,” Koralev said. “You don’t need to threaten me. I won’t fight.”

Milton looked over at Beatrix; perhaps this would be easier than they had anticipated. She took out the small voice recorder that she had in her pocket and pressed record. She put the recorder in her pocket and walked around so that she was in front of Koralev’s chair. Milton nodded to the door, indicating that he would go and stand watch. Beatrix nodded back and waited for him to push up the door and duck outside.

She turned to Koralev. “Why don’t we have a chat? This doesn’t need to be unpleasant.”

“I am a scientist,” he said. “I’m just a scientist.” He jerked his head at their surroundings. “None of this is necessary. Just let me go. I just want to go home.”