Dead Men Living

“Immediately,” said Vitali Novikov. “Everything’s fixed.”

“Full citizenship … residency permission …?” groped Kurshin.

“Everything.”

“But you never said … talked about it,” complained the local homicide detective. “I would have expected …?”

“You know how many times I applied before. I thought I’d be refused again,” said the doctor, close to the truth.

It was midafternoon in the mortuary laboratory and Kurshin had already consumed one flask of vodka, squinting to focus and to understand. Befuddled, he said, “You’ll be gone! Forever!”

“I shall miss you, too, old friend.”

Kurshin came awkwardly forward, arms outstretched, and the two men bear-hugged. Novikov felt his boyhood friend shaking.

Kurshin said, “A farewell drink?”

“Of course,” accepted Novikov. “Several.” He had a lot to celebrate. Everything, in fact.

31

“A total waste of time, in fact?” judged Gerald Williams, wearily predictable, the moment Charlie stopped talking.

“No,” denied Charlie. “There was no way of our knowing, until I’d spoken to all three, what there might have been. Which made it essential that I come back to do it.” Charlie, who’d never had to hold up a wetted finger to gauge which way the wind was blowing, discerned a changed attitude in everyone in the conference room. During the last confrontation, only days ago, Sir Rupert Dean himself had intervened to remind the constant attacker that he’d ordered the withdrawal.

“And having spoken to them, you learned nothing!”

“No.” Charlie was forced to admit.

“So there hasn’t been the slightest step forward?” persisted the committed finance director.

Because Williams’s attitude was so predictable, Charlie had withheld Sir Peter Mason’s alternative theory about a second officer, to which the fat man’s reaction was for the first time slower.

It was the director-general who said, “That would certainly be a total rejection of any Russian claim. Put us in the driving seat, perhaps?”

“More than that,” encouraged Charlie, who’d prepared his second presentation during the drive back to London more interested in the maximum benefit than in its absolute accuracy. “As I’ve already told you, I believe the accusation of a second British officer is what’s being threatened by the Russians. If we, in advance-today, even-made the demand for a Russian explanation, we’d completely preempt them.” He’d only spent a few minutes- five at the most-with Sir Rupert Dean before coming into the conference room, but it had been enough to detect the man’s misgivings at previously allowing so much to be withheld from the people now ranged around the table against him. It was therefore the director-general-upon whom above all others his future in Moscow depended-that Charlie was the most anxious to convince or reassure. Or both.

“Unless they know more about another officer than we do,” countered Patrick Pacey. “In which case we’d be admitting a spying mission in advance of being accused of it.” The political officer shook his head. “It’s too risky a strategy and there’s a lot of other people who’d agree with me, I’m sure.”

“Which brings us back, as we are always brought back, to how little has been achieved during this entire mishandled investigation,” Williams said.

“The opinion is not mine,” conceded Charlie, unhappy at what sounded like an excuse. “It was suggested, most strongly, by Sir Peter Mason. Who was the permanent secretary to the Foreign Office.”

“A long time ago,” deflated Pacey. “The Cold War eyeball-to-eyeball confrontations are things of the past.”

“Perhaps unfortunately, as far as our future is concerned,” remarked Jeremy Simpson. “I accept all the political arguments, butspeaking as a lawyer there’s a lot in the cliche of attack being the best form of defense.”

Charlie at once saw the opportunity further to allay the director-general’s discomfort. “Sir Peter also insisted that it is impossible-his word-for Simon Norrington’s records to have disappeared. According to him it’s an inviolable Whitehall regulation that everything is transferred to Kew. Even if something is withheld for reasons of sensitivity, the fact that it is being withheld is publicly noted.”

“Are you suggesting there’s been positive obstruction?” demanded Dean, sharply.

What everyone else would believe to be outrage Charlie recognized as the man’s relief at his committee having belatedly put in front of them a lot of what he and Charlie had earlier kept to themselves. “I’m telling you the opinion of someone who knows the system,” Charlie said, following the older man’s lead. So unproductive had the interviews with the three men been that the latitude Dean had allowed did seem pointless now. It irked Charlie to have to agree, even only to himself, with Gerald Williams’s assessment.

“It’s most definitely something to be raised at the next meeting of the Intelligence Committee,” acknowledged the political officer.

“If it is positively being withheld or has been destroyed against the government’s procedural rules, then there is something extremely serious to hide,” the deputy director-general, Jocelyn Hamilton, began to warn.

Before he could continue, the finance director quickly intruded, “Which means there is a very severe embarrassment. And that we can’t risk demanding explanations from Russia. So here we are again, in a full circle and back to where we began. Precisely nowhere, with nothing.”

Charlie realized he very definitely wasn’t getting the support he’d become used to, especially from Jeremy Simpson. He wondered if Dean was going to pick up on the suggestion of internal obstruction by pointing out how disastrously failure could affect the future of the entire department, but when no guidance came, Charlie decided against putting it forward himself. Instead, deciding it might be an occasion to keep his head as low as possible behind the parapet, Charlie said, “Wouldn’t we still be able to get an indication of thatby posing the question at the next combined meeting of the involved agencies?”

“Presenting yourself as our representative at Downing Street now?” goaded Williams, overeager.

“No,” rejected Charlie, at once. “Presenting myself as the field officer most directly involved and therefore most in need of positive guidance.”

“You’ve already been given all the positive guidance that should be necessary,” came in Hamilton, aggressively. “You’re surely not suggesting obstruction from us!”

Oh, to have had sufficient proof to reply as he’d like to have, thought Charlie, looking directly at Gerald Williams. He said, “Of course not. I’m simply reflecting the views of a highly experienced civil servant who found what I told him inexplicable.” Enough, Charlie determined: if the director-general wasn’t going to present the doubt outright, then Charlie certainly shouldn’t. The conclusion had to be that Dean had changed his mind.

Hamilton said, “Don’t we have another problem to consider? What are we to do about Sir Matthew Norrington’s ultimatum?”

“With just ten days of it to go, the first thing to accept, here and now, is that there’s no chance whatsoever of our being able to meet it,” suggested Williams.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the ten days to elapse before conceding it?” questioned Simpson.

“I don’t think there’s any point in wasting any more time,” said Williams. “I propose we start making contingency plans at once.”

“An excellent idea,” enthused Simpson, happy for his antipathy to show at last toward the financial director. “Let’s hear what yours are, Gerald, so that we can talk them through to get ideas of our own.”

“I’m suggesting the need for serious discussion, not offering formulated proposals.” Williams flushed. “It’s only been an hour since we’ve been told of the ultimatum.” A staged pause. “And that our part of the investigation is totally stalemated.”