Brian Freemantle - The Bearpit

‘How?’

‘Last night. Late. Used my own key.’

‘What if they’ve checked the registration number?’

‘They haven’t,’ insisted Panchenko. ‘I opened the file drawer and read everything they’d done so far. There was just a ballistics test and the confirmation that the prints upon the butt were those of Agayans. At the moment, apart from Malik’s intervention, this is still being treated as a suicide witnessed by me: not a crime that needs any deep investigation.’

‘What’s the explanation for the gun disappearing if Malik presses the investigation?’

‘Not ours to provide,’ said Panchenko easily. ‘Forensic sign a receipt for exhibits: theirs is the responsibility for loss. And I shall be the person called in to investigate.’ The man’s head came up and Kazin revised his impression of defeat: now Panchenko’s movement appeared almost triumphant.

‘I think you’re safe there,’ conceded Kazin. ‘Nothing could link it with you.’

‘Us,’ corrected Panchenko pointedly. ‘Link it with us.’

Kazin had wondered how long it would be in coming. The anger fired through him but he gave no outward sign: now was most definitely not the time to confront the man and put him in his place with the reminder of his previous crimes. ‘Us,’ Kazin agreed. Then he said: ‘What happened when the others came into the bedroom?’

‘I’m sure the bed concealed what I was doing; it had to be the most natural thing in the world to be kneeling over the body of a prisoner who had just killed himself!’ said Panchenko, with the renewed confidence of his explanation for retrieving the gun. ‘And there was a lot of confusion, jostling, in the doorway.’

‘What about Agayans’ shout?’

For the first time Panchenko looked across the car and in the uncertain light Kazin was conscious of the man nodding his head in acknowledgement of another weakness being isolated. Panchenko said: ‘I had to improvise again here, of course. Agayans wouldn’t be shouting “No!” if he were killing himself.’

‘But the rest of the squad would surely have heard it?’

‘Unquestionably,’ accepted Panchenko. ‘But the corridor has an angled bend. And I’d pushed-to the bedroom door. I gambled on what they heard being blurred, indistinct. As they came in I said: “I shouted to him not to do it but I couldn’t get to him in time.”’

‘And they accepted it was you?’

‘There was no challenge,’ replied Panchenko. ‘The instinct of men trained militarily is to accept the explanation of a superior officer.’

‘Which leaves the uncertainty of whether or not Chernov was aware of any conversation between you and Agayans at the beginning of the corridor,’ reminded Kazin.

‘I tried to allow for that, too,’ said Panchenko. ‘I let Malik extend the interrogation while I tried to work out how to cover Chernov hearing what was said. It was the best I could think of at the time: I said when he realized I was coming to the bedroom with him Agayans insisted on getting dressed in privacy.’

‘And Malik accepted that?’

‘No,’ conceded Panchenko. ‘He accused me of bad policing. But that’s all it is: bad policing. Agayans and I talked softly. We’ve got to take the chance of Chernov realizing a conversation took place but not hearing Afghanistan being mentioned…’ The hesitation was intentional. ‘Or your name.’

Kazin understood the pause. Like he understood the security colonel using the plural ‘we’. He let both go, like the earlier threat. He said: ‘What have you done?’

‘I had Chernov submit a report. Insisted it should be complete.’

‘And?’

‘He makes no reference at all to the corridor conversation. And attributes the shout in the bedroom to me.’

‘The rest of the squad?’

‘The same.’

Not bad, admitted Kazin. Far better, in fact, than he had expected from the earlier panicked telephone call from the man. Kazin said: ‘Anything else that might be challenged?’

Panchenko considered the question and said: ‘Malik kept making demands about timekeeping. I had to say I only went to Agayans’ bedroom when I became concerned about the amount of time he had been in there. So I had to create a time gap greater than really occurred. I said it was ten minutes from the time Agayans left the room, before I went in: it wasn’t more than a minute or two.

Searching for the dangers, Kazin said: ‘There’s one thing missing. How did Malik discover what was going on in Afghanistan, to be able to stop it, as he did?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Panchenko.

‘Wasn’t there any indication at all where his information came from?’

‘Nothing.’

A brilliant intelligence officer, remembered Kazin: that had been the assessment of Malik when they had graduated together from the training academy while his had only been commended. He said: ‘What about the son in Afghanistan, Yuri Vasilivich? Did Malik mention him?’

‘Not once.’

Still too much he didn’t know, thought Kazin irritably. He said: ‘There’s to be an inquiry, at Malik’s demand.’

‘I’ve already received a witness summons.’

Like I have, thought Kazin. He said: ‘I want a tight rein kept on the others who formed the squad with you that night. They’re to inform you if they are questioned: particularly if they’re questioned by Malik.’

‘It is regulations anyway that they do so.’

‘Reinforce it,’ insisted Kazin. ‘The only danger is what Chernov might have overheard.’

‘I don’t see how I can avoid being accused of negligence by the inquiry,’ said Panchenko.

Kazin sought for a reassuring response but couldn’t think of one. So he said: ‘No, neither do I.’

‘It will not be good, so soon after promotion.’

‘Better than accusations of other things,’ said Kazin at last.

Panchenko met threat with threat. ‘You’ll support me? It’s important I know you’ll support me.’

With no alternative Kazin said: ‘Of course I’ll support you.’

‘I’m glad,’ continued Panchenko, maintaining the pressure, ‘After all any problem for me will be a problem for you, won’t it?’

‘Yes,’ conceded Kazin, mouth a tight line. ‘It can’t be otherwise.’

Kazin recognized that with Panchenko he had created a potentially difficult problem for himself. Kazin revised, too, his earlier impression of sweated uncertainty in the man. At times as they talked Kazin believed he’d detected in the colonel an almost overconfident belief – conceit even – that there was some sort of equal partnership between them. For the moment it was an impression for Panchenko to be allowed. But some way would have to be found of dispensing with the man. Kazin said: ‘Maintain tonight’s account and I do not foresee any difficulty for us. Reprimand, perhaps. But that’s all.’

‘I would rather not be reprimanded at all: not be summoned before an inquiry at all.’

Neither would I, thought Kazin. He felt a burn of frustration at the awareness that his already weak position was being further eroded while Malik’s was strengthening. He’d tried to mount his attack too soon, without proper thought. To the colonel he said: ‘Beware of Vasili Dmitrevich Malik. He’s a bad enemy to have.’

‘So am I,’ said Panchenko, bombastic as before.

And as such you will always be taunted and goaded, thought Kazin. Determined upon every precaution, he said: ‘Post everyone in that squad as far away from Moscow as possible. And as soon as it’s practicable to do so.’

There had been no indication in the recall messages to Kabul exactly what Yuri was expected to do upon his return to Moscow: where he was to live, for instance. Uncertainly, he called his father from Sheremet’yevo airport and was surprised by the apparent eagerness with which the older man greeted him, ordering him at once to Kutuzovsky Prospekt.