‘You have no authority. This is a federal inquiry.’
The other man didn’t stop trying to question Sabatino. Over the hubbub between Uglov and the other policeman, Straker strained to hear what he was asking her.
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ said the second interrogator in heavily accented English. ‘When did you agree to the rally with the mayor?’
But Sabatino was not listening; her attention was now held by Uglov, who was getting increasingly heated.
‘I am declaring the patient unfit to endure an interview,’ announced the consultant.
‘How could you change your mind in the space of an hour?’ barked the first interrogator. ‘No more than an hour ago you declared her to be fit enough.’
Uglov was resolute: ‘I have since consulted with colleagues.’
‘Irrelevant,’ said the policeman. ‘Your earlier medical opinion will be submitted to the court.’
‘Then I will submit a signed statement, countermanding whatever we might have discussed informally. I will testify against any statement you take from Ms Sabatino today. I will give my professional opinion that I was wrong in letting this interview proceed, and that I should not have been coerced by the police into giving permission.’
‘If you say that in court, you will look ridiculous. We will make you look ridiculous.’
‘I have no doubt,’ replied Uglov. ‘But my questioning of the patient's medical state will diminish Ms Sabatino's answers in the eyes of the jury. Her answers, today, will not serve your case, gentlemen. My patient deserves the time to heal and to come to terms with the emotional effects of her accident.’
Silence fell on the room.
No one moved.
Soon Mr Uglov moved across to Sabatino's bed and reached for the readouts from the machines monitoring her condition. The moment he looked down at one of them, he stretched across to the wall and struck the alarm. Over his shoulder he said to the policemen: ‘Her heart rate and blood pressure are disturbingly high. She's showing considerable signs of stress.’
In barely fifteen seconds or so the doors flew open and several nurses poured into Sabatino's room. McMahon translated some of the ensuing discussion.
As the medical staff approached the bed, the interrogators were crowded out. They realized their interview was over and, angrily, they began to leave.
Straker was encouraged by their departure but was now concerned by the medical attention Sabatino was receiving. From what the medics were doing, this certainly didn’t look like any kind of wheeze. One of the nurses was hurriedly administering something into the line in the patient's neck.
Sabatino seemed overcome. Tears were welling in her eyes.
Straker, moving to reach between two of the nurses, made to touch her lightly on her right hand. She smiled up at him through the tears.
‘Thank you,’ she said as pillows were rearranged behind her back. ‘How did you get here? How did you get them to stop the interview?’
‘Your text came through just in time,’ said Straker. ‘Don’t worry about any of this now, Rems. Rest yourself. Just concentrate on getting better.’
Straker was anxious to see her settle. He knew he should fight it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was desperate to ask her a question about the interrogation: ‘Rems, one question – then we’ll leave you in peace.’
She made a face of acceptance.
He asked: ‘Why on earth were those men asking you about a rally with the mayor? And which mayor were they talking about?’
THIRTY-NINE
Driving away from the hospital, Straker sat in the back of the car looking out of the window, staring at the darkened streets of Moscow, preoccupied by the scene at the Yeltsin Medical Centre. What the hell was going on? He couldn’t stop turning that monstrous interrogation over in his mind. One element of it had firmly taken root, though: that question from the police about the rally.
‘Sandy, what do you know about Remy appearing at a rally with the mayor of Moscow?’
She looked surprised. ‘Absolutely nothing. Rallies are illegal in Russia. The president's cracked down on political opposition. Rallies are banned. There are strict and heavily enforced limits on public assembly. The mayor couldn’t have held a rally.’
‘What would the police have been talking about, then? They appear to be focused on a “rally” for some reason. Can we look into this?’
McMahon rang her office and asked Pokrovsky to find out anything about such a rally. Her conversation continued.
Catching Straker's curiosity, she then said: ‘Good grief. We’ll come back and hear what you’ve got straight away.’
Straker and McMahon headed straight back to Brandeis's offices. Riding up in the lift, he finally broke his silence.
‘We only ever seem to be surprised by developments in this case,’ he stated testily. ‘We haven’t done anything, yet, to take the initiative.’
‘Court cases tend to be like that,’ McMahon said. ‘Claimants, defendants, accused are all at the mercy of the legal procedure and timetable.’
Straker shook his head. ‘That may be true, except none of the incidents mounted against us in the last two days have been procedural. They’ve all been the other side acting at our expense.’
Walking into another of Brandeis Gertner's small meeting rooms, Straker found McMahon's research team already assembled.
‘What have you got for us?’
Anatoly Pokrovsky spoke for the group. ‘We’ve been looking at the corporate personnel involved at the Autodrom – and have found out the name and composition of the entity that approached Formula One to make the bid.’
‘Sounds promising,’ said Straker.
‘I think we should say up front, though, that there are some pretty strange aspects to it,’ said Pokrovsky as he handed Straker the piece of paper.
