Brian Freemantle - No Time for Heroes

Got you! thought Danilov triumphantly: old ways, old reasoning. Just like they’d miscalculated how to – or not to – set up the Ignatov case. Beside him Pavin came close to a physically separating movement, which didn’t offend Danilov. The repeated cough was to attract attention more than to clear his throat and he stood, matching Metkin’s stance. ‘The suggestion there should be an official enquiry was mine,’ he reminded. ‘And its sentence upon anyone found guilty of negligence or misconduct should be as severe as possible, under both the law and internal regulations…’ The pause was entirely self-indulgent, Danilov savouring the moment. ‘But it can’t be internal, within the Militia. This is a joint investigation, between America and Russia. And now we can’t proceed with a murder prosecution. Which we have to announce not just privately to the Americans but publicly, because of the international publicity that has been generated. To satisfy the Americans and the public in general of our official integrity and professional ability, any enquiry must be entirely independent of the Militia…’ Danilov caught the look Kabalin attempted to exchange with Metkin, who refused to respond. Abruptly another idea came to him, which gave a gap for Oskin to break in.

‘I don’t think there is any doubt of the need for a fuller hearing,’ began the Deputy Interior Minister briskly. ‘I propose this meeting be adjourned for more detailed consideration of all the points that have been raised…’

‘Not all the points have been raised!’ interrupted Danilov, annoyed at himself for allowing the intrusion. ‘This meeting has already been adjourned once today: I have not yet been able to answer the accusation I was brought here to explain…’ It had broken the sequence he was trying to present, making his case more disjointed than Metkin’s. Talking directly to the deputy, Danilov said: ‘The independence of a very necessary enquiry will have to be under the aegis of the Interior Ministry, at least. With officials of other ministries co-opted…’ He chanced the slightest of pauses, thinking of another bombshell he could lob, unreal though he knew the concept to be. ‘Possibly, even, including American participation: full exchange of evidence and findings at least…’

Metkin did answer Kabalin’s look at last: the colour was beginning to seep into the Director’s face.

He’d risked insubordination, thought Danilov: could he get away with arrogance as well? ‘An essential remit of any enquiry must be the attitude of Mikhail Antipov…’ They weren’t going to cut him off: they were frowning, but in interest, not irritation any longer. ‘… You have all seen the transcripts of the interrogations of this man: entirely pointless, unproductive questioning… Why? Why has a man – a man arrested by senior Colonel Kabalin – remained contemptuous and patronising, knowing, because I told him at the first interview, that his fingerprints were on the murder weapon: knowing a conviction that carries the death penalty was inevitable? That’s inexplicable, even for a hardened criminal like Mikhail Pavlovich Antipov…’

‘… This is unfair!’ erupted Kabalin at last. ‘… I am not being given an opportunity to explain…’

Danilov could hardly believe the interruption. More quickly than anyone else, he said: ‘Explain, then!’

Kabalin was even appearing awkward. He’d half risen, but not completed the movement; now he was neither sitting nor standing but at a crouch, as if he were about to run. Danilov guessed the other man would have probably liked to do just that.

Kabalin said: ‘There is a clear inference being made, entirely unsubstantiated by any fact. I reject it!’

This time Smolin got in first. ‘What inference?’

‘That in some way Antipov learned from me the gun would never be produced.’

‘Did he?’ asked Oskin directly.

‘No!’

‘Something that may be possible to prove, either way,’ reentered Danilov, abandoning any reservation on how far he might go. ‘Antipov was due to be questioned again today, although long before now. That interview, like all the others, will be fully recorded. He would suspect something if I wasn’t the person who accompanied the American. How much would his attitude change if I told him his protectors – his protectors, not naming anyone – had failed to dispose of the gun…’

‘This is preposterous!’ exploded Metkin. ‘I am being accused -!’

‘You’ve already been accused, by me!’ Danilov shot back. To the three men sitting in judgement, he said: ‘Let me be accompanied by a ministry official, to authenticate everything that occurs: everything that will also be authenticated quite separately by the tape recording.’

‘The entire thing could be twisted!’ persisted Metkin.

‘Like other things have already been twisted,’ scored Danilov.

‘It would not be independent!’ said Kabalin.

‘Would you accept my independent integrity?’ demanded Smolin.

‘You!’ blinked Metkin.

‘If I were the official present at today’s interview? And I conducted it, and were the person to announce to the man that the gun hadn’t been disposed of?’

‘Of course,’ mumbled Metkin, with no choice.

Smolin had been identified as an honest man by Lapinsk, remembered Danilov.

‘Then it is settled,’ said Oskin.

Not yet, thought Danilov urgently. ‘There are other factors to be considered. Apart from myself and Major Pavin, only three other people were authorised to know the combination of the evidence safe. One, obviously, was the Director. The second was senior Colonel Kabalin. The third was his scene-of-crime officer, Major Aleksei Raina…’

‘This is intolerable!’ tried Metkin again. The man was extremely red-faced now, seemingly finding it difficult to remain still. Beside him Kabalin remained ashen, looking nervously from speaker to speaker.

‘It is a factor to be considered,’ judged Vorobie.

The communications register, remembered Danilov. ‘It is possible someone else might be able to help in the enquiry. There is still the matter of falsified documents.’

‘What falsified documents?’ demanded Metkin.

Uninvited, Danilov crossed to the table where the forgotten dossiers lay, allowing himself the briefest of checks before smiling up, satisfied, at the signature he wanted to find. He picked the register up and carried it to where the three men sat, putting it open at the relevant pages in front of them. Alongside, he set his nightly maintained photocopies. ‘The duplicates are the true record. The memorandum ordering Major Pavin to seal the scene of the crime, and those between the Director and Colonel Kabalin, have been added subsequently and the entire numbering sequence, referencing and indexing also changed, to cover their attempt to discredit…’

‘… Ridiculous!’ blustered Metkin, aware for the first time there was an accurate record. Groping desperately, he said: ‘Why should he have made a copy, other than to protect himself from the justifiable charge that he and his assistant failed to obey my orders!’

Danilov let the other man’s question hang in the air. ‘If I intended altering the communications register, why would I have made copies showing the message as not on file but let the originals remain? That just doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t I have removed them and had the dossier falsified my way to erase all traces?’

‘You knew I’d have my secretarial copy!’ said Metkin, unthinking now in his panic. ‘That’s how I’ve exposed you!’

‘Then there would have been no purpose in my trying to change anything in the first place, would there?’ deflated Danilov. He was supremely sure of himself at last, confident he was beyond any further attack. He returned to the officials, ‘It’s the system that any document received and put into any record is signed for, as a receipt. You’ll see the signature on all the disputed slips is that of my secretary, Ludmilla Radsic. I would suggest her evidence, of how – and when – they came to be in the register would form an important part of whatever enquiry is set up.’