Later that evening Beesely took Otto and Johno to one side.
‘Now, gentlemen, we have a new addition to the family. Or should I say that you have a new addition. I will not live many more years, and when I’m gone young Thomas will be your responsibility.’ He wagged a finger. ‘The boy is in our care because his mother’s blood is on our hands.’
Johno looked as if he was about to say something, but got cut off by a pointed finger.
‘Now listen well. I screwed up my attempts to be a father, I did not do a very good job. You, gentlemen, will have to do better than I managed, which should not be so difficult.’ He pointed at Otto. ‘You will not spoil him –’
‘Spoil?’ Otto queried.
‘You will try and raise him just like a normal boy, if that is indeed possible given this dysfunctional family and what we do for a living. Understand? He will not be given too much, he will not be treated like a prince. Otto, I want his English to improve. Quickly! Then arrange a tutor for him, make sure he keeps up with his lessons.’
Beesely turned his head a few degrees. ‘Johno! No beer, no porn, no girls, no swearing around the kid.’
Johno looked at his shoes.
‘Besides that, I want you to teach him weapons handling -’ Johno lifted his head. ‘- straight away. Survival, escape and evasion, it might keep the kid alive longer. Teach him how to shoot and how to kill, and how to spot the bad men. Teach him how to look over his shoulder and how to look under a car before he sits in it.
‘Otto, teach him how to climb and how to ski. Teach him languages, and educate him about how the world really works. Consider this, gentlemen, your greatest challenge yet. And it won’t just be the boy learning - it will be you two. Johno, you’ve never married or had any kids, not that we know about anyway. This will be good for you, women like single fathers with cute kids. It will give you an element of … respectability.’ He wagged an accusing finger. ‘You will make an effort to spend time with him. Pick him up from sports and drop him off, don’t just send a guard for him. You, Otto, will help him with his studies, not just rely on a tutor. You, Johno, will rise early when the boy needs it. And not hung over!’
He took a breath. ‘It would be nice, gentlemen, if I could go to my grave knowing that my boys will do the kind of parenting that I never did.’
4
Six hours after Vladimir had put the word out, and ten hours after Rudenson had landed in Moscow, the elusive German lay tied up, being rushed across Moscow in the back of a police car, its siren wailing.
It would not have been a bad journey normally, certainly not one to cause injury, save for this being Moscow, and any fast and long car journey obviously involved Moscow roads, not known for their smooth surfaces and good maintenance.
By time they arrived at Vladimir’s dilapidated apartment block Rudenson had been sick onto the already bloodstained seat. With his arms tied behind his back, Vladimir’s men dragged their prisoner unceremoniously by the elbows up the steps and into the lift, depositing him onto the lounge’s hard marble floor, making the apartment’s owner a very happy, and very rich, man.
* * *
‘They have him,’ Otto calmly reported.
Beesely glanced at Johno. ‘Endgame.’ Turning back to Otto he instructed, ‘Arrange the doctors. Let our man in Moscow know about Endgame.’