Fear of the Fathers (45 page)

“How is he?” asked Grady.

“A little bit sleepy after the operation, but he'll be fine. He'll be in plaster for quite a while though. And it'll be ages before his leg's fully recovered.”

“Oh well,” said Grady. “At least he's not dead. Where is he? Can I go and see him now?”

“He's just down the hall,” said Marvo, pointing. “Second door on the right.”

“Okay,” said Grady. “I'll be back in a while to try some of that food, it smells great.”

The first door on the right was slightly ajar and Grady glanced in as he passed, catching sight of a large Asian man sitting up reading a newspaper. Something about him was familiar, but he put it to the back of his mind and carried on to see Cronin who was watching the television with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“How's it going?” said Grady.

Cronin turned his head slowly. “Not bad thanks,” he drawled. “The morphine's keeping me happy.”

“I'll bet it is,” said Grady, taking a seat next to the bed.

“I thought you would have left by now,” said Cronin.

“I would have done, but I forgot to set my alarm. I've been out for the count all day. It's thrown all my plans. Anyway, Marvo said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. If you reach inside my jacket pocket there's something I want you to see.”

Grady retrieved the jacket from the end of the bed and removed an old parchment. After opening it up he studied it briefly and shrugged. “What is it?” he asked.

“You're aware of the box that Stratton's taking to India?”

Grady nodded. “Only too well.”

“Well, it's a key to all the symbols on the front of it.”

“Shouldn't it be in the box?” said Grady suspiciously.

“Of course,” said Cronin. “But one is no use without the other, so for safety's sake Stratton and I decided to separate them for the journey. I'm supposed to fly over to India and meet them at the box's final destination in the jungle. Of course now…”

Knowing what was coming next Grady tensed up. “No!” he said firmly. “Absolutely one hundred percent fucking not. I'm going to have something to eat here, then I'm going to collect my stuff from the Dorchester and get the first plane back to LA.”

“Calm down,” said Cronin. “I haven't asked you anything yet.”

“No. But you're going to, I can tell. I came over to save my buddy Jennings, and that's it. I did not sign up for some suicidal fucking adventure into the middle of nowhere.”

Cronin sighed. “The thing is Grady, in my current state I'm not going to be going anywhere. It's going to be at least six months before I can even think about attempting something like that. You're the only person I know who can handle this – well, the only person I can trust. You've been involved in jungle warfare haven't you? You know how to handle the terrain. All you have to do is deliver this to a temple.”

“Yes. It all sounds very easy,” said Grady drily. “In fact it sounds so easy that you can get someone else to do it. Listen Pat, I've got a pregnant wife who needs my support. I promised her I wouldn't do anything dangerous, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“It's alright Grady, I understand. We all reach a point where we've had enough. I guess getting older and being afraid go hand in hand. And I expect Jennings and Stratton will understand as well.”

Grady stood up and wagged his finger. “Don't try and pull that one on me Pat. I'm not afraid, and you know it. If you'd asked me six months ago then I wouldn't have thought twice, but things have changed now. Everything's different.” He paced to the window and looked out into the trees. “Everything's different,” he repeated softly.

“Oh well,” said Cronin. “I can't say I didn't try. I shall have to think of someone else.”

Grady turned back round. “Hey look man, I'm sorry,” he said. “But I've got more than just myself to think about nowadays. I'm sure you'll find someone. I'm probably not the best person for the job anyway. It's been years since I was in the jungle, and I'm not exactly in the best shape either. You need someone younger and fitter.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Cronin genuinely. “I'll find someone. You get back to your wife. You're a lucky man.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Grady. “Listen. I'm going to get something to eat with Marvo now, but I'll pop my head round before I leave.”

He walked back to the kitchen with an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Marvo dished up a couple of large bowls of fried rice with king prawns and they sat down to eat.

“Do you think you'll be able to get on a flight this evening?” asked Marvo.

“I guess so,” said Grady. “There's always room in first class.”

“You seem in a bit of a hurry. Why don't you wait until tomorrow?”

“I miss my wife,” said Grady. “And besides, the longer I'm over here the more likely it is that trouble's going to find me. It has a habit of doing that. I'm a responsible US citizen now, I don't need the shit any more.”

“You don't have to convince me,” said Marvo.

“I'm not trying to convince anybody,” said Grady gruffly. He started to eat faster. The sooner he was on his way the better.

Kandinsky's dining room was a stately affair, thirty feet long with dark wood-panelled walls on which hung originals by Gauguin, Klimt, Van Gogh and Picasso, to name but a few. In the centre was a twelve-seat mahogany table with matching chairs, and four three-pronged candlesticks spaced at intervals along its length. The carpet was crimson and thick.

As Jennings and Stratton walked in they were guided to their seats by a severe-looking head waiter, the first of Kandinsky's serving staff that hadn't caused Jennings to blush. Stratton was placed next to the head of the table with Jennings to his left. They were the first to arrive.

“Would you like an aperitif?” asked the waiter in a clipped English accent. “A glass of champagne perhaps?”

“Why not,” said Stratton.

“Make that two,” said Jennings.

The waiter clicked his fingers and a typically beautiful waitress appeared. She took her orders and returned two minutes later with a couple of full champagne flutes.

“I could get used to this,” said Jennings. “Do we have to go to India?”

“I do,” said Stratton. “But perhaps Mr Kandinsky would give you a job if you asked nicely.”

“I'm not sure I'd want to work,” said Jennings. “Just live on the sub. I could quite happily see out my days here.”

“I don't blame you. I can think of worse fates.”

Stella turned up a couple of minutes later. Kandinsky followed shortly after, accompanied by a tall, skinny man with a bony face and sharp agile eyes.

“Good evening my friends,” said Kandinsky. “I trust that you have been well looked after.”

“Yes thanks,” said Stratton. “Everything's perfect. You are a gracious host.”

“Good,” said Kandinsky. “I like to make a trip aboard the
Marianna
one that people will never forget. This is Anatol,” he said introducing the bony-faced man. “He is my right-hand man as you would say. If I am not around to answer your questions then he will do so. He speaks for me.”

Jennings smiled at Anatol and raised his hand in greeting. His gesture was returned with an icy stare that seemed to cut right through to his soul. But it quickly disappeared, replaced by a wide white smile straight out of a toothpaste advert. Jennings was unsure as to which expression creeped him out the most.

Kandinsky sat down and ordered two bottles of Cristal. “Where is your friend?” he asked Stratton. “Does he not know the time for dinner?”

Stratton thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean Oggi. I'm sure he'll be along in a minute. It wouldn't be like him to miss a meal.”

As if on cue a flushed-looking Oggi appeared at the doorway. “Evening,” he said. “Sorry I'm a bit late, I lost track of the time.”

“No need to apologize,” said Kandinsky, “we are all friends here. Come and sit down and join us for some champagne.”

Oggi was led to the seat next to Stella at the end of the group. “You look a bit flustered,” she said.

“Do I?” he said, avoiding her stare. “It's probably because I've hurried up here.”

“The submarine's not that long,” said Stella. “It's hardly a marathon.”

Oggi ignored her and grabbed a glass of champagne.

Five minutes later two waitresses appeared bearing trays of beluga caviar and blinis and toast.

“Here we are,” said Kandinsky to Stratton. “We shall have a taste of Mother Russia. The finest beluga that money can buy.”

For a while the table was silent as the guests savoured their food. Jennings in particular was enjoying the rare treat. He'd had caviar a couple of times and, whilst enjoying it, had never really understood what all the fuss was about. Kandinsky's luxury brand was, however, rapidly changing his mind.

“You approve?” said Kandinsky, seeing the delighted look on Jennings' face.

“Absolutely,” said Jennings. “It's one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten.”

“Good, good,” said Kandinsky. “It is nice to have people appreciate the delicacy of the flavour. There are some who just cannot.”

The main course was roast beef with Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes and vegetables. “After a taste of Russia, I thought we would have a traditional taste of England,” announced Kandinsky as the food arrived. It was accompanied by three decanters of red wine. “Chateau Laffite 1982,” Kandinsky said proudly.

“Where did you get your hands on this submarine then?” said Oggi, midway through his meal. “If you don't mind me asking that is Mr Kandinsky?”

“Not at all. And please, call me Arman. It is a decommissioned Akula-class nuclear submarine, built in the early eighties. I acquired it about five years ago and had it stripped and customized to my own design. I am a powerful man and I have many enemies, and so this seemed like the obvious way to disconnect myself from the world.”

“It must have set you back a bob or two,” said Oggi. Kandinsky gave him a puzzled look. Oggi rephrased: “I mean, it must have cost you a fair bit.”

“Yes, of course. But now I can live in relative safety. It is not good having to look over your shoulder all the time. I have done with that lifestyle. I now only wish to enjoy myself in peace.”

“Do you still have nuclear capability?” asked Stratton.

“No. We have standard torpedoes as a last line of defence, but very few. Weaponry takes up too much space and manpower. This is a home, not a battle-station.”

“Don't you have any problems from the world's navies?” asked Stratton.

“Not at all. All the major powers know of my presence. I am left alone. I have my own unique signal to avoid confusion with enemy vessels.”

Stratton took a sip of wine. “This is excellent,” he said. “I have to admit, when Father Pat said he'd secured us a passage to India, we all thought it was going to be on a working boat. We had no idea it would be like this. What's your connection with him by the way?”

“Let us just say that I am sympathetic to his cause. And I do not mean the Catholic Church.”

“So you know of what we're doing?”

“Of course. You do not think I would allow you on board without knowing everything, do you? I have done many bad things in my life, many unspeakable things that may not be forgiven, but as I grow older I learn and understand more. More than anyone I understand man's desire for power and how it can lead to destruction. I cannot undo what is done, but I can use the wealth I have accumulated to help where it is needed.”

Stratton saw an evanescent flicker of emotion cross Kandinsky's eyes.

“How long will it take us to get there?” asked Oggi.

“I would think maybe ten days,” said Kandinsky. “What do you think Anatol?”

“About that,” he nodded.

Dessert was chocolate brownies and ice cream. Kandinsky offered it as a nod to America, a country which he had much admiration for. Oggi loosened his belt and took a second helping. He was secretly hoping that ten days was an optimistic forecast and that their journey would be nearer ten weeks.

“Tell me more about this panther of yours,” said Kandinsky as they chatted over coffee and brandy. “I was certainly intrigued at the request to bring him along.”

“He's not really mine,” said Stratton. “He's not tame like a pet. But we do have an understanding. I came across him on the moors in England. I have no idea how he got there, although I'd hazard a guess that he escaped from a private zoo.”

“Yes,” nodded Kandinsky. “There are many rich people who keep large animals as pets. I, however, have no wish to cage any living creature.”