West.”
“I don’t think they should wait at all!’ said Natalia, looking more fully around the chief of staffs office.”Let’s use the media and the Yakutsk stupidity. Recall our people, having completed their investigation, and let them announce their regret at the body being held and prevented from a civilized burial. Match it with a statement from here, formally asking why that proper burial is being prevented of someone obviously the victim of a terrible crime. Yakutsk will be caught, whichever way they respond. If they return the body, they’ll be complying with our demand. If they don’t, a proper burial there will also be what we demanded ….” She looked at the deputy interior minister.”Don’t you agree that publicly we would appear to be in control either way?”
“I suppose so. Perhaps,” conceded Viskov, reluctantly.
“It sounds good to me,” said Mikhail Suslov.
“I can’t see a problem with it, either,” said Nikulin. “In fact, I think it’s something we should do ….” Pointedly addressing her, the presidential aide said. “And I think it is something that you should do personally, Natalia Nikandrova. Brief Colonel Lestov and prepare our announcement from here.”
Travin was white-faced, staring accusingly at Viskov, who still refused to answer the look.
Carefully trying to judge a safe contribution to the discussion, the deputy foreign minister said, “What do we know about this Englishman’s story of wartime mysteries?”
Travin shifted, the attention back upon him. “Colonel Lestov was only with him and the American woman for about two hours before they flew out. It was the woman who gave them a resume of what he’d said but not any explanation-any facts-to support it.”
“So we
As I have been from the beginning, acknowledged Natalia, finally. Charlie would tell her all she needed to know, to answer all the questions, but most importantly to defend herself-themselves-from any internal attack, within the ministry. Refusing to give up on Travin, she said, “You brought them officially together, as a group. Will there be sufficient cooperation?”
Imagining an escape, Travin said, “I don’t believe there’s been a lot of exchange so far. I found the Englishman belligerent: obstructive. The impression in Yakutsk has been that he’s ineffective.”
Charlie’s favorite chameleon color, Natalia recognized. “Let’s hope you’re wrong.”
“What do we know about him?” asked Nikulin, abruptly.
Natalia felt the first jump of concern. Quickly she said, “He was posted here by agreement, about a year after the official assignment of FBI representation, to cooperate on organized crime-”
“And was largely responsible for the breaking up of a nuclear smuggling incident involving Natalia Nikandrova’s previous deputy,” came in Viskov, accusingly.
“And other government officials,” fought back Natalia.
“He’s here by our permission, like the FBI?” queried Nikulin.
“Yes,” agreed Viskov.
“Then I don’t see that we have a problem,” said the presidential adviser, going to the deputy foreign minister. “If there isn’t a full exchange, we tell his government to withdraw him.”
How much more impossible was it all going to get? Natalia wondered.
The man traveling on the State Department plane with Kenton Peters lay Charlie Muffin’s file aside and said, “Ornery son-of-a-bitch.” There was a strong Texan accent.
“Who did the Agency a lot of harm in the past,” reminded Peters.
“You want it to be an accident? Or obvious?” The operational name on the passport was Henry Packer. It was his own idea of a joke to describe himself as a pipeline specialist on his visa.
“I haven’t decided yet. At the moment you’re just getting sight of the rabbit.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Does it matter one way or the other?”
“No,” said Packer. “Just want to provide maximum satisfaction. I aim to please as well as aim straight.
That was another joke, but Peters didn’t smile.
15
It was what Muscovites call a Napoleon Day, the dawn sun burning from a cloudless sky to set fire to Moscow’s near-deserted streets as they really had been torched to drive out the briefly occupying French emperor. Charlie hoped it wasn’t an omen. The Americans had transportation-a van large enough for both coffins-at Domodedovo airport and Charlie continued to impose, actually being driven first and direct to the river-bordering Morisa Toreza. He parted from Miriam Bell in the British embassy forecourt with promises to talk later in the day.
“Make sure you do,” insisted the woman. Saul Freeman barely waved.
The embassy watchman complained he hadn’t been warned about the arrival of a corpse and wasn’t sure about storage because he hadn’t had to deal with a dead body since his posting. The man couldn’t find a cart and he and Charlie needed several stops staggering with the coffin between them to the canteen’s walk-in refrigeratorin the basement. The watchman said the chef wouldn’t like it and Charlie agreed he probably wouldn’t and promised to take the blame.
“You’ve got a rotten job,” remarked the man.
Charlie said he knew. The night duty officer at the embassy switchboard was dozing when Charlie walked in, snuffling awake at Charlie’s greeting. It only took Charlie minutes to discover what he wanted in the London telephone directory and he smiled at something proving easy for a change.
Everything in his hutchlike officer was filmed with dust. The paper plane prototype he’d been working on lay forgotten under the desk: the cleaners had obviously forgotten the room altogether. There were three demands for immediate contact from Sir Rupert Dean on his voice mail, the last at ten the previous night. Charlie put messages on theirs for McDowell, the military attache and Cartright, telling them he was back.
So clear was everything in his mind that it only took Charlie an hour to write what he intended telling London at that stage, which wasn’t everything. There was, for example, no mention whatsoever of Vitali Maksimovich Novikov, only of Gulag 98. It was still only six-thirty when he made his way familiarly to the cipher room for his findings to be encoded, satisfied that because of the time difference it would reach London to coincide with Sir Rupert Dean’s arrival for his normal day.
Charlie guessed he had about half an hour. Natalia answered on the first ring. “Good to hear your voice.”
“My telephone was tapped.”
Natalia smiled bleakly to herself. “I guessed there was a reason.”
“How’s Sasha?”
“Missing you.”
“How about you?”
“Don’t ask a silly question.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“She’s still asleep. She wondered what you were doing on television.”
“A lot of people did. And still do. You all right?” He thought she sounded subdued.
“There’s another problem, to go with all the others.”
“Serious?”
“Could be. Depends how I handle it.”
“Connected with this?”
“People seeing an advantage in it.”
“Who’s ahead at the moment?”
“I think I am.”
“We’ll keep it that way.”
Natalia smiled again, warmed by the confidence. “I saw both television transmissions. It looked
