The British barrister rose to his feet. ‘My Lords,’ he said.
‘Mr Brogan, I declare to you and your clients – by which I mean Ptarmigan, as a corporation, Mr Nazar and Ms Sabatino – that the prosecution in this case has filed with us this morning a Notice of Discontinuance.’
Pudovkin exhaled.
Not everyone in the room, and certainly not the accused, was familiar with the full meaning of the phrase. Pudovkin looked around to see how this news was being taken. If it were taken badly, he feared a backlash of public opinion against the Russian State. The public might suddenly realize that no one was being held to account for the thirty-four deaths at the Moscow Grand Prix.
Finally, the meaning was explained to the Ptarmigan prisoners. A yelp was heard from Nazar, while Pudovkin also saw Sabatino break down, weeping uncontrollably.
The noise continued in the room, intensifying as everyone caught up with the meaning of the announcement.
The State's prosecution had been dropped.
The trial was over.
Oscar Brogan was still on his feet. He had attended the eight o’clock conference with the judges where this must have been discussed; the discontinuance could not have been news to him. There was, though, a concerned look on the barrister's face.
‘My Lords,’ he called, but was completely drowned out.
A gavel bang sounded out repeatedly around the room. The court official called for order. Eventually, the room heeded the instructions.
‘My Lords,’ repeated the defence barrister in a tone that again surprised Pudovkin, ‘my clients and I are mindful that the people of Moscow are still mourning the loss of their comrades in the accident at the Grand Prix. It is hard for us, therefore, to applaud Russian justice for acknowledging that my clients were not to blame for the tragedy. I am nevertheless anxious, my Lords, to secure for my clients an unequivocal and full release from any ongoing legal responsibility in this matter, enabling that they may not only be released immediately but that they also be free to leave the country.’
Pudovkin saw Mr Brogan sit down.
The senior judge, without conferring with his colleagues, answered without hesitation: ‘Yes, Mr Brogan. Your clients are fully discharged from the Russian legal process and are free to leave Russia.’
A wall of police officers quickly formed around the cage, as protection against any kind of vigilantism from anyone who might take exception – either to the prosecution's capitulation or to the judges’ ruling.
The prisoners were then released from their cage.
Once the chains had been removed, Nazar and Sabatino hugged each other at length – as much as the halo brace would allow.
Pudovkin watched as, in no time at all, the two Ptarmigan officials were spirited out through a side door of the courtroom and into the back of the building.
SEVENTY-THREE
Police Colonel Pudovkin left the Supreme Court shortly afterwards. Had a wrong outcome been avoided? If not, why did he feel a sense of relief?
His relief, though, didn’t last long.
Pudovkin started mulling over everything to do with the case, especially the extraordinary experience of meeting the president. He now realized the significance to him of the car bomb. If the explosion and deaths hadn’t unnerved the president, Gazdanov would never have been summoned to the Kremlin. Without that meeting, Gazdanov would never have taken Pudovkin along as his prospective scapegoat. Without the consequences of the car bomb, therefore, Pudovkin realized he would not have had been brought to the president's attention. But that, now, might yet come at a price: with the Grand Prix trial having collapsed, expectations in avenging the thirty-four deaths could only turn on him. All that was left of the State's response to the tragedy was his own investigation into the perpetrators of the car bomb. There were no other distractions. Pudovkin had every expectation of the president chasing him imminently for news of his progress.
While walking back to his office, along “Embassy Row” in Povarskaya Ulitsa, Pudovkin heard a call to his mobile. He looked down at his phone. It showed no caller ID. When he answered it, though, he somehow knew instantly who it was.
‘Mr President,’ he said.
Pudovkin was anxious. He had no concrete news to give him on the investigation. Hoping to pre-empt, he blurted out: ‘Why did you halt the trial, Mr President?’
Pudovkin then held his breath, fully expecting to be shouted down.
To his surprise and relief, the president replied in a measured tone: ‘We have separation of powers in Russia, this was a judicial decision.’
Pudovkin raised his eyebrows. ‘Of course, sir.’
There was a pause.
‘The judiciary's view,’ said the president, ‘was that the trial had lost its way. You’d lost your pivotal witness. Then, the deaths of the defence lawyer – McMahon, was it? – and this Colonel Straker were attracting damaging publicity internationally.’
‘It wasn’t anything to do with the Ptarmigan lawyer calling the mayor of Moscow to testify in the trial, then?’
‘The defence calling her as a witness,’ the president scoffed, ‘would have been completely unnecessary for the trial. It would have added nothing to the evidence. Pavlova, though, would have been given a platform, enabling her to play on the international outrage at the death of another Russian professional asking questions about the State. She would have made up a load of crap about the State's opposition to critics – and perhaps, justifiably, ridiculed the prosecution's attempt to extort a witness by taking his mother hostage. The stage would have been perfect for Pavlova – all the more prominent being in the Supreme Court – to sound off about the failures of Russia's legal system. The world's media would have lapped up every salacious word and accusation. American politicians and the self-styled geopolitical experts on CNN were already bullshitting on about Russia reverting to its Cold War attributes, reverting to a communist-style oppression of civil liberties – and insisting that the US should increase its sanctions against us. Fox News were going even further in their coverage of this case and trial. No, Colonel Pudovkin, Oksana Pavlova being called as a witness would have been a catastrophe … At least,’ added the president hurriedly, ‘… that's what I’m told the judiciary thought.’
Pudovkin was staggered: Why was the president opening up to him like this? Not wanting to push it any further, and anxious to prevent the president from feeling he might already have divulged too much, Pudovkin again decided to pre-empt: ‘I am making some progress in investigating the car bomb, sir,’ he said with as much confidence as he could manage. ‘I’m chasing several leads.’
But the president didn’t ask any questions about that.
Instead, he replied: ‘Keep me posted. In the meantime, I want you to do something for me. Something controversial.’
Pudovkin's heart missed a beat. Here we go, he thought. You get in close to the centre of power, and before long the price they exact from you is control of your soul. Despite the pressures of this conversation, Pudovkin found the presence of mind to think clearly. He was not prepared to play under all conditions. Almost to his own surprise, he found himself saying: ‘That depends, Mr President.’
The president went on to explain the task.
Pudovkin listened with growing astonishment.
How should he respond to that?
Despite the momentousness of this conversation, Pudovkin did manage to voice one response:
