Time is relative,’ the spectre said again, still smiling.
‘You’re speaking to me from the future, aren’t you?’ Kyle breathed. It was the only answer. It was the only way the spectre could know all of this, the only way he could do all of this.
‘You’ll be very useful to me,’ said the other, slowly nodding. ‘It seems you have a sharp intuitive ability to match your precognition, Alec Kyle. Or maybe it’s all part of the same talent. But now, shall we continue?’
Still gaping, Kyle again took up the pencil. ‘I think you better had continue,’ he whispered. ‘You’d better tell me all of it, right to the end . . .’
Chapter Fifteen
Moscow, Friday evening, Dragosani’s flat on the Pushkin Road.
It was growing dark by the time Dragosani gratefully let himself into his flat and poured himself a drink. The trains had been maddeningly slow on the journey from Romania, and Max Batu’s absence had made the return trip seem that much longer. Batu’s absence, yes, and Dragosani’s growing feeling of urgency, this sensation of being rushed towards some colossal confrontation. Time was quickly passing and still there remained so much for him to do. Achingly tired, still he couldn’t rest. Some instinct urged him onward, warned him against pausing in his set course.
With a second drink inside him and beginning to feel a little better, he telephoned the Chateau Bronnitsy and checked that Borowitz was still in mourning at his dacha at Zhukovka. Then he asked to speak to Igor Vlady but Vlady had already left for home. Dragosani phoned him there, asked if he could come round. The other agreed at once.
Vlady lived in his own state flatlet not too far away but Dragosani took his car anyway; in less than ten minutes he was seated in Vlady’s tiny living-room, toying with a welcoming glass of vodka.
‘Well, Comrade?’ Vlady finally asked when they’d done with the usual formalities and preliminaries. ‘What can I do for you?’ He peered curiously, almost speculatively at Dragosani’s dark glasses and gaunt grey features.
Dragosani nodded, as if he silently confirmed something or other, and said: ‘I can see you’ve been expecting me.’
‘Yes, I thought I might be seeing you,’ Vlady carefully answered.
Dragosani decided against beating about the bush. If Vlady failed to produce the right answers he would simply kill him. He probably would anyway, eventually. ‘Very well, I’m here,’ he said. ‘Now tell me: how’s it going to be?’
Vlady was a small dark man and normally open as a book. That was the impression he achieved, anyway. Now he raised an eyebrow, put on an expression of mild surprise. ‘How’s what going to be?’ he asked, innocently.
‘Look, let’s not fool around,’ said Dragosani. ‘You probably already know exactly why I’ve come here. That’s what you’re paid for: your ability to see things in advance. So I’ll ask you again: how is it going to be?’
Vlady drew back, scowled. ‘With Borowitz, you mean?’
‘For starters, yes.’
Vlady’s face grew strangely impassive, almost cold. ‘He’ll die,’ he said, without emotion. ‘Tomorrow, at midday or thereabouts. A heart attack. Except -‘ and he paused and frowned.
‘Except?’
Vlady shrugged. ‘A heart attack,’ he repeated.
Dragosani nodded, sighed, relaxed a little. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s how it will be. And what about me – and you?’
‘I don’t do readings for myself,’ said Vlady. ‘It’s tempting, of course, but far too frustrating. To know the future and not be able to change it. Also, it’s frightening. As for you . . . that’s a bit odd.’
Dragosani didn’t like the sound of that. He put down his drink and leaned forward. ‘What’s odd?’ he asked. This might be very important to him.
Vlady took up both of their glasses and poured more vodka. ‘First let’s get something straight, you and I,’ he said. ‘Comrade, I’m not your rival. I have no ambitions
in respect of E-Branch. None at all. I know Borowitz had me in mind for the job – along with yourself – but I’m just not interested. I think you should know that.’
‘You mean you’ll step aside for me?’