No Time for Heroes

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The interrogation of Mikhail Antipov did not resume the day of the confrontation, nor for several days after. The Russian Foreign Ministry offered the American State Department an expanded apology at international diplomatic level, and the Federal Prosecutor invited William Cowley to Pushkinskaya and talked of personality clashes and internal jealousies to be examined by an immediately convened tribunal. Washington agreed not to make any public disclosure, accepting Moscow’s argument it could further impede an already interrupted investigation, with no practical benefit.

Ludmilla Radsic told the tribunal that upon the Director’s personal instructions, following the original American protest, she had signed receipt of memoranda she had not been permitted to read. She’d had nothing whatsoever to do with the compilation of the register and did not know its contents. She had been personally briefed by the Director prior to her appointment as Danilov’s secretary to make separate notes and report back to him on everything that occurred in his office. She’d been told to listen to every telephone conversation and to every conversation in Russian between Danilov, Pavin and Cowley. She’d had to write down the exchanges in as much detail as possible: once, entering the Director’s office, she’d heard him relaying something about the unsuccessful interview with Raisa Serova to someone on the telephone. She did not know the combination of the exhibit safe, nor what had happened to the Makarov. She’d had to surrender every reminder she’d made, so she had no written evidence Each of Metkin’s secretarial staff testified they had not prepared the disputed messages.

Metkin and Kabalin continued to deny falsification, insisting the memoranda were genuine, or any knowledge of the missing murder weapon. Metkin also categorically denied ordering Ludmilla Radsic to spy for him. The woman’s circumstantial evidence was judged enough to continue the suspension of both men but insufficient to bring any formal, criminal charges of conspiracy to impede the course of justice.

Danilov regarded that as a cover-up, to remove a problem but prevent a public government humiliation, and Cowley agreed with him. Their disillusionment worsened when the questioning of Antipov re-started.

Although directorship of the Bureau remained with Oskin, the day-to-day supervision was passed to Smolin, who conducted the session as he’d undertaken. Antipov still swaggered, lolling sideways with one arm lodged over the chair back: by now he virtually had a full beard and he smelled badly, from not washing. When Smolin identified himself Antipov laughed in Danilov’s direction and said: ‘He so bad you’ve got to do his job for him?’

Smolin was too experienced a lawyer ever to feel irritation. ‘It’s all gone wrong,’ he said. ‘They were caught, trying to get rid of the gun. That’s why I’m here: this is official. We’ve still got the gun and it’s going to put you in front of a firing squad. And we have their confessions, too.’

‘Congratulations!’

‘It’s everyone for himself now. That’s all they’re interested in, saving themselves. As you should be.’

‘Who’s they?’ demanded Antipov.

‘You tell me,’ said the prosecutor, possibly his only mistake.

‘No!’ refused Antipov. ‘ You tell me!’

‘Metkin. Kabalin.’

The Mafia man pulled a face, turning down both corners of his mouth. ‘Never heard of them. Like I never heard of anyone named Ivan Ignatov. Or something or someone called Chechen or Ostankino.’

That was the moment Danilov and Cowley – and Smolin – knew they’d lost. The Federal Prosecutor persisted for almost a further hour, until the repetition risked becoming farcical.

‘Metkin and Kabalin weren’t his only protectors!’ decided Danilov in the conference that followed, careless in his frustration at making the accusation to a government minister in the presence of the American.

There was no disapproval from Smolin. ‘Which would have to mean someone within the Interior Ministry.’

‘Or the judiciary,’ added Danilov.

‘Which might also account for the decision not to proceed with criminal charges against Metkin or Kabalin!’ suggested Cowley, emboldened by Smolin’s easy acceptance of what Danilov had said.

‘That was taken on my advice,’ corrected the Federal Prosecutor, although still with no resentment. ‘There wasn’t enough, legally, to proceed.’

‘When will there be?’

‘When there is a mistake that can’t be covered up,’ insisted Smolin.

Danilov hoped there was still the possibility of finding one, but didn’t tell Smolin. He’d insisted upon a replacement secretary. She was a hopefully smiling woman named Galina Kanayev, who had a dumpling face on a dumpling body and whose first job, under Pavin’s guidance, had been to correct the falsified communications dossier. She welcomed the relief of typing Danilov’s official request to the Foreign Ministry for a re-examination of all Petr Serov’s material returned from Washington. Prompted by being told of the comparison he was going to have to make, Pavin said the three names Lapinsk had provided had not shown up in any criminal record: he was about to begin on the records of government personnel.

Danilov told Cowley that night, in the Savoy bar, he had finally initiated the search. ‘It’s a possibility,’ accepted the American doubtfully.

‘Any other suggestions?’

‘What about surveillance on Antipov, when he’s released?’

‘We’ll try,’ agreed the Russian. ‘He’ll expect it, though.’

‘What about bugging his apartment, before you release him?’

‘I’ll suggest it,’ said Danilov.

Cowley remained in the bar after Danilov’s departure. By now he had an accustomed place in the corner furthest from the door. He saw, the moment she entered, the darkly attractive, short-haired girl who’d established an equally accustomed place at a side table, just inside the entrance, for over a week now. He guessed she was a professional, because there were a few of them regularly around, but he’d seen her reject quite a few approaches, so obviously she was extremely particular. He smiled almost without thinking, in the way of bar regulars, and she smiled back: worriedly he wondered if she might have misunderstood and make an approach, but she didn’t. He smiled at the girl as he finally left the bar and she shifted slightly, smiling up expectantly. But he carried on alone to his room.

‘The man was head of the Organised Crime Bureau!’ protested Maksim Zimin. ‘We knew how the investigation was going! Now we don’t! It was a totally unnecessary mistake!’

It was the first time that one of Alexandr Yerin’s intricate proposals had collapsed so badly, and he didn’t like the failure or the criticism. ‘They weren’t our only source, close to what’s going on.’

‘They were the best! Kosov doesn’t have any inside access,’ persisted Zimin. ‘And we can’t intercept what’s going to Oskin!’ He thought this more than balanced the Washington error.

‘There’s no benefit in looking back,’ intervened Gusovsky, although he agreed with Zimin. ‘The link-up is far more important. We are going to get the company details legally assigned soon now.’

‘We’re not going to delay the meeting?’ queried Zimin, the delegate, hoping his reluctance didn’t show. He was uneasy operating outside the guaranteed safety and protection of Moscow.

‘Definitely not,’ insisted Yerin. ‘We’ve got to maintain their confidence.’

‘There’s no way we can be blocked, getting the money. You can make all the agreements: they won’t expect you to be carrying it with you,’ said Gusovsky.

‘We won’t have the investigation monitored!’ said Zimin, not wanting to relax the pressure on the blind man.

‘Kosov will have to work that much harder,’ said Gusovsky.

‘What about Metkin and Kabalin?’

Yerin gave a waving gesture, like someone disturbing an irritating insect. ‘They’re no further use to us.’

‘They know!’ insisted Zimin.

‘And if they talk they go to jail for the rest of their lives! They know that, too. Stop pissing your pants!’

‘I need to know everything about Switzerland,’ said Zimin.

‘Just make the contact and convince them we can set up the deal,’ said Yerin.