crowded the pavements. At a nearby taxi stand a line of yellow Ladas was waiting. Ben hustled over to the car at the head of the queue and got in the back seat. Tatyana piled in after him.
‘Speak English?’ Ben asked the driver.
‘Sure.’
‘Just drive. And step on it.’ Ben thrust a sheaf of rubles through the gap between the seats, where they disappeared instantly into the driver’s clutches.
‘Twenty years I waited for someone to say that,’ the driver said, gunning his engine with a grin. As the little Lada took off into the traffic, Ben turned to glance out of the window and caught a momentary glimpse of the two goons running out of the subway station and looking around in a panic for their disappearing targets. Then they were lost among the crowds.
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