Dead Men Living

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 the 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.

“When will you?”

“Soon. When this business with the woman’s body is settled. Polyakov realizes he’s been outsmarted. Still might try something.”

“Do you think the Englishman believed you had more?”

“I’ll hint what it is when we talk.”

“He’s definitely working to an agenda of his own,” complained Peters. His hair was too long for sea trips, blowing disordered around his face. Hurriedly he pulled on a sailing cap.

“It hardly matters,” Boyce pointed out, at the helm. “Whatever he keeps back from your woman, you get from me. Just as you get whatever our other departments contribute. We can’t be caught out.”

“Only by the Russians.”

“They’re not likely to do anything, are they?”

“They’re an uncertainty, and I don’t like uncertainties.”

“Their reaction would be intriguing, if we used Muffin as a diversion.”

“That’s increasingly what I’m thinking.”

“It would have to be an obvious assassination, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Your man ready?”

“Whenever I blow the whistle.”

“Let’s give it a day or two; there’s no urgency. But then make a sensation out of it.”

“Fine.”

“How was Moscow?”

“Appalling!” said Peters. “Dirty, uncomfortable and the ambassador served the most disgusting food I’ve ever eaten. Which I didn’t, hardly.”

“It was good of you to go,” said Boyce, repeating the earlier gratitude.

“Necessary, particularly in view of events,” said Peters. “Have you ever seen Muffin personally?”

“Of course not!” said Boyce, surprised at the question.

“Peculiar man. Looks like a bum. Won’t be any loss at all to your service.”

19

Charlie let Natalia feed and bathe the still-demanding Sasha (“If it’s a silly word, why did you say it?”), needing the escape more than the time. He still used the time, though. It was necessary to rethink. Reevaluate. It had been stupid leaving the grave when he did-downright bloody stupid. Not a disaster-easily recoverable, in fact- but that wasn’t the point. The point was getting everything-getting it all-the first time, and he hadn’t, which was more arrogance, hurt pride, than professional objectivity. So what was professionally objective? London’s secrecy intention-perhaps Washington’s, too-was now at Moscow’s mercy. A major reassessment. But more a diplomatic consideration than his, at operational ground level. What was there at his level? Vadim Lestov hadn’t told all to Miriam. So much for pubic power. Which wasn’t an irrelevant reflection. Told him something about the Russian detective. Had to keep it in mind. What else? Get it all, this time. Which he could. And would. So that wasn’t the point, either. The primary consideration-the sole consideration-was whether Natalia had been as successful as she obviouslybelieved herself to have been. Everything else, for the moment, was secondary.

She accepted the wine he had waiting when she emerged from the bedroom corridor and said, “I told Sasha you’d be along in a minute to say good night.”

That, like so much else, was becoming a ritual he enjoyed. “Of course.”

“I had to tell her what shit meant. She still thought it was silly.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized Charlie.

“Is what Denebin found a major problem?”

Charlie poured himself a second malt and said, “Not even one we’re going to think about yet. First priorities first. You.”

Natalia smiled, knowing the preference might have been difficult, the triumph rehearsed during the homeward