“This approach your idea or Peters, via Saul?”
“Mine.” She waited for her trout to be served. Not looking at him-squirting lemon onto her fish-she said, “You think that scrap left in the trouser band label is enough to identify your guy?”
Charlie laughed outright. “Why didn’t you call me a sneaky bastard?”
“I just have. I wanted to choose my time to trade.”
“What’ve you got?”
“A photograph. Or rather a piece of a photograph, like it’s been cut in half because he didn’t want the other piece. He’s in uniform, in front of a building that could be a bank or a college: it’s very big. He’s with a girl. She’s maybe thirty. Blond. There’s nothing written on it to say who she is or where it was taken.”
“You make a copy before it went to Washington?”
“I back up everything,” negotiated Miriam. “I have your word about the trouser label?”
“My word,” promised Charlie.
Miriam took the copy from her purse and slid it across the table to him, with the supposed duplicate of her Yakutsk report to Washington. Charlie pocketed the envelope but studied the picture for several moments before putting that away.
“You think there’s enough of the background for your people to identify?”
“They hope so.”
“I watched you pretty carefully when you went through the clothes,” said Charlie, curiously.
“Like I watched you,” reminded Miriam. She put her hand to her waist. “There was a small pocket, just here. For tickets or small change, I guess. The picture must have been important to him. It was all by itself in a little plastic wallet.”
“Anything else?”
“You were right about the spectacles, which you can see he’s wearing in the photograph. According to our laboratory guys in Washington, he suffered severe astigmatism: particularly bad unequal cornea curvature. Whatever he did or knew, he was in uniform for a very special reason.”
“What about the tweezers and the magnifying glass?”
“Tweezers are medical. There’s no maker’s mark, which is a bastard, but our forensic guys think the magnifying glass was custom-made by optical specialists.”
They both finished eating at the same time and for several momentslooked steadily at each other across the table.
Miriam said, “You want to call it a draw?”
Charlie didn’t want to admit but had to. “Okay.”
“We got a deal?”
“That won’t be enough, will it?”
“How so?”
“What about Lestov and the Russians? And Yakutsk, for that matter. It was Polyakov who made the finding of the bodies public in the first place, through Canada.”
“And got badly burned doing it,” said Miriam. “For Russia to be a problem, it’ll have to be something forensic. Lestov got nothing from the woman’s body that we didn’t see.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” She smiled.
“He could have been lying.”
“He wasn’t.”
And if he had been it wouldn’t matter, acknowledged Charlie. Because Natalia would tell him. He was edging toward his favorite position, right in the middle of the spider’s web, with everything coming in his direction. Richard Cartright’s interest in Natalia’s sister still had the irritation of an untrapped fly, though.
Throughout the lunch, to which Henry Packer had followed Miriam undetected from the embassy, the man had sat at the bar watching them, drinking mineral water. And had seen the woman pass an envelope and what looked like a piece of a photograph to the man he had to kill. Which was all he had to do, Packer reminded himself. It wasn’t his business what they were exchanging. They were supposed to be cooperating, according to the meeting he’d sat in on. Peters was an asshole, imagining there could be any problems from that shambling hayrick, whatever the man’s file said. There was only one professional between himself and Charlie Muffin, and Packer knew he was it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long to prove it.
Colonel Vadim Leonidovich Lestov hid his apprehension well and had it not been for her earlier training and debriefing expertise it might have taken Natalia longer to recognize it. But he’d arrived nervously fifteen minutes early-giving Natalia the advantage she hadn’t expected-and phrased everything he initially said defensively.It took several minutes for the stutter to subside. Natalia used every psychological trick she could remember to calm the man, intent upon getting whatever she could for what was to follow. And when it came-knowing that Charlie didn’t have it but realizing at once how it could be used-she felt a warm spread of satisfaction. At once she realized that it would destroy what Charlie was trying to achieve, but that was inevitable now. At least she would be able to tell him.
“You’re sure?” she insisted.
“Absolutely,” said the man. “Both uniforms were still at the mortuary when Lev Fyodorovich carried out his preliminary forensic examination in what passed there as a laboratory. I counted, specifically. They were both complete.”
“That’s very important.” Charlie had talked about wandering away from the grave before the forensic search had finished, looking for traces of Gulag 98. He’d be annoyed with himself; more than annoyed. He was always furious at personal mistakes.
“It was a forensic discovery. I don’t consider I did as well as was expected,” apologized the fresh-faced man. He was wearing the same shined-by-use suit of their first meeting.
Natalia said, “You did brilliantly. Far better than could have been expected, under the circumstances. You recovered completely from what was intended as a huge embarrassment ….” She hesitated, caught by an idea. “In fact, this afternoon’s meeting has been expanded, for what you did to be properly recognized.” Could it be that she was becoming as devious as Charlie?
When Natalia told him who the additional officials would be, Lestov said doubtfully, “There must be other, more important reasons.”
“The worldwide publicity has escalated everything,” Natalia pointed out, easily. “And there’s been some misunderstandings. Nothing, though, to do with you.”
“Because of what happened, there wasn’t any chance for me to discuss anything with the American or the Englishman, apart from his saying he’d made up what he said at the press conference-”
“Did you believe him?” broke in Natalia, recognizing again how perfectly what she’d just learned fit everything else. There was, she thought, such a thing as coincidence. Or was it luck?
“I do believe he had no warning of the media: the American was adamant neither of them knew. It was very quick-witted of him.”
Which Charlie was, among so many other things, Natalia thought. And which she had to be in the coming hours. She said, “I’ve got my own ideas about that, particularly after what you’ve just told me.”
“I wish I understood more,” admitted Lestov.
“I’m beginning to,” said Natalia.
It continued far better than Natalia could have hoped. Everyone except her deputy was already waiting when she led the homicide detective into the Interior Ministry conference room and she was halfway through the introductions before Petr Travin flustered in. He got halfway through, “Security told me …” before seeing Lestov.
“The colonel arrived early,” picked up Natalia. “It gave me the opportunity personally to congratulate him, as I am sure the rest of you would like to do.”
She was pleased by the confusion. Petr Travin looked to the deputy interior minister for guidance and Mikhail Suslov, from the Foreign Ministry, deferred to Dmitri Nikulin. The president’s representative told Lestov, “You came out well from what could have been a very embarrassing situation for us. So yes, congratulations are in order.”
“Which is why I am proposing an official commendation,” said Natalia, looking at Viskov. “You’d support that, wouldn’t you, Deputy Minister?”
Viskov was totally wrong-footed. “I thought … yes, I suppose. Of course.”
“A lot, I would have thought,” Viskov came back, eagerly.
“Indeed,” agreed Natalia, anxious to orchestrate as much as possible. “But surely we need logically to keep to the original agenda and hear first what Colonel Lestov has to tell us?” She felt confidently relaxed, although properly so: sure of her strengths-of being stronger, in fact, than she’d imagined-but not complacent. Viskov and his puppet might not have played their full hand yet, although she believed they had.
“That was the original intention of the meeting,” reminded Nikulin.
This afternoon’s success or failure depended, ultimately, on the presidential aide: his were the attitudes and nuances she had most accurately to gauge, above all others. She already knew those of her immediate superior and her intended replacement. Everyone else were unsuspecting spectators.
“Of course,” agreed Viskov, at once.
Uncertain, assessed Natalia at once: good. She said, “Perhaps, Colonel, you’d go through again what we’ve already discussed?” aware of Travin’s face tightening at having missed out on the preliminary account.
Calmed by that rehearsal and buoyed by an official commendation, Lestov spoke virtually without stammering, the hesitations appearing to be more pauses to move from one episode to another than an impediment. It was only when the man had been speaking for several minutes that Natalia remembered everyone but herself was hearing the Yakutsk story in full for the first time and that what she was listening to amounted to the final preparation for her own performance. Her concentration was absolute upon her two attackers, alert for anything and everything. Their absorption, in turn, was entirely upon the homicide officer, ignoring her. If they were that attentive, anxious for something more, maybe they had shown their full hand.
Everything depended upon how she played hers. The slightest miscalculation, intruding too soon, before the detective finished, risked confusion, which could deflect her counterattack. But if she waited until Lestov completely finished, the danger was Viskov or Travin realizing the significance of the homicide detective’s revelation and possibly outmaneuvering her before she outmaneuvered them. Or was there that danger? She had heard it-or almost all of it-before. Been able to analyze it-even listened to Charlie analyze it, talked it through with him step by step as she’d demanded he do. No one would be able to respond as quickly as she was tensed to. Certainly not Viskov or Travin, whose determination to topple her she was increasingly coming to think-although still not complacently-exceeded their conspiring ability. The right moment-the most effective, destructive moment-would be at the very end. Which again she could anticipate.
Natalia pounced the moment it came. “Everything we’ve heard totally justifies the commendation we’ve already agreed,” she declared.“And from what we’ve heard, it also justifies the Lubyanka inquiry ….”She looked directly at the deputy interior minister. “I’m personally sorry you don’t seem to have agreed to its need …?” She stopped, invitingly. Come on, she thought. Jump into the gaping hole.
Once more there was confusion throughout the room. Nikulin said, “I think we all might benefit from a detailed explanation.”
The president’s official was cautious, Natalia gauged: ready to change sides. “I am afraid there was a regrettable misunderstanding-one that’s easily resolved-between myself and the archival staff at the Lubyanka,” said Natalia. “And I take full responsibility for that. But I did not ask for the entire records of Yakutskaya. That would-”
“Your memorandum-” Travin tried to stop.
“Does not ask for that,” stopped Natalia, in turn. “Read it, more thoroughly than you appear to have done so far …”
There was concerted movement as everyone except Lestov went to their dossiers. The homicide colonel looked curiously at her. Natalia smiled back. Her stomach was churning.
“There can be no other conclusion-especially with your suggestions on how a necessary staff can be assembled and the work routines established-than that you intended every record to be withdrawn,” insisted Viskov, triumphantly.
“My first instruction to my deputy, yesterday, asks for-and I quote-‘a daily summary, as well as a detailed assessment, of the total number of camps that existed around Yakutsk.’ And even more specifically for any that might have held particular prisoners ….”
“That’s true,” said Nikulin. “That’s what it quite clearly says!”
The man was taking his escape with her, decided Natalia, relieved. If this was indeed a battle, then Nikulin was her reinforcement. More than that. Nikulin was the man who had to award the victory laurel. Natalia hesitated. She might be acquiring Charlie’s deviousness, but she wasn’t sure she could manage his final them-or-me killer instinct. Yes, she could, Natalia decided at once. There was Sasha-always Sasha.
Color began to suffuse Viskov’s face. “The memorandum is contradictory.”
“I don’t consider it is,” refused Natalia, directly addressing the presidential chief of staff. “At worst the request to the archives istoo general. It could have been resolved by a simple telephone call to me, from either the deputy minister or my deputy. My deputy could, in fact, have simply walked along our linking corridor. Neither chose to talk to me. Instead, from the correspondence that has been exchanged today, it would appear there has been a positive attempt to undermine my authority. And by suspending what I had already initiated, an investigation that has the president’s personal interest has been seriously delayed, possibly even jeopardized.”
Natalia stopped, pleased with her concluding reference to the president, which had only come to her as she talked and identified her unquestionably with Dmitri Nikulin. Committed, she accepted. In the middle of the battlefield, openly wielding her two-edged sword, with no retreat. There was a strange comparison between the two men she was confronting, Viskov’s face bulged and purple, outraged veins pumping in his forehead, Travin ashen in his awareness that he was indeed caught up in a war zone.
“I’m not at all sure what this dispute is all about or how it involves me or my department,” complained Mikhail Suslov, easing himself as far away as he could from the firing.
Wonderful! thought Natalia. “You are one of the most involved,” she told the deputy foreign minister. “There was always the need to look for foreign prisoners in the Yakutsk camps, which is why I suggested it. And why, by proposing the staffing I did, it could be completed as quickly as possible, certainly not over a period of six months, as has been ridiculously claimed. You’ve just heard from Colonel Lestov that our forensic examination of the grave uncovered a Western uniform button ….”
Natalia’s pause was intentional, concentrating their attention. “You also heard from Colonel Lestov that the buttons on the uniforms of both the dead English and American lieutenants were complete …”
It was the newly confident Lestov who finished for her.
“Which can only mean that there was another Westerner present during the murders … perhaps someone in or on his way to a nearby camp ….” The man hesitated. “Or actually involved with the murders.”
The detective’s statement shocked the room into total silence. Natalia sat happy for it to continue, for the awareness fully to settle,only breaking it when she saw Nikulin move to speak. To Viskov, she demanded. “Now do you still oppose the limited Lubyanka search?”
“It wasn’t properly explained,” protested Viskov. He was flustered now, sweating, a lost man.
Almost there, thought Natalia. “I wasn’t asked for an explanation … it seemed more important to denigrate the proposal, and me along with it. Which is astonishing, considering the Englishman’s press conference remark about the obviousness of a connection with the area itself ….”
Natalia paused once more, hoping for a questioning interruption, although she was prepared to bulldoze on. But the question did come, from Nikulin. “You think he-maybe th
e American as well-knows there was a second Westerner there at the time?”
“I haven’t been told yet by my deputy what has come from either the English or the Americans,” said Natalia, looking demandingly at Travin. She knew Charlie was withholding even an edited account until after this connived challenge. What they hadn’t anticipated was that it would come so soon. And now, Natalia thought, Charlie’s eventual offering couldn’t be as edited as he’d intended.
“There has not yet been any exchange,” said Travin, trapped.
“When did you ask for something?” pressed Natalia. “You’ll have logged your request, of course?”
“I was waiting for the return of Colonel Lestov,” tried Travin, desperately.
There was another long silence, which again Natalia ended. Soft-voiced in apparent disbelief, she said, “They’ve been back for two days!”
Travin looked fervently for help from Viskov. The deputy minister ignored him. Travin said, “I have been too busy following your other instructions.”
“But you haven’t!” rejected Natalia, louder now in outrage. “I initiated Lubyanka. Nothing arrived until today …” She feigned the sudden awareness of Suslov and the homicide detective before looking to Nikulin. “I don’t consider this is the time or place to continue this conversation. But I do think it should be continued …”
“I totally agree,” said Nikulin.
Charlie was sitting with Sasha on his lap, watching her permitted thirty minutes of English language cartoon, when Natalia got back to Lesnaya.
“Well?” he asked.
“I won,” declared Natalia. “But they know a second officer was there at the murder.”
“Oh, shit!” said Charlie, unthinking.
Sasha said, “What’s ‘shit’ mean?”
“Maybe I could have done better,” conceded Novikov. “I hadn’t expected everything to end like that, so quickly. I wasn’t properly prepared.”
“He seemed a good man,” allowed Marina. “Did he promise to help?”
“He told me to call,” said the doctor, fingering the pasteboard on the table between them.
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