‘What?’
McMahon replied: ‘In today's Russia, you’re lucky to get even that.’
Matt Straker and Sandy McMahon were dropped off in Petrovka Ulitsa outside the vast taupe-coloured Greco-Roman building of the Moscow Police HQ. Staff attitudes changed instantly the moment McMahon explained why they were there and who they were authorized to see. Straker was all but strip-searched as they were admitted into the police station. One of the officers, aggressively and in very rough English, asked him: ‘Are you attached to the killer?’
Straker was taken aback.
‘Twenty-eight people are now dead,’ added the policeman.
After a further half an hour, which even included the taking of his fingerprints, Straker was escorted with McMahon into the police station, down a set of stairs and into the basement. A row of cell doors faced the corridor on either side. A video camera showing a red light swivelled as they moved. Straker and McMahon were led to the end, where one of the doors was opened. A clang from its bolts rang out harshly, echoing back along the spartan passageway.
Inside, Straker was in for a shock.
He had never seen Nazar look anything like this. He was unshaven. His hair was greasy. His clothes were dishevelled. He looked exhausted. He was sitting, crouched, at the table.
Nazar rose to his feet and greeted Straker, clutching his hand in both of his – the chains on his handcuffs rattling. A policeman stepped forwards and pushed Nazar back to separate them.
‘Hey, that's unnecessary,’ said Straker.
McMahon hissed: ‘Cool it, Straker, do not antagonize these people.’
In an effort to control his temper, Straker focused on introducing McMahon to Nazar and explaining her capacity at Brandeis Gertner and her role for Ptarmigan. Straker pulled out a chair each for McMahon and himself. The policeman was still standing by the door, inside the cell. Straker asked of McMahon: ‘Are we not allowed any privacy? You’re Tahm's lawyer – he's entitled to confidentiality, surely?’
‘Not necessarily in Russia.’
Straker looked irritated.
McMahon turned to ask the policeman: ‘Do you speak English?’
There was no reply. She repeated the question in Russian.
The man's eyes dropped to meet hers: ‘Niet.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said McMahon.
Straker shook his head, indicating a degree of resignation. ‘Tahm, I am so sorry for this tragedy. How are you keeping?’
‘Not well,’ he replied in his clipped Indian accent. He exhaled and shut his eyes. ‘I have no news about Remy.’
‘She is alive,’ answered Straker.
‘We should discuss what needs to happen next, as quickly as possible,’ declared McMahon. ‘We haven’t got long.’
Straker shook his head again before he raised the idea of compiling their own version of the accident and how it might have happened.
‘Get the guys to go over the remains of the car,’ responded Nazar. ‘Have them assess it. They’ll be able to get to the bottom of why it might have behaved like that, pretty quickly.’
‘We’re not going to be able to examine the car, Tahm.’
‘What? Why not?’
‘The police have impounded it. The court is going to appoint an expert, on whose report it will make its decision.’
‘Who's that likely to be?’
‘We don’t know, yet. Sandy expects it to be a Russian.’
‘When we have all the world-class mechanics and technicians already here for the Grand Prix?’ said Nazar.
Straker nodded.
‘Colonel Straker has mentioned that your cars carry a number of remote sensors. Will their data not be able to tell us about the race up to the point of the crash?’
Nazar nodded.
‘So what do you think happened, then, Tahm?’ Straker asked.
‘Precisely what I, myself, have been wrestling with ever since,’ he said. ‘Incarceration has at least given me unencumbered time to think things through. Matt – Ms McMahon – I remain baffled. Everything about that car was perfect. Remy had shown huge confidence in it. She would never have mounted that overtaking manoeuvre if she had had any concerns over the way it was handling. Remy is fearless, but not reckless or stupid. She was at one with that car. Whatever happened at that corner had to have been catastrophic and instantaneous. Once the accident happened, of course, we were all so devastated – and desperate to help – we never had the time to review it. I was then arrested so I’ve been completely isolated from everything ever since.’
‘What do you think happened?’
Nazar shrugged. ‘There is something strange … something not quite right with all this, Matt. Something fishy.’
At this moment the policeman stepped forward and, although he was speaking in Russian, it was clear he was calling the meeting to an end.
‘That wasn’t half an hour,’ said Straker.
McMahon held up her hand: ‘Really best not to aggravate anyone.’
