But it did have to do with the fact that Dolgikh had caught him out, trapped the British spider in his own web, right here in this safe house. Normally the flat would be occupied by a staff of two or three other secret service agents, but because Cornwell (or ‘Brown’) was busy with stuff beyond the scope of ordinary espionage — a specialist job, as it were — the regular occupiers had been ‘called away’ on other work, leaving the premises suitably empty and accessible to Brown alone.
Brown had taken Dolgikh on Saturday, but only a little more than twenty-four hours later the Russian had managed to turn the tables. Feigning sleep, Dolgikh had waited until Sunday noon when Brown went out for a glass of beer and a sandwich, then had worked frenziedly to free himself from the ropes that bound him. When Brown returned fifty minutes later, Dolgikh had taken him completely by surprise. Later . . . Brown had come to with a start, mind and flesh simultaneously assaulted by smelling salts squirted into his nostrils and sharp kicks in his sensitive places. He’d found their positions reversed, for now he was tied in the chair while Dolgikh was the one with the smile. Except that the Russian’s smile was that of a hyena.
There had been one thing — really only one — that Dolgikh wanted to know: where were Krakovitch, Kyle and co now? It was quite obvious to the Russian that he’d been taken out of the game deliberately, which might possibly mean that it was being played for high stakes. Now it was his intention to get back in.
‘I don’t know where they are,’ Brown had told him. ‘I’m just a minder. I mind people and I mind my own business.’
Dolgikh, whose English was good however guttural, wasn’t having any. If he couldn’t find out where the espers were, that was the end of his mission. His next job would likely be in Siberia! ‘How did they get on to me?’
‘I got on to you. Recognised your ugly face — details of which I’ve already passed on to London. As for them recognising you: without me they wouldn’t have been able to spot you in a monkey-house at the zoo! Not that that would mean a lot. .
‘If you told them about me, they must have told you why they wanted me stopped. And they probably told you where they were going. Now you’ll tell me.’
‘I can’t do that.’
At that Dolgikh had come very close, no longer smiling. ‘Mr Secret Agent, minder, or whatever you are, you are in a lot of trouble. The trouble is this: that unless you co-operate I will surely kill you. Krakovitch and his soldier friend are traitors, for they must at least have knowledge of this. You told them I was here; they gave you your orders, or at least went along with those orders. I am a field agent outside my country, working against my country’s enemies. I will not hesitate to kill you if you are obstinate, but things will get very unpleasant before you die. Do you understand me?’
Brown had understood well enough. ‘All this talk of killing,’ he tut-tutted. ‘I could have killed you many times over, but those weren’t my instructions. I was to delay you, that’s all. Why blow it up bigger than it is?’
‘Why are the British espers working with Krakovitch?
What are they doing? The trouble with this psychic gang is this: both sides think they’re bigger than the rest of us. They think mind should rule the world and not muscle. But you and me and the others like us, we know that’s not the way it is. The strongest always wins. The great warrior triumphs while the great thinker is still thinking about it. Like you and me. You do what they tell you and I work from instinct. And I’m the one on top.’
‘Are you? Is that why you use the threat of death?’
‘Last chance, Mr Minder. Where are they?’
Still Brown wasn’t saying anything. He merely smiled and gritted his teeth.
Dolgikh had no more time to waste. He was an expert in interrogation, which on this occasion meant torture. Basically, there are two types of torture: mental and physical. Just looking at Brown, Dolgikh guessed that pain alone wouldn’t crack him. Not in the short term. Anyway, Dolgikh wasn’t carrying the rather special tools he’d require. He could always improvise but . . . it wouldn’t be the same. Also, he didn’t wish to mark Brown; not initially, anyway. It must, therefore, be psychological — fear!