“When the Kremlin wants to kill someone, it’s usually an acquaintance or business associate who spikes the champagne. Just ask Crown Prince Abdullah of Saudi Arabia.”
“No chance of that.” They entered Sloane Square. The darkened facade of the Royal Court Theatre slid past Sarah’s window. “So what’s your theory? Nina Antonova, a well-known investigative reporter and professed dissident, was recruited by Russian intelligence to murder the man who singlehandedly saved her magazine?”
“Did I say recruited?”
“You choose the word.”
Christopher guided the Bentley into the King’s Road. “It is the considered opinion of both Vauxhall Cross and our brethren at Thames House that Nina Antonova is a Russian intelligence officer who burrowed her way into theMoskovskaya Gazetayears ago and has been biding her time.”
“How do you explain the assassination attempt that forced her to leave Russia?”
“Excellent Moscow Center tradecraft.”
Sarah did not dismiss the theory out of hand. “There is another possibility, you know.”
“What’s that?”
“She was duped into giving the poisoned documents to Viktor. In fact, given the peculiar circumstances of her escape from London, I’d say it’s the most likely explanation.”
“There was nothing peculiar about it. She was gone before we even knew her name.”
“Why did she check into a hotel instead of going straight to the airport? And why Amsterdam instead of Moscow?”
“There were no direct flights to Moscow at that hour. We assume she flew there this morning on a clean passport.”
“If she did, she’s probably dead by now. Frankly, I’m surprised she made it to Heathrow alive.”
Christopher turned into Old Church Street and headed north into Kensington. “I thought CIA analysts were trained not to jump to conclusions.”
“If anyone’s jumping to conclusions, it’s you and your colleagues from MI5.” Sarah contemplated the ember of her cigarette. “Viktor’s phone was off the hook when I entered the study. He must have called someone before he died.”
“It was Nina.”
“Oh, really?”
“She was in her room at the Cadogan. She left the hotel a few minutes later.”
“Was GCHQ monitoring Viktor’s phones?”
“The British government does not eavesdrop on the communications of prominent newspaper publishers.”
“Viktor Orlov was no ordinary publisher.”
“Which is why he’s dead,” said Christopher.
“What do you suppose they talked about?”
“If I had to guess, he was rather miffed at Nina for poisoning him.”
Sarah frowned. “Do you really believe a man like Viktor would waste the final moments of his life berating his killer?”
“Why else would he have called her twenty minutes after she left his house?”
“To warn her she would be next.”
Christopher turned into Queen’s Gate Terrace. “You’re quite good, you know.”
“For an art dealer,” remarked Sarah.
