“RhineBank AG. Financial insiders commonly refer to RhineBank as the world’s dirtiest bank. Not surprisingly, it has numerous Russian clients.”
“What did you do with the documents?”
“I photographed the first ten pages and emailed them to a well-known expert in Kremlin corruption.”
“Viktor Orlov?”
She nodded. “He called a few minutes later, practically breathless. ‘Where did you get these, Nina Petrovna?’ When I explained, he told me to delete the photographs from my phone at once.”
“Why?”
“He said the documents were far too dangerous to transmit electronically.”
He flew to Zurich the next day on his private jet. Nina met him in the lounge of the FBO at Kloten Airport. His left eye twitched as he leafed through the documents, an affliction that surfaced whenever he was anxious or excited.
“I take it Viktor was excited?”
“He said the documents concerned the personal finances of a very high-profile Russian. Someone close to the president. Someone from his inner circle.”
“Did he tell you who it was?”
“He said it was better if I didn’t know the man’s name. Then he instructed me to deliver the next batch of documents to him without opening the parcel.”
Gabriel ceased his slow journey round the perimeter of the room. “How did he know there was going to be a next time?”
“He said the first set of documents were only the tip of the iceberg. He said there had to be more.”
“How did you react?”
“I told Viktor that Mr. Nobody was my source. Then I reminded him of the promise he made after acquiring theGazeta.”
“What promise was that?”
“That he would never interfere in editorial matters or use theGazetato settle political scores with the Kremlin.”
“And you believed him?”
“Viktor asked me the exact same question.”
The next drop, she continued, took place in the second week of March, at a marina on the western shore of the Zürichsee. The third drop was in early April in the town of Winterthur; the fourth, in Zug. There was a lull in May, but June was a busy month, with drops in Basel, Thun, and Lucerne. Nina grudgingly delivered all the parcels to Viktor at Kloten Airport.
“And he always opened the packages in your presence?” asked Graham.
She nodded.
“Did he ever feel ill afterward? A sudden headache? Nausea?”
“Never.”
“What about you?”
“Not at all.”
“And the package you brought to London on Wednesday evening?” asked Graham. “Where did Mr. Nobody leave it?”
“A little village called Bargen near the German border. He said it would be his last drop. He said the material would be comprehensive and unambiguous.”
“Why didn’t Viktor collect the documents in Zurich?”
