Brian Freemantle - No Time for Heroes

Oskin frowned, irritated at the questioning turning upon him. Seeming reluctant, he said: ‘I was officially informed, through the Ministry.’

‘By whom?’ pressed Danilov.

Oskin’s frown deepened, but before he could speak Barazin said: ‘What importance can that have?’

‘I don’t know, not yet,’ said Danilov. He’d made a mistake, trying to get too much, but now he was enmeshed in it.

‘Well?’ demanded Barazin impatiently, but to Oskin.

The Interior Ministry official spoke looking with fixed dislike at the investigator. ‘It was a senior permanent secretary, Konstantin Utkin. Why is that important?’

I don’t know, but I’m sure it is, thought Danilov, the satisfaction stirring through him: Konstantin Vladimirovich Utkin was another of the three unexplained names in the letter Leonid Lapinsk had sent him just before committing suicide.

‘Well?’ repeated Barazin sharply, speaking this time to Danilov.

‘No,’ said Danilov, because he couldn’t explain it, ‘I don’t think it has any significance.’

‘You have untangled a very complicated situation, involving past and present members of the government,’ said Sergei Vorobie, coming into the discussion. ‘But not everyone is involved in a world-ranging conspiracy.’

‘I don’t look upon what we have so far learned as a success,’ said Danilov. ‘We still have three unsolved murders we are sure are connected, and one curious case of a prostitute killed in the same way.’ They couldn’t catch him out on that lie, either. But they would, later, unless he prevented the Chechen publishing the compromising photographs of Cowley with Lena Zurev.

‘Nothing in Mrs Serova’s confession changes the decision already made,’ insisted Vorobie. ‘The government officials who appear to have been involved will be questioned and required to resign. There will be no prosecution.’

Needing the guidance for an uncertain future, Danilov said: ‘There has been an enormous amount of publicity, most of it regrettable. Two murders were in America: two others here attracting a lot of attention. How can they publicly be explained away, without any reference to how they’re linked?’ He should tell them what he’d done: was doing. A later explanation that it was an unresolved part of the enquiry wouldn’t save him if he were wrong. Nothing would save him if he were wrong. So why tell them anything?

‘That’s for us to decide,’ said Oskin briskly.

‘No!’ denied Danilov. ‘Of course I know there is going to be the biggest cover-up possible: I’ve guessed that from the start…’ Which was why, he thought – enjoying the American phrase – he had already, for a variety of reasons, gone so far out on a limb. ‘But how can we persuade the American administration privately, to go along with it?’

‘Far easier than perhaps it will be to satisfy public opinion,’ said Barazin, close to being dismissive. ‘In the case investigated by yourself and Cowley a little over a year ago, there was intense pressure from Washington to allow the mistaken arrest to remain the accepted solution…’

It was brilliant, accepted Danilov, knowing in advance what the diplomatic blackmail would be: absolutely brilliant.

‘… Our most recent psychiatric information, about the man detained here, shows indications of recovery. If that recovery were to continue I, as Justice Minister, would have to consider releasing him. A public explanation would have to be given, of course…’

There would even be such a preliminary psychiatric report, Danilov knew, prepared by a puppet psychiatrist, of which the security authorities of Russia still contained an abundance, from the previous era. ‘Which still isn’t a public explanation for the murders now! This time we don’t conveniently have a mentally deranged man!’

‘Which is why I am taking part in today’s discussion,’ disclosed Barazin. ‘I’ve read everything so far, apart from the woman’s confession. I want your personal assessment of what we’ve got, to compare against our opinions.’

Danilov desperately wished he’d had time to think through his answer, to avoid leaving himself exposed. Cautiously, he said: ‘In Italy I indicated to Zimin we’d reach an agreement, in return for his giving evidence here. The man knows Mikhail Antipov is guilty of the Ignatov killing. He hinted he knows about the lost gun, which could implicate Metkin and Kabalin, too. He claims to be a member of the Chechen komitet, and we know the Chechen tried to take over the Swiss fund, although we’ve only got the woman’s word for it, no documentary evidence. If Zimin is that high in the Mafia organisation, it’s conceivable he’ll know what happened in America as well. If we make the deal, his telling us about America could be part of it…’

‘It’s linked with the embezzlement of the Party funds and the government, which you’ve been told must not come out!’ broke in Smolin.

‘Everything I have so far suggested would be restricted to a Russian enquiry which could finally culminate in a Russian court,’ pointed out Danilov. Looking between the Justice Minister and the Federal Prosecutor and measuring every word, he said: ‘We – you two, most of all – control the evidence and the prosecution presented before a Russian court…’

Barazin smiled, bleakly. ‘A point well made. What else?’

He was covering himself, Danilov decided. He moved towards further protection. ‘I have this morning ordered the re-arrest of Antipov, for further questioning. I’m convinced he knew the murder weapon would disappear. This time he won’t have any idea what I’ve got: what I might have learned in Italy. So this time the interview is going to be very different…’ If he told them what else he’d ordered – or intended – regarding Antipov he ran the risk of being caught out, because everything else still remained a guess. ‘… If you decide to offer Maksim Zimin the deal, there will need to be discussions between yourselves and the Italians. Possibly the return to Italy of Cowley and myself, to get as much as we can in advance of any trial of what the man can tell us, to satisfy Washington…’

Barazin gave another smile, more like a facial stretching exercise. ‘This is good.’

Their acceptance was such that Danilov decided to press on. ‘And I think it is important I continue the investigation, beyond what we already have and know,’ he lured.

‘Why?’ asked Oskin.

‘According to the woman, she has signed over control of the Geneva anstalt to the Chechen leadership. But we know, from the Swiss, they haven’t tried to access it. I think it’s important we find out why: for me to return there, for that purpose. Vasili Dolya was closely involved with creating the Swiss arrangement. I want your permission to arrest and interrogate him, before he knows there is not going to be a prosecution… And I want to talk to Raisa Ilyavich Serova again. As well as Yasev. I think there is more for them to tell. So I would resist their being released, until I can question them again. As I said, it is protective custody.’

‘You’re straying back into government problems again!’ warned Smolin.

‘Until we know completely what those problems might be, we won’t properly be able to prevent that happening,’ insisted Danilov, with unarguable logic. ‘The investigation isn’t properly concluded, not yet. It needs to be, before you can be entirely confident of avoiding any government embarrassment.’ If he got it all, he even had a slender excuse for making personal contact with the Chechen leadership.

Danilov was kept only briefly outside Vorobie’s ornate office, for the government officials to have another unrecorded discussion. When he was recalled, Barazin said: ‘You are to continue with the investigation. And with providing daily reports, through Federal Prosecutor Smolin. Which will include everything. We will open discussions with Washington on other matters.’