“He told me to call,” said the doctor, fingering the pasteboard on the table between them.
“When will you?”
“Soon. When this business with the woman’s body is settled. Polyakov realizes he’s been outsmarted. Still might try something.”
“Do you think the Englishman believed you had more?”
“I’ll hint what it is when we talk.”
“He’s definitely working to an agenda of his own,” complained Peters. His hair was too long for sea trips, blowing disordered around his face. Hurriedly he pulled on a sailing cap.
“It hardly matters,” Boyce pointed out, at the helm. “Whatever he keeps back from your woman, you get from me. Just as you get whatever our other departments contribute. We can’t be caught out.”
“Only by the Russians.”
“They’re not likely to do anything, are they?”
“They’re an uncertainty, and I don’t like uncertainties.”
“Their reaction would be intriguing, if we used Muffin as a diversion.”
“That’s increasingly what I’m thinking.”
“It would have to be an obvious assassination, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Your man ready?”
“Whenever I blow the whistle.”
“Let’s give it a day or two; there’s no urgency. But then make a sensation out of it.”
“Fine.”
“How was Moscow?”
“Appalling!” said Peters. “Dirty, uncomfortable and the ambassador served the most disgusting food I’ve ever eaten. Which I didn’t, hardly.”
“It was good of you to go,” said Boyce, repeating the earlier gratitude.
“Necessary, particularly in view of events,” said Peters. “Have you ever seen Muffin personally?”
“Of course not!” said Boyce, surprised at the question.
“Peculiar man. Looks like a bum. Won’t be any loss at all to your service.”
19
Charlie let Natalia feed and bathe the still-demanding Sasha (“If it’s a silly word, why did you say it?”), needing the escape more than the time. He still used the time, though. It was necessary to rethink. Reevaluate. It had been stupid leaving the grave when he did-downright bloody stupid. Not a disaster-easily recoverable, in fact-but that wasn’t the point. The point was getting everything-getting it all-the first time, and he hadn’t, which was more arrogance, hurt pride, than professional objectivity. So what was professionally objective? London’s secrecy intention-perhaps Washington’s, too-was now at Moscow’s mercy. A major reassessment. But more a diplomatic consideration than his, at operational ground level. What was there at his level? Vadim Lestov hadn’t told all to Miriam. So much for pubic power. Which wasn’t an irrelevant reflection. Told him something about the Russian detective. Had to keep it in mind. What else? Get it all, this time. Which he could. And would. So that wasn’t the point, either. The primary consideration-the sole consideration-was whether Natalia had been as successful as she obviouslybelieved herself to have been. Everything else, for the moment, was secondary.
She accepted the wine he had waiting when she emerged from the bedroom corridor and said, “I told Sasha you’d be along in a minute to say good night.”
That, like so much else, was becoming a ritual he enjoyed. “Of course.”
“I had to tell her what shit meant. She still thought it was silly.”
“I’m sorry,” apologized Charlie.
“Is what Denebin found a major problem?”
Charlie poured himself a second malt and said, “Not even one we’re going to think about yet. First priorities first. You.”
Natalia smiled, knowing the preference might have been difficult, the triumph rehearsed during the homeward drive. He listened leaning forward from his encompassing chair, looking into the glass cupped between both hands but not drinking. The silence unsettled Natalia, who’d expected-wanted-as much excitement, as much enthusiasm, as she felt.
Charlie didn’t immediately speak, even when Natalia had obviously finished. Natalia waited, becoming more unsettled. Finally Charlie said, “The adjournment was limited to just you, Viskov and Travin? And Nikulin?”
Natalia nodded. “Lestov was called back at the end, when Nikulin announced he was to take over operational control.”
“But he wasn’t officially appointed by title as your deputy?” pressed Charlie.
“Nikulin talked about there having to be changes, but there was nothing official, no. Letting them sweat, I suppose.”
“Which of them do you think Nikulin was talking about?” demanded Charlie.
Natalia allowed another pause. “Travin, primarily. Reducing his responsibility to the Lubyanka documentation was total humiliation. For him and Viskov, after the way they dismissed it and tried to use it.”
Charlie had hoped for more: a dismissal, even. “Are there any arrangements for you to see Nikulin again? By yourself?”
Natalia shook her head once more.
“Ask for a meeting,” urged Charlie. “It might have been too muchto hope that by itself it would have been enough to get Viskov moved, as well as Travin. But you’ve definitely got to get rid of Travin. Totally. He and Viskov have been humiliated, as well as caught out. They’re a threat as long as they’re still together in the same building, able to plot. Maybe more so than before, after what happened today. They’re fighting for their very existence now.”
The final vestiges of Natalia’s excitement seeped away. Charlie’s killer instinct, she remembered. “So I haven’t won?”
“Not yet.” Seeing her need, Charlie said, “But you will. That’s what we decided, didn’t we?”
“How?” she asked, despondently unsure.
“Using what we’ve got,” he said, inadequately. “Now tell me about the button from the Western uniform.”
“It’s not like those on the uniforms the dead men were wearing-not the same metal. And it’s definitely not from a Russian uniform.”
“Were there any special markings on it?” asked Charlie, urgently. There was another possibility that actually fit the way the English lieutenants had been dressed. There were two uniforms, dress and battle dress.
“I haven’t seen it yet. I will, of course.”
“I need a photograph,” insisted Charlie. He fell silent. Then he said, “I made a bad mistake-a stupid mistake-leaving the grave too early. Don’t like fucking up like that.”
“You’d decided there was someone else,” reminded Natalia, trying to help.
He had, acknowledged Charlie-from the.38 bullet as well as another person’s military knowledge of the waistband label. Charlie said, “It was a possibility that had to be considered. This is proof.” He straightened positively, dismissing the self-recrimination, at the same time topping up both their glasses. The immediate future was more important than the immediate past. Natalia’s survival was still the priority. “What was decided to do about a second English officer?”
Natalia made an uncertain gesture. “I used it as an accusation, as part of the argument: turned it against Travin that he hadn’t approached you or the American to get your findings. Your idea, remember?”
“What about disclosing it? I challenged Denebin in Yakutsk about everything else I saw him recover.”
“They know you went off before Denebin found the buttons-that you don’t know. That the American doesn’t know, either.”
“So?”
“It comes down to what you-and she-officially offer,” said Natalia. “Maybe not even then. It’s a hell of an advantage for us: the worst imaginable, as far as you’re concerned-” She hurriedly stopped. “The worst imaginable for Britain. I didn’t mean you personally.”
Was there a differentiation? wondered Charlie. There shouldn’t be, logically. But logic had very little to do with getting out from under when the toilet was flushed, and Charlie had a longtime aversion to getting covered in little brown bits. His was the name on everything: even on television, the identified person at the bottom of the toilet bowl. Charlie said, “But I know! And by knowing I can avoid a mistake.” He paused. “Any more mistakes,” he added, refusing himself an escape.