Bayar didn"t smile. Bayar never smiled. Utkin passed the most recent intelligence verbally, as instructed. Bayar nodded. Utkin waited.
"Leave now," said Bayar with a wave of his hand.
Who did this Turkish gangster think he was? Gavrel Utkin was a businessman, a trusted man in Moscow. Why was he made to endure this uncouth Tartar"s bad behaviour?
Utkin walked out into the rain and opened his umbrella. He was not allowed to bring his car and driver. The meetings were always in different locations, always in Turkish cafes, bars or brothels. He didn"t like walking around London. He didn"t enjoy walking at all and he especially didn"t like being unprotected by his staff. But the relief of escaping the penetrating gaze of Bayar made him feel almost happy. The rain wasn"t heavy and the sky was
