Throughout the day the attitudes toward Charlie Muffin ebbed and flowed. Initially, after his Nazi-secret declaration, the criticism and accusations had been virtually unanimous, determinedly led by an inwardly very satisfied Gerald Williams, totally supported by the deputy director-general. A lot of the condemnation became muted-or stopped altogether-after the second TV transmission of the hotel parking lot interview with Colonel Vadim Lestov.
Dean said, “We don’t know enough to reach any conclusion or judgment.”
“And whose fault is that?” demanded the finance director. “Muffin was repeatedly told-
“Made sense, though, to see and hear what the Moscow detective said, didn’t it?” sighed Jeremy Simpson, the legal adviser. “Muffinalso told the Moscow embassy his phone was tapped. Seems a good enough reason for saying nothing.”
“He said a lot
“Which remains the problem,” agreed Patrick Pacey, knowing the political thinking from having attended the cabinet Intelligence and Security Committee meeting at Downing Street with the director-general. “The last thing the government wants is reminders of Germany’s wartime past, now that we’re European partners. Or having one of our people sitting beside the Yakutsk leader like that, publicly associated with an anti-Russian attack.”
“Made worse by drawing attention to the sort of place Yakutskaya was,” persisted Gerald Williams. “I can’t imagine Russia wants that raked over. From whichever way we look at it, Muffin has put us-this department-in an appalling situation.”
“One, in fact, that we’ve already agreed we had to do everything to avoid, with our whole future so uncertain,” endorsed Hamilton. “There might be an explanation of sorts, but I’ll need a lot to convince me it was justified.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” argued the bald, mustached lawyer. “Quite obviously there were a lot of local problems we don’t yet know anything about. The Moscow detective went out of his way to
“I think the enormous publicity is unfortunate,” said Pacey, echoing another concern from the earlier Downing Street crisis meeting. “There’d been no public announcement of our being officially allowed to have a man in Moscow. The inference that Russia needs Western help to fight its crime isn’t something we wanted to become too obvious.”
“Which it didn’t. And hasn’t,” insisted Dean, forcefully. “It’s entirely acceptable that someone from the UK- whose department was never identified-should have been in Yakutsk looking into the murder of a British officer, whenever the killing occurred. It was never stated that Charlie was based in Moscow or that he had any intelligence agency background. You inferred it was said, because you
Pacey flushed, caught out. “No,” he remembered. “It wasn’t, was it?”
Williams felt a further fray in what he’d been so sure was the noose from which Charlie was at last going to dangle. He said, “With anyone else, it would not be necessary for us to be having this discussion: having to defend ourselves, cap in hand, in Downing Street! If this department becomes subsidiary to all those willing and eager to take over our traditional role, it will be dated back to this episode.” The finance director looked to the required records taker. “None of us will be here in a year’s time for us to be reminded of the warning I’ve just given.”
“If, on the other hand, we were all here-and I called for a transcript of what you’ve said all day-you’d be shown to be an absolute fool, wouldn’t you Gerald?” said Simpson. He stroked the drooping mustache. “And I will. There! You’ve got a whole year to work out an explanation for being so wrong.”
“I don’t want this to become personal,” warned Sir Rupert Dean.
“Unfortunately-and usually unfairly-it’s always been personal between Charlie Muffin and Gerald,” said Simpson.
“Every complaint and every warning about this man has been justified by what’s happened,” insisted Williams. “It’s no pleasure for me to have been proven right.”
“You haven’t been,” said Simpson. “Not yet.”
“When’s our first chance to speak to him properly?” asked Hamilton.
“Tomorrow morning,” said Dean.
“Every conceivable thing that could have gone wrong has gone wrong,” insisted Gerald Williams, desperate for the last convincing word.
At that moment Natalia was entering the Russian analysis meeting thinking exactly the same thing. She also suspected her personal survival could be at risk. She hoped she hadn’t miscalculated as she believed her opposition had. It wouldn’t take her long to find out.
“Outrageous!” declared Dmitri Nikulin. “Internationally we have been made to look ridiculous by a tinpot quasi republic still living in the Stone Age. How? Tell me how!”
The head of the presidential secretariat talked directly to Natalia, who in turn looked to Petr Travin beside her. She said, “My deputyhas had all the operational dealings today. Unfortunately, there hasn’t apparently been time for him to advise me.”
Travin had three times claimed he was too occupied talking direct to Yakutsk to give her an account of what was happening, an open challenge to her authority. She knew the man wouldn’t have attempted that without the backing of the deputy interior minister, Viktor Viskov, who sat opposite, fixed-faced, studiously avoiding the man he’d personally appointed to be her deputy and his spy. If this was their chosen moment for a coup, they’d mistimed it.
This afternoon’s meeting had initially been scheduled for the following day, which would possibly have given them the opportunity to complete whatever they were manipulating. But Nikulin’s unexpected decision to bring it forward gave her the most influential audience in front of which to fight, turning Travin’s evasion back upon the man by insisting-in memoranda to the president’s chief of staff-that Travin attend to explain his lack of contact. And bringing the meeting so abruptly and unexpectedly forward hinted the intervention of the president himself, which she guessed to be the main reason for Viskov’s discomfort. From his implacable silence she decided presidential pressure was also the inference drawn by the deputy foreign minister, Mikhail Suslov, the fifth person in Nikulin’s office.
Nikulin frowned between Natalia and her deputy and then said to Travin, “What’s going on here?”
“It’s been very difficult … bad communications,” stumbled Travin, losing his usual smooth-mannered control. “From what I understand, there was no warning, no agreement, to meet the press. The Westerners imagined they were only going to see the chief minister, possibly the Executive Council. We were specifically excluded.”
Charlie had looked trapped, Natalia remembered. Why hadn’t he called? She would have been so much better prepared if they’d talked. It was like trying to walk blindfolded in the dark, but she was sure there was some high ground she could gain if war had been openly declared. She said, “Colonel Lestov was my choice and I think he’s proved to be a good one. He made the whole episode, which I accept we still have properly to have explained, appear the mistake-the stupidity-of the Yakutsk authorities ….” She looked directly atTravin again. “He talked on television of our demanding an explanation. What did he say to you about that?”
“We didn’t go into that,” said her deputy, uneasily. “At the moment there’s some difficulty about the release of the body they believe to be that of a Russian woman. The Americans and the English are on their way back with their nationals.”
Natalia avoided any surprised reaction to the news of Charlie’s return. “Our pathologist has conducted her own autopsy, hasn’t she?” she persisted, not allowing Travin any relief.
“As far as I understand it, yes,” said the man.
“Don’t you know?” demanded Nikulin, exasperated.
“Yes,” blurted Travin.
“What about everything else? Is there anything more for them to do there?” demanded Natalia.
“I don’t … I thought they should wait, to bring the body back. To avoid it appearing that they weren’t in control. The media are still there. You’ve seen the headlines in our own press. I gather it’s much more in the
