The Silent Oligarch: A Novel by Christopher Morgan Jones Read Free Book Online

it?”
    “Wet and short. But lovely, thank you. Spent most of it pottering about in a bass boat in the drizzle trying to catch mackerel.”
    “Any luck?”
    “Elsa caught six on our first outing. Then nothing. Nancy ate it raw off my penknife. I was amazed.”
    “And how was Turkey?”
    “Hot. Tourna’s a piece of work.”
    “What does he want?”
    They were sitting at a counter in the window. Before he began, Webster instinctively looked around behind him to make sure no one could hear. He leaned in to Hammer a little and spoke softly.
    “Do you know who Konstantin Malin is?”
    “I know he’s come up before. Oil?”
    “Oil. He’s the power behind the throne at the energy ministry. He advises the Kremlin on energy policy—some say he pretty much sets it. And he enforces it. He’s also extremely rich—one of the new breed. A silent oligarch.”
    “What does the minister think about that?” Hammer was a fiddler, a tapper, a chewer of pens. He found it difficult to sit altogether still. Now he was blowing on his coffee to cool it, letting his glasses mist up and then clear, not looking at Webster.
    “I suspect he gets his share, but a fraction of what Malin is taking. He’s been there for decades. He must have served under dozens of ministers.”
    Hammer drank some coffee and watched people pass by on the street, then turned to Webster with a look of fresh concentration.
    “How powerful is he?”
    “A government intimate. For ten years or more, as far as I know, which is very rare. He may be unique. Every case we do in energy he’s there, somewhere. He’s the gray cardinal of the Kremlin.”
    “Who looks after his affairs?”
    “In Russia, I don’t know. A guy called Lock has been his lawyer for fifteen years or so. He manages an Irish company that seems to own most of the assets. And there’s a Russian called Grachev who runs a trading operation in Vienna.”
    Hammer thought for a moment, tapping out a precise rhythm with his thumb and forefinger on the counter. His shirt collar, far too big, hung around his neck like a noose.
    Webster continued. “I know Lock. Or know of him. There’s a joke in Moscow: why did Malin lose all his money? Because it was Locked up.”
    “Hilarious.”
    “It’s a pun. Lock means sucker.”
    After a pause, Hammer said, “Who’s he fallen out with?”
    “Malin? Besides Tourna? There’s an ex-employee who looks interesting. No obvious animus. There must be a few Russians who don’t like him, inside the Kremlin and out. Otherwise I don’t know. As far as I can see there’s no litigation we might follow.”
    “That’s interesting.”
    “It is?”
    “And what does Tourna want?”
    Webster told him. The fall of Malin.
    “Is that all?” Hammer sat back and thought, tapping on the rim of his cup with his thumbs. “Did you discuss fees?”
    “No. I told him I’d need to speak to you first about whether we do the work.”
    Hammer frowned. “Why wouldn’t we?”
    “Because being seen to work for Tourna is grubby. I don’t mind that but you might. But the main thing is, Malin’s a real player. He’ll have his own security people, good ones, and he has a lot to lose.”
    “What’s the worst he might do?”
    “Set his people on us, rake muck, make life difficult, especially in Russia. Revoke my visa, which would be a pain.”
    “Will he shoot you?”
    Webster laughed. “No, I shouldn’t think so. They tend not to kill Westerners. But thanks.”
    “What about our sources in Russia?”
    “I think the same applies. If Malin gets wind of us, and he will, he’ll disrupt life for them, maybe put them out of business. But we may not need to do that much in Russia. If Malin’s vulnerable it’ll be offshore somewhere. Perhaps in his past, but I doubt it.”
    Hammer folded his arms and beamed at Webster. “This is juicy, isn’t it? Have you had any thoughts?”
    “God yes. My head’s spinning with ideas. For once I need you to keep me in