“They’d lost contact with him after the Soviet group moved down here.”
“What was the message?”
“They wanted to know the time and place. Of what, I don’t know. Maybe it had to do with the hijackings. Maybe they killed him.”
“It would be unlike the Chapmans to eliminate a useful conduit for information. And I doubt Vatutin would have been a threat. One word from Archie and his own people would have sent him to Siberia. Still, it may put an end to the hijacking investigation. One less thing to worry about.”
“You don’t think Archie capable of murdering Vatutin?”
“Capable?” Flack said. “Certainly. But I know how he works. He wouldn’t show up outside of his own turf and commit murder. Too obvious, too visible. He’d hire it out. Easy enough to pay someone to watch for Vatutin and do away with him. But not while Archie is within spitting distance.”
“That makes sense,” I had to admit.
“Yes. Now tell me, did you ever witness an argument between Lieutenant Kazimierz and Captain Vatutin?”
“No.”
“Nothing unpleasant at all?”
“No. We met him at the embassy. He gave us food and drink and was a cordial host.”
“On the night of the opera, when Lieutenant Kazimierz threatened Captain Sidorov? Called him a butcher, and said he’d pay for what he’d done?”
“Is that what Inspector Scutt told you?” I knew I should have kept my answer to one word.
“He told me he’d be happy to never see another Russian opera. Now please answer my question.”
“It was a deliberate provocation. Scutt must’ve told you about the opera.”
“So it did happen, as I said?”
“Exactly as you said,” Kaz said, seeing I was reluctant to admit the truth.
“And were you drunk-sorry, tipsy-that night as well?”
“No. Quite sober,” Kaz said. “I did my drinking later.”
“After the film, a Soviet diplomat was beaten within an inch of his life as he walked in the park. Can you tell me anything about that?”
“No. I went back to the Dorchester and stayed there.”
“I can vouch for that,” I said.
“You can say with certainty that he never left? Would you have heard him leave? I understand the rooms you occupy are quite spacious.” Flack sat with his pencil poised over a blank page.
“I didn’t stay up all night watching him,” I said. “What, do you think he went out in the middle of the night on the chance he’d find a Russian taking a midnight stroll?”
“What I think, Lieutenant Boyle, is that all this started with one murdered Russian. Murdered in such a way as to suggest Polish involvement. Then threats against Captain Sidorov, followed by the savage beating of another Russian, and a second murder right here. Eddie Miller, found stabbed outside the Rubens, after you, Lieutenant Boyle, discover he is working for the Russians and tell Lieutenant Kazimierz. To top it all off, Captain Sidorov has now completely disappeared; he’s not in his quarters or any of the pubs. Three, maybe four people come to harm, and Lieutenant Kazimierz has been involved, to one degree or another, with each one. Inspector Scutt tells me the Soviet ambassador is throwing a fit, and so are the Foreign Office, and the home secretary. All that turmoil rolls right downhill to me, courtesy of Inspector Scutt. So rather than take a chance on this continuing any further, I hereby place you under arrest, Lieutenant Kazimierz, on suspicion of murder.”
“You can’t do that,” I said, standing up.
“Sit down,” Flack said, and I did, knowing he had to win this one. “I can and could do much more, being here at the invitation of the War Office. For now, it’s suspicion. Be thankful for that much.”
“Thankful?” Kaz said. “I’m under arrest for a crime I did not commit, and I should be thankful?”
“Yes. Since this crime took place in a secure military area, the Official Secrets Act applies. I could put you away for two years without trial if I didn’t like an answer you gave me. So yes, be thankful.”
“Billy,” Kaz said. “You must find Sidorov. If they think I killed him too…” He put his head in his hands and was quiet. Flack nodded to the constable, who led Kaz out of the room.
“I had to do it,” Flack said, after the door closed.
“Do you think he did it? Any of it?”
“He could have. Any one of them. The desire for revenge can be powerful.”
“In the heat of the moment, yes. But four, or even three?”
“Not for me to say. All I know is that those in exalted positions are demanding the case be solved. An arrest is progress, and he’s our only suspect.”
“Yeah, the Poles make great sacrificial lambs. Can I go now?”
Flack sighed. “Of course,” he said, nodding to the constable, who opened the door. His face held the weariness of cops everywhere who have heard it all. The protestations of innocence, the certainty that a friend, brother, lover could not possibly have done it. I felt the impossibility of communicating that to another human being who had not shared the terror, heartbreak, and friendship Kaz and I had. Flack had his job to do, and to him, Kaz was a legitimate suspect, and I could appreciate the logic in putting him on ice for a while. Still, I didn’t feel like cutting him any slack.
“You done with the crime scene?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m waiting for the preliminary medical report now. Take a look, not that there is much to see. That path is well trodden, and between the rains, the sentry, the two of you, the constable, and the victim, there’s not much in the way of discernible footprints.”
Flack was right. The path was hard-packed dirt, soaked from last night’s rain. The grass around it had been heavily trampled. A deep rust-colored stain showed where the head had lain. The stone was gone, but there were plenty like it strewn about. A five-foot stone wall, one of many encircling the castle and the outer buildings, had been hit by a bomb or a shell. Shattered stones were scattered about, and it would have been a simple thing for someone behind Vatutin to reach down, scoop one up, and smash him in the head. He might never have heard it coming.
“Billy,” Bull Dawson called out as he strode toward me. “I just heard. What the hell is going on?”
“Rak Vatutin was murdered last night. Right here,” I said, pointing to the matted grass and bloodstain. “Scotland Yard thinks Kaz did it.”
“Your Polish buddy? Did he?”
“No. I found him here, kneeling beside the corpse. He’d found him a minute before me. But the British government is getting nervous about Russians being found dead or beaten on their turf, so they grabbed the best suspect they had.”
“Jesus, Billy, it’s not just the British. I’ve got a passel of Soviets here who want to call Operation Frantic off. They all think they’re next, and I can’t blame them. With Vatutin dead and Sidorov vanished, they have no secret police to watch them, and I think it makes them more nervous than being watched.”
“Have you contacted their embassy?”
“Had to go through the chain of command. Right up to Ike. It’s in all the papers, he just got back from the States this morning. Some poor bastard’s probably briefing him on the situation right now. It’ll be up to him to decide what to do next. I hope he can salvage this; we’ve put a lot into it.”
“Jesus Christ on the mountain,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“Ike’s favorite curse,” I said. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that Colonel Harding was hearing it right now. I wondered what Big Mike had found out in London. “Did any of the Russians have an idea where Sidorov is?”
“Dead, they all figure. Like Vatutin. And Egorov. What do you think?”
“I think I need to get some sleep,” I said. “I’ve been up all night, I’m tired and hungry, and can’t think beyond a cup of coffee. I’ll be at the Lord Nelson Inn. Let me know if Sidorov turns up, OK? Maybe he made a lady friend last night.”
“He should be so lucky,” Bull said.
I walked to the inn, knowing I had a lot of work in front of me, and although it felt like I was letting Kaz down, I knew I had to get some food and at least a few hours’ shut-eye, otherwise I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Of
