‘And then,’ Obrenovich continued, ‘Moscow 100, as the organizer of the Grand Prix, was threatened … with krysha. Kondratiev attempted to extort no less than a hundred billion rubles from the Autodrom.’
‘Which is what?’
‘A billion pounds.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘ To stop the race.’
‘Or what?’
‘Suffer the consequences.’
‘Holy shit,’ exhaled Straker. ‘Was it paid?’
‘That amount was meant to bankrupt the circuit, or – if I was to put up the money – to take a huge toll on my finances. Krysha, on that scale, was a clear threat to me and a warning to any backer of political opponents in Russia. At the same time, any disruption of the Grand Prix would have the desired political effect of embarrassing the mayor of Moscow – denying her any kudos from the race – even tainting her public standing.’
‘Did you pay it?’ Straker repeated.
‘The size of the krysha was also meant to be a powerful message to anyone looking to challenge Kondratiev's authority in future. He was affronted by the Grand Prix being taken from under his control. He was looking to get even.’
Straker looked the oligarch directly in the eye until he held his attention.
Then he asked: ‘Mr Obrenovich, did you pay it?’
Meeting Straker's stare, Obrenovich replied: ‘I don’t give in to terrorism.’
‘Jesus,’ replied Straker. ‘You didn’t pay this krysha protection money – and you let the race run anyway?’
For the first time Obrenovich looked slightly uncomfortable.
‘A doctored corner at the race track and the deaths of thirty-four Muscovites was a direct result of this threat?’ said Straker.
Obrenovich stayed silent.
Straker sighed. ‘Gentlemen, this is a monumental fuck-up. Apart from the slaughter of innocent spectators, we have further innocents still at risk. Two staff members of Ptarmigan – completely disinterested in this political bullshit – are facing corporate manslaughter charges and twenty years in jail, all while being at the mercy of a corrupt regime run by a crime boss – whom you have antagonized. I want to hear your ideas for resolving this and for getting Tahm Nazar and Remy Sabatino off the hook and out of that godforsaken country.’
FIFTY-FOUR
Obrenovich appeared to be thrown for the first time during the meeting.
‘Well?’ asked Straker.
‘It is not going to be easy,’ replied Obrenovich.
‘I don’t care. Two innocent victims need to be cleared of any legal wrongdoing.’
‘I, myself, am at risk,’ he said. ‘There's an open warrant for my arrest in Russia. I’m now in exile, hence meeting you here in Finland. Since the deaths of Alexander Litvinenko in London, and Boris Nemtsov in Moscow, I live in fear for my own life. Who knows what the Kremlin – the FSB – are capable of doing?’
‘What bearing does that have on Ptarmigan?’ snapped Straker. ‘Your situation is a function entirely of your own doing. My interest lies solely in getting the innocent Ptarmigan people out. What are you going to do to help rectify this?’
‘What can I do?’
He turned to San Marino. ‘What about the FIA? What can you do to help?’ he asked.
‘Whatever we can,’ replied San Marino. ‘We would be willing to testify and validate your claims, but the FIA has been excluded from all the Russian authorities’ investigations so far. The safety standards we supposedly signed off for the Autodrom have been branded as part of the problem.’
‘I was thinking of something more strategic, Mr President,’ said Straker. ‘You could send a very clear political message.’
‘Like what?’
‘Officially withdraw the Russian Grand Prix from the calendar – from any venue – until justice is done. Withdrawing international endorsement would attract significant attention to the internal corruption within Russia and help swing the balance of public opinion.’
‘I will certainly consider doing that,’ San Marino replied. ‘If you’re sure that doing so wouldn’t just inflame the situation?’
‘It would be helpful to know that we might have such a potential move in reserve, if needed.’
San Marino nodded.
‘There's also something that could benefit Remy Sabatino's case.’
‘Go on.’
‘Even if there ends up being no change in the outcome, the FIA could at least announce a review of the ruling against her in Montreal. Any doubt expressed on that finding would surely lessen some of its negative impact on the trial.’
Straker left the Mannerheim Suite, his blood boiling at the political straits Ptarmigan now found itself in. He took the lift down to the ground floor and headed out into the bright Helsinki morning. He was desperate for some fresh air and the chance to think. Striding along the pavement of the Norra Esplanaden, he saw a patch of green opposite and made his way into the park. Straker breathed deeply, trying to cleanse himself of his anger. After some time he was ready to ring Quartano's office in London.
His PA answered the call: ‘I’m sorry, Colonel Straker,’ she said. ‘Mr Quartano asked me, specifically, to tell you he's in conference with the foreign secretary and can’t be disturbed – not even for the Moscow situation. He will speak to you as soon as he is out. What time would suit you?’
