December Read Online Free PDF Page B

purges.
    Sergey giggled manically and mimed shooting someone in the head: ‘That’s right! Shoot the bastards!’
    He turned to the bar. ‘Hey, Ivan!’ he shouted at the nearest barman. ‘Three Litvinenkos!’ He put a hot sweaty arm around both Alex and Vladimir and bent them over the bar.
    ‘This is my favourite cocktail, in memory of that bastard.’
    Vladimir nodded grimly. ‘Yes—we fucked him up good and proper.’
    Ivan the barman grinned as he lined up three highball glasses and poured lavish quantities of the ingredients, snapping off the stream of liquor with a flick of his wrists.
    Sergey listed them as they went in: ‘Vodka, crème de menthe, apple schnapps, melon liquor, a squirt of lemonade and then the final ingredient—not Polonium-210.’ He winked at Vladimir as Ivan pulled a packet of Alka-Seltzer out ofhis barman’s apron and clunked two into each glass so that the bright green contents fizzed radioactively.
    Sergey picked up his glass and clinked with the other two. ‘See you under the table!’
    Vladimir laughed and shook his head in admiration. ‘Sergey Stepanovich…’
    Sergey smiled affectionately back and then threw his arm round Alex and said to Vladimir, ‘Right, I’ve got to talk to this boring geologist. You can fuck off and find yourself something to do.’ He pointed at the pole-dancer.
    Vladimir looked at Alex and grunted, ‘Geology, huh!’ and then looked at the dancer and grinned at Sergey. ‘I prefer biology…’ he grinned, and lurched off through the crowd towards her twisting figure.
    Sergey grabbed Bayarmaa around the waist and steered her out of the room. ‘Come on, let’s go to my office,’ he said over his shoulder to Alex, who followed, clutching his foaming, green drink.
    By now he was seriously disturbed by what he had seen of Sergey. This is the man in charge of organising the most dangerous political coup ever? he thought as they threaded through the guests in the huge ground-floor room and made their way up the sweeping main staircase.
    Alex had finally remembered where he had heard Sergey’s name before—on the gossip page of The Times . There had been a paparazzi photo of him leaving a club late at night with some starlet. He couldn’t remember what the salacious element of the story was but it didn’t surprise him in the least after what he had just seen. The operation was risky enough without having a lunatic in charge of it.
    They came to the top of the broad staircase where another pole-dancer was flexing herself in a large open room. A group of businessmen was gathered around her, admiring the show.The atmosphere was calmer here: music played but guests were chatting, and canapés and champagne were circulated by yet more uniformed staff.
    Set in an alcove on one side of the room were a large pair of polished wooden double doors. In front of it a small crowd of people was standing around with drinks, talking and evidently waiting for someone. Blocking them from the door was a large man in a dark suit with buzz-cut hair and an earpiece. His hands were clasped firmly in front of him and his eyes scanned the guests in a mechanical way.
    Sergey detached himself from Bayarmaa and suddenly switched to hyperactive.
    ‘Friends, friends, friends! Yes!’ he shouted and then ran around the group embracing men and women alike, kissing everyone three times on the cheeks and making manic small talk with each of them.
    ‘Yes! Yegor! Ah-ha! The new pipeline, great flow rates! Well done! Yes! I love it!…Tatyana! Ah! I love the new store! Yes! We need to talk about the manager on the second floor, though; she’s got to go!…Misha! Great! We’ll speak about Production Line Two. I have a new idea! Maybe we’ll actually make some money out of it, heh?…OK, please, talk, drink—I’ll see you all in good time!’
    Sergey gestured to Alex to take a seat on a large divan covered in oriental rugs along the wall opposite. He then pushed open the door to his