Brian Freemantle - Dead Men Living

“The obvious first essential,” encouraged Nikulin. “It’s difficult from what we’ve received so far to judge what it is that we might be investigating.”

“It will have to be officers from here,” pressed Viskov, still looking at Natalia. “I think we should hear your thoughts, Natalia Nikandrova.”

The invitation should have come from the presidential adviser, gauged Natalia. The cadaverous man didn’t appear offended.

“We can of course do that,” said Natalia. “But Yakutskaya has a great deal of autonomy. Have we been asked-invited-to take over whatever investigation is going on there?” She had to remain focused, not allow any private distractions. Why now, this soon? she thought, in familiar litany. Why ever?

Suslov was one of the new, not-yet-forty, university-educated Russian reformers impatient for changes too long promised. He nodded approvingly at the woman’s political awareness. “Not in as many words. It’s inferred, from the very fact of our being informed. It’s a good qualification, Natalia Nikandrova.”

Not the praise of someone involved in a plot before her arrival, Natalia thought, relieved. Deciding the diplomatic road the one to take, she said, “So at the moment we have no right even to go there. I don’t consider we can proceed on the basis of inference.”

“It’s a valid point,” congratulated Nikulin. “We have to ensure our participation is officially requested.”

“And that cooperation is guaranteed,” persisted Natalia. “It would be unfortunate if investigators from here were blamed for mistakes not of their making.” She allowed her mind briefly to go sideways. An investigation seemingly involving a murdered Englishman: without question Charlie’s sort of crime, according to the remit of his posting. So added to the danger of their living together was now going to be the constant conflict of interest she’d determined not to allow. She felt constricted, as if a band were physically tightening around her chest. She’d be hopelessly compromised if they were discovered; it scarcely mattered anymore whether they were occupying the same apartment or not. Her dismissal and his expulsion would be inevitable. And she’d meant what she’d said about being a true Russian with a Russian’s umbilical link to her country. Abandoning it to go to live in London really would be the ultimate, unthinkable sacrifice. She supposed it came down to how much she loved Charlie. Maybe more. Maybe it was how much she truly felt she could trust him.

There wasn’t actually an expression, but Viskov’s features had tightened at apparently being outargued. “I’m not suggesting we go uninvited. But to believe we won’t be is naive ….” He paused, yet again addressing Natalia more than Nikulin. “Which I find surprising for someone whose paramount function is properly considering the political implications of criminal investigations. Perhaps, for that reason, it should be her deputy-who is, after all, a trained investigator in his own right-who supervises everything on a day-to-day basis.”

Colonel Petr Pavlovich Travin had been Viskov’s personal choice, appointed without any reference to her, the most positive indication of an intended, almost old-time purge. Natalia said, “And I, in turn, am surprised that Viktor Romanovich, a politician, considers the political implications-surely the reason for this initial meeting-to be secondary. They are, in my opinion, no way secondary. They are the first priority ….” She hesitated, abruptly aware of another, so far unrealized practical difficulty, just as quickly recognizing how to overcome it at the same time as hopefully defusing Viskov’s attack. “Of course, the proper Russian investigatory team is of the utmost importance. And of course my deputy shall have day-to-day responsibility.”

She saw the tightness go from Viskov’s face at his imagining he had won the exchange.

Nikulin appeared aware of the tension between them and said, “I think we’ve sufficiently covered that point. Every indication is that it’s a wartime situation. Do we have any archival records of American or British presence there?”

“What archival records?” demanded Suslov, who sometimes overstressed his contempt for the Communist past. “Russia has no accurate history for the past seventy years. Not in any ministry file or, I wouldn’t think, any intelligence or militia agency. Everything has been sanitized and corrected and improved, after every event, for each decision and action to be shown to be the right one.”

There was momentary silence both at the cynicism and the outburst.

“But checks are being made in the Foreign Ministry?” persisted Nikulin.

One of Suslov’s advisers came quickly forward, whispering in the deputy minister’s ear. Suslov frowned, regretting the apparent prompt. “Yes.”

“And also through the records of my ministry,” offered Viskov, anxious to recover. “If this does escalate, it’s important that everything is seen to have been done properly, in the correct order.”

“Quite so.” Nikulin smiled bleakly.

“Which was surely what we agreed at my suggestion a few moments ago,” capped Natalia. “Which brings us to the next political consideration. What do we do about London and Washington?”

“Should we do anything, this early?” questioned Viskov, following Nikulin’s lead of seeking an opinion rather than advancing one.

“Let’s take the worst scenario, that an American and an English officer were murdered, together with a Russian woman,” suggested Nikulin. “It would have happened too long ago for that in itself to be a difficulty for the present government, whatever the circumstances of their being in what was, during and after the war, a closed-to-outsiders Stalin gulag complex. Our concentration has got to be how we handle it now. It’s essential we appear totally open, with nothing to hide. And we don’t have anything to hide ….” The thin man hesitated, nodding in private agreement with himself. “It is going to be a difficult crime to solve, after such a long time. Almostcertainly impossible. There’ll be mistakes. Problems. What’s important is keeping us beyond all criticism for those problems ….” He paused in further reflection. “It would help if they turned out to be spies, of course.”

Natalia listened intently, frowning, anxious to anticipate the point toward which the presidential adviser was moving.

“We have an extremely backward but volatile republic, suspicious of foreigners-with perhaps the exception of Canada, with which they have some joint ventures-with Russia at the top of the hate list. They’re going to resent the need for us to be involved, maybe even intentionally make it awkward for whoever we send there ….” The man paused, at a moment of rare commitment. “We need insurance. And I think that insurance could very definitely be to involve London and Washington at this stage. To go as far as inviting them to send investigators at the same time as we send ours ….”

Logically-inevitably-that would be Charlie, Natalia accepted once more. What would Charlie’s insurance be? It would have to be her if they were to survive together, Natalia admitted. So much for avoiding a conflict of interest. She’d still try to avoid it happening, for as long as possible.

“At the same time?” echoed Viskov, rhetorically, wanting Nikulin to recognize his understanding of what the man was saying.

Nikulin gave another bleak smile, unoffended at the interruption. “Problems-difficulties-of an investigation by their own people into a fifty-year-old murder of an Englishman and an American would be their problems and difficulties, not ours, wouldn’t they?”

“Absolutely!” agreed Suslov, smiling, too.