thousand rubles. Be careful with it.”
“Does this mean that you don't want to tell me anything?” “Yes.”
“I see.” The detective pushed a button. “You'll have to be held until this is cleared up.”
A gangly policeman with a long face and droopy nose appeared at the door. In the Ukraine, people like him are described as “tall but still bends.”
“Gayevoy?” the detective looked at him uncertainly. “Aren't any of the guards around?”
'They're all out in the field, comrade captain,” he replied. “A lot of them are at the beaches, maintaining law and order.” “Do you have a car?” “A small GAZ.”
“Convey the detained suspect to the city jail. It's too bad you refuse to help yourself and us, citizen. You're just making it worse for yourself.”
The lab assistant turned in the doorway. “And it's too bad that you think Krivoshein is dead.” “One of those characters who likes to make a grand exit. Always have the last word.” Onisimov chuckled. “I've seen plenty like him. But he'll come round after a while.”
Matvei Apollonovich lit a cigarette and drummed his fingers on the desk. At first all the clues (faked papers, medical testimony, circumstances) led him to think that the assistant, if he wasn't the killer, was at least actively involved in Krivoshein's death. But this conversation had changed his mind. Not what the suspect had said, but how. He did not sense in him the forethought, the game playing, that fatal game playing that gives away the criminal long before there is any evidence.
“It is looking like an unpremeditated murder. He said himself, 1 don't know if it was me or not. But what about the skeleton? How did it happen? And did it happen? And what about the attempt to pass himself off as Krivoshein by using a theoretical explanation? Is he faking? And what if the absence of game playing is just the most subtle game of all? No, where would such a young, inexperienced fellow develop that? And then, what motives are there for a premeditated murder? What was going on between them? And what about the forged documents?”
Matvei Apollonovich's mind hit a dead end. “All right, let's look into the circumstances.” He stood up and looked out into the hall. Assistant Professor Hilobok was pacing up and down.
“Please come in! I asked you here, comrade Hilobok, to — “
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Hilobok nodded. “Others experience tragedy, and I clean up the messes. People do die of old age, and may God grant us both such ends, Matvei Apollonovich, eh? But Krivoshein never did anything the way everyone else did. No, no, I'm sorry for him. Don't think… it's always a pity when a man dies, right? But Valentin Vasilyevich had caused me so many problems in the past. And all because he was a stubborn character, with no respect for anyone, no consideration, diverging from the collective time and time again.”
“I see. But I would like to ascertain what it was Krivoshein was doing in that lab that was under his jurisdiction. Since you are the scientific secretary, I thought — “
“I just knew you'd ask!” Harry Haritonovich smiled happily. “I even brought along a copy of the thematic plans with me, naturally.” He rustled the papers in his briefcase. “Here it is, theme 152, specific goals — research on NIR, title — 'The self — organization of complex electronic systems with an integral introduction of information/ contents of the work — 'Research on the possibilities of self — organization of complex system into a more complex one with an integral (not differentiated according to signals and symbols) introduction of varying information by adding a superstructure of its output to the system/ financing — here's the budget, nature of the work — mathematical, logical, and experimental, director of the project — engineer V. V. Krivoshein, executor, the same — “ “What was the gist of his research?”
'The gist? Hmmm.” Hilobok's face grew serious. “The self — organization of systems… so that a machine could build itself, understand? They're doing intensive work on this in America. Very. In the USA — “
“And what was Krivoshein actually doing?” “Actually…. He proposed a new approach to forming these systems through… integralization. No, self — organization. It's just not clear if he managed to do anything with it or not.” Harry Haritonovich smiled broadly and winningly. “You know, Matvei Apollonovich, there are so many projects at the institute, and I have to look into all of them. I just can't keep everything straight in my mind. You would be better off reading the minutes of the academic council's meeting.” “You mean, he reported on his work to the academic council?” “Of course! All our projects are considered before they are incorporated into the plan. After all, how could we distribute funds without any factual basis?” “What was his basis?”
“What do you mean?” The scientific secretary raised his eyebrows. “His idea regarding the new approach to the problem of self — organization? You're best off reading the minutes, Matvei Apollonovich.” He sighed. “It all happened a year ago, and we have meetings and debates and commissions every week, if not more frequently. Can you imagine? And I have to be present at every one, organize the speakers, speak myself, issue invitations. For instance, right now, I have to go from here to the Society on Distribution, where there's a meeting on the question of attracting scientific personnel to lecture at collective farms during harvest. I won't even have time for lunch. I can't wait for my vacation!”
“I see. But the academic council approved his topic?”
“Of course! There were many who argued against it. Ah, you should have heard how crudely Valentin Vasilyevich answered them. It was totally unforgivable. Poor Professor Voltampernov had to be tranquilized afterward. Can you imagine? The board recommended that Krivoshein be reprimanded for his rudeness, I wrote out the decree myself. But the topic was passed, of course. A man proposes new ideas, a new approach — why shouldn't he try it? That's the way it is in science. And besides, Arkady Arkadievich himself supported him. Arkady Arkadievich is a wonderfully generous soul; in fact he set him up in his own lab because Krivoshein could never get along with anybody. Of course, the lab was a joke, unstructured with a staff of one… but the academic council had discussed the situation and voted yes. I voted for it myself.”
“What was the it you all voted for?” Onisimov wiped his brow with a handkerchief.
“What do you mean? To include it in the plan, to allot funds for it. You know, planning is the basis of our society.”
“I see. Tell me, Harry Haritonovich, what do you think happened?”
“Hmmm… I must make it clear to you, my dear Matvei Apollonovich, that I would have no way of knowing. I'm the scientific secretary; all my work is paperwork. They've been working together just the two of them since last winter. The lab assistant is the one who would know. Besides, he's an eyewitness.”
“Did you know that the assistant is not who he says he is?” Onisimov demanded. “He's not Kravets and he's not a student.”
“Really? That's why you arrested him, I see.” Hilobok's eyes grew round. “No, really, how would I know? That was an oversight in personnel. Who is he?”
“We'll find out. So you say the Americans are doing the same kind of work now?”
“Yes. So you think he's the one?”
“Why be so hasty?” Onisimov laughed. “I'm just exploring all the possibilities.” He glanced over at the paper with the questions. 'Tell me, Harry Haritonovich, did you notice psychiatric problems in Krivoshein?”
Hilobok smiled.
“You know, on my way over here, I was debating whether or not I should mention it. Maybe it's a trifle and there's no point? But since you ask… he had these lapses. I remember, last July, when I was combining my duties with heading the laboratory of experimental setups — we couldn't find the right specialist to run it — we needed a candidate of science — so I was doing it — so that we wouldn't lose the slot for the position, because, you know, they can take away the allocation, and then you can never get it back. That's the way it is. And so, just a while back, my laboratory received a request from Krivoshein to prepare a new system for encephalographic biopotential sensors, like that SEP — 1, Monomakh's Crown, that you have on your desk, but of a more complex construction, so that it would fit in with all kinds of his schemes. Why they ever accepted the order from him, instead of doing their own work, I'll never know.”
This submersion in scientific data brought on a deep drowsiness in Matvei Apollonovich. Usually he cut through any tangential deviation from the topic that interested him in an interrogation, but now — he was a man with a Russian soul — he could not overcome his innate respect for science, for learned titles, terms, and situations. He had always had this respect, and after his last case at the institute when he also learned the salaries of scientific workers his respect had doubled. And so Matvei Apollonovich did not try to stem Harry Haritonovich's free — flowing mouth; after all, he was dealing with a man whose salary was more than twice his own, as a police captain, and legal at that.
