She didn’t alter her expression.
‘That may be difficult. He has a very attentive harem.’
‘“Many hands make light work.”’
Kroll looked up from his laptop. ‘What?’
‘English proverb. Go back to work.’
Omorova spread out the files and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll skip to the highlights. He’s fifty-four, a sixty a day smoker and despite tennis twice a week is not fit. Don’t expect him to do anything physical like scale a wall or run very far. He’s nervy, pushy and impatient. He won’t be taking kindly to being held but values his life and is not physically fearless. He uses a lot of cocaine so you can expect him to be wired — or strung out if he’s separated from his stash. Could be helpful to give him a top-up if you’ve got time before you lift him. He’s also a control freak who hates to be driven. He used to pilot himself everywhere before he did a hard landing in Ghana and ripped the undercarriage off his Falcon.’
‘Is he likely to have loved ones with him?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting choice of words. He’s got a second wife in rehab and at least two mistresses, one here in Moscow, another who was in Tehran.’
‘Could be with him?’
‘Maybe. She’s Austrian. Kristen. I don’t have her cup size.’
‘I’ll use my imagination.’
‘Put it this way, he’s never been over-attentive to any of them. The first wife was kidnapped. .’
‘And?’
‘He didn’t pay.’
‘What was the demand?’
‘A million dollars.’
‘Cheap. What happened to her?’
‘Never seen again.’
‘Okay, I’m getting the picture now. Where is he based?’
‘Apart from his Moscow house on the Arbat and a dacha in Peredelkino, he’s based himself in Iran for the last ten years. And as a Tajik, he gets by in Farsi and has taken full advantage of Iran’s non-aligned status, smoothing access to some of his more — unconventional clients.’
‘By which you mean terrorists. Tell me about his background.’
‘Russian passport. Only son of a Tajik assembly worker and seamstress mother. Father worked in the Togliatti Lada plant until an injury put him on crutches. They devoted their lives to his advancement. He’s had no contact with them for twenty years but funds all their care.’
‘Anything about his time in the air force?’
‘Undistinguished. Mostly a tender pilot, passed over for combat training. Always a troublemaker. He was investigated for dealing ammunition to Mujahideen in Kandahar. Unproven, but it was generally accepted that he was guilty. No long-term friends, no attachments to any causes or other individuals. He’s believed to have fathered at least three children, none of whom he recognises as his own. He lives for his business. He negotiates harder and longer than anyone else, and when a client can’t meet his prices he takes a stake in whatever land or mineral reserves might be going. In fact his property and oil earnings exceed his arms trading, according to our estimates. He’s so off the grid it’s hard to say, but he’s probably Russia’s richest man.’
‘What does he do for security?’
‘It’s all handled by a pair of twins. North Koreans known as Yin and Yang.’
‘Not really?’
‘Really.’ Her perfect mouth tweaked itself into the hint of a smile: the Mona Lisa in Armani. ‘He used to use a gang of Azeri mafia boys, but he caught them with their hands in the till so they had to be “retired”.’ She held up her hands and made a pair of quotation marks with her fingers. ‘Legend has it he did it himself, with a hacksaw — as a warning to their replacements. The twins have their own posse of Koreans who do the driving and so on.’
‘Were they with him?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s not clear. He certainly counted Al Bashir as a valued customer, so it could be he’d let his guard down, though it would be out of character.’
‘What’s our contact with Al Bashir?’
‘Officially, none.’
‘Meaning?’
‘One officer in our Tehran embassy has kept a line open with them but it’s all gone dead the last fifteen days. Plus we’ve pulled most of our diplomatic staff out of there because of the crisis. The country’s unravelling.’
‘So it’s about arms the PLR wants access to?’
Omorova blinked. ‘Presumably.’
Dima peered at her. ‘You blinked.’
She did a kind of I’m-not-smiling smile, sphinx-like. ‘I do sometimes.’
‘But not until then, when I asked you a question.’
Kroll sighed. ‘Oh come on. Leave the lady alone.’
‘Keep out of this Kroll. She’s a big girl, she doesn’t need your protection.’
Dima raised his fingers from the table. She maintained her smile. They had both been too long in the job to pretend. Dima took a moment to consider. He could make a fuss, demand from Paliov that he be given the full facts. He probably wouldn’t give them. Perhaps Paliov didn’t know them. Omorova and he were doing well so far. It would be a shame to ruin a good rapport. He calculated that she could probably be more help in the long run if he didn’t pressure her.
He leaned forward, glanced round. The Ops Room team had retreated. He fixed his gaze on the woman. ‘Comrade.’ He liked the old nomenclature when it came to people he recognised as allies. ‘Are you saying that’s all you have or that’s all you’re allowed to have?’
‘I’d say the latter.’
‘So if you were my commanding officer, what would your advice be?’
She looked at him like a woman who didn’t always get the respect she deserved, but was getting it now.
She blinked — differently this time, a little more slowly. ‘Watch your back, at all times.’
She stood up and gestured at the files she’d brought. ‘You want these?’
He shook his head. ‘Can I reach you if I need more? Information, that is.’