“The other man on duty heard a quarrel between Lubutkin and his roommate. This was not unusual, they often quarreled. When my man looked through the peephole a while later he saw two naked bodies on the floor. He called the office and we sent a team at once. We found both men dead. They had stabbed each other with knives from their kitchen.” Simonov paused, hoping that his forehead only felt hot, that it was not in fact sweating.
“A lovers’ quarrel, if I may use that expression, Comrade.”
“I see,” the old man said. “I suppose it could happen that way. These people are not rational.” He looked at Simonov, his old eyes shrewd.
“How is it that Shevenko did not know what was going on under his nose? Do you suppose that he was sampling this slimy creature’s so-called pleasures? Igor used to have a reputation for being a great man for the ladies. Could a man change, prefer young men to women, as he ages? I don’t know about such things.”
“Oh, no!” The words burst out of Simonov’s lips. “Not Igor, sir! I don’t know if he even knew about Lubutkin’s perversions. I haven’t talked with him about this. To have done so would have been to violate your confidence, Comrade.”
“And you would never think of doing that,” Plotovsky said in his dry voice. He reached out and touched a button on his desk console. His secretary opened the door between their offices and looked in.
“Summon Igor Shevenko here at once,” Plotovsky said. He turned to Simonov. “I must ask you to wait in my secretary’s office while Shevenko is here. She will get you some fresh tea and some cakes.”
When Shevenko arrived at Plotovsky’s office the pictures were in a neat pile at one side of the desk, a piece of paper covering the top photograph. Shevenko entered the office and shook hands with the old Communist leader and sat down in the chair where Simonov had been sitting.
“I wanted to talk to you about this business of the Admiral,” Plotovosky began. “But before we get to that, did your aide, that nice young man, what’s his name, Lubutkin? Yes. Did he report for work this morning?”
“No sir, he did not. It is the first absence he has been guilty of since he began working for me two years ago.”
“Do you know why he didn’t come to work?”
“Yes, sir, I do. The State Medical Examiner called me not an hour ago. He is dead. The Medical Examiner told me that he and his roommate, I didn’t know he shared his apartment and my office is checking now with the Housing Administration to see if his roomer was registered, the Medical Examiner told me that he and his roomer apparently had a fight and killed each other. The Medical Examiner also confirmed what I had learned two days ago, that Lubutkin was a pervert. If you will permit me sir, it is distasteful, the Medical Examiner found semen in each of the dead men’s rectums.”
Plotovsky nodded his head. “You learned of his perversion two days ago?”
“Yes, sir. I asked Internal Security to begin a surveillance of Lubutkin yesterday. The surveillance was to have begun today. The paperwork, you know, Internal Security has to have everything down in writing and in triplicate, that took some time.” His heavy face took on a somber cast.
“I was perhaps derelict, Comrade, in not suspecting him earlier. But he was such an efficient aide. I considered myself lucky to have such an eager worker.”
“I can understand that,” Plotovsky said. “These days the young people don’t know the meaning of work and sacrifice. They live for pleasure.” He looked up, his hooded lizard-like eyes half hidden behind their drooping eyelids.
“Now you have to look for another eager young man, don’t you? Someone who is willing to work long hours and keep a tight mouth about what he knows of your work.”
Shevenko paused. The conversation was taking a turn he didn’t like. Apparently the old man had known of Lubutkin’s death. The question was, how much did he know? He looked at the floor and then up at Leonid Plotovsky.
“I won’t run the same risk this time. I have decided to promote Sophia Blovin to the position of my aide. I gain in two ways if I do that. I have her expertise on the American psychology close at hand and I am more familiar with feminine appetites than those of perverts.”
“Blovin,” the old man said. He made motions with his hands, indicating Sophia’s generous bosom endowment. “I remember her from the meeting we had. I think she’s a good choice.” He grinned slyly. “Now all you have to worry about is her falling into bed with some CIA agent or an Israeli agent. Maybe you had better take care of those appetites yourself, Igor. You used to have quite a name for that sort of thing at one time.”
“Comrade, you shock me,” Shevenko said with a small smile. “I’m a happily married man.”
“Hah!” Plotovsky said. “I knew your mother-in-law before you did. Like mother like daughter. If the daughter is like the mother you live with an Arctic ocean iceberg.”
“Did my honored friend seduce my mother-in-law?”
“Before she married your late father-in-law, who must have died of frustration,” Plotovsky said. He leaned back in his chair. “Your wife’s mother was a handsome woman, still is. I was younger then, full of piss. That was before the Great War and I didn’t seduce her, she seduced me. She told me she believed it her duty to give solace to a hero of the Soviet Union.” He shuddered at the memory. “A bad experience. I never went back. Enough of that, let’s get to the business at hand. Did you know the Admiral was servicing your late aide?”
“No, sir,” Shevenko said with a straight face. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure,” Plotovsky said. “What sort of information could your late aide have passed on to the Admiral?”
“Not much,” Shevenko said slowly. “I told him as little as possible. He didn’t know I went to Israel, as you did because I told you. I told him only enough so that he could do his job.”
“But he did have access to your office files,” the old man persisted. “He could have gone into the files at night, when you were not there.”
“I keep confidential material in a safe, sir. The safe is fixed to sound an alarm and spray the intruder with an indelible red dye if the safeguards are not first deactivated. He did not know about those safeguards.”
The old street fighter put his gnarled hands on his desk top and studied them. “Lubutkin’s death seemed to have happened most opportunely. Now that his lover is dead the Admiral has no chance to know what our strategy will be to oppose him unless there is some other leak in your organization. Is that possible?”
“I don’t think so, sir,” Shevenko said. He watched Plotovsky carefully. Sophia had told him earlier that Simonov had been summoned to see Plotovsky. Had Anton said anything? He thought not.
“I think that’s enough of that subject,” Plotovsky said suddenly. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Shevenko stood up and walked to the coat tree and put on his coat and muffler and settled a fur hat on his head. After Shevenko had left the office Plotovsky buzzed for his secretary.
“Ask Comrade Simonov to come back in, please.”
Simonov entered from the secretary’s office and stood before Plotovsky’s desk. “Your secretary arranged for me to hear what was said in your conversation with Comrade Shevenko,” he said in a low voice.
“And?”
“I cannot believe anything bad about Comrade Shevenko, sir. We have been friends since our school days. You know that. He promoted me to my present position, sir. I admire him and trust him.”
The old man nodded. “I know all that. I approved of your promotion. You do your work well and you have a tight mouth.” He nodded his head slowly on his stalklike neck. “I know, too, that he arranged for your wife’s mother to emigrate to Israel.” He raised his hand as Simonov started to speak.