She breathed deeply and sat back. Rostnikov said nothing.
"I'm sorry," she went on. "I was so… My husband has been through so much."
"And it is very important that he be allowed to move to the West," said Rostnikov.
"It is what he wants, what he needs," she said. "He cannot contain, cannot control his beliefs. If he remains in the Soviet Union, he will get into more trouble. If he remains in Siberia unable to practice, to do his research, he will probably die."
"And that is important to you?" asked Rostnikov.
She nodded.
"Would you like to know why Dimitri Galich killed Commissar Rutkin?" Rostnikov asked.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Dimitri Galich, before he died, said that he killed Commissar Rutkin because you asked him to," Rostnikov said.
"I… he said I…" she said, her eyes opening, her hand moving to her breast.
"Absurd on the surface," said Rostnikov, "but he claimed with the sincerity of a dying man that you and he were lovers and that you said Rutkin was going to reveal your affair as part of the hearing into the death of Karla Samsonov."
"That's ridiculous," she said clasping her hands together.
"I don't know," Rostnikov shrugged. "He swore and it sounded sincere to me and my assistant."
"Why would I have an affair with Dimitri Galich?" she cried. "He was old enough to be my father, maybe my grandfather."
"As am I," Rostnikov said, "and moments ago you appeared to be quite willing to be intimate with me to get me to free your husband. It is possible you knew about Galich's vulnerability, his background and weakness for women and you engaged him with the very thought of getting him to kill Commissar Rutkin. My experience seems to confirm Galich's dying claim."
"How would I know anything of Dimitri Galich's background, this weakness?" she said, standing and fishing into the pocket of her dress for a package of cigarettes. She pulled one out, put it to her lips and lit it, her eyes fixed on the placid face of the seated policeman.
"My guess," said Rostnikov, "is that you are a KGB agent, that you have spent some time in getting close to Samsonov, marrying him. My guess is that Samsonov is finding it relatively easy to leave the country not only as a gesture of glasnost, but because he will be in a position within the western scientific community to learn a great deal about people, developments which would be of great value to the KGB. My guess is that when Karla died, and according to the reports her death was quite natural, quite accidental, and Samsonov went wild in grief and anger, it threatened your plan. Rutkin was sent because he was incompetent. It was assumed he would be fed information, probably most of it true, to prove that Karla died by accident. With your help, it was hoped that Samsonov would believe it, would leave the country, would not go mad. You had invested too much in him to lose Samsonov. Am I close?"
"Go on," she said taking a deep lungful of smoke.
"Somehow Rutkin stumbled on information about you. Perhaps it wasn't much but it was enough to make it possible for your husband to become suspicious. And Commissar Rutkin was ambitious. Maybe you tried to persuade him to be quiet about what he knew. Maybe you even told him you were KGB. Maybe he didn't believe you."
"It was ridiculous," Ludmilla Samsonov said with a deep sigh, reaching over to put out her unfinished cigarette. "I told him to call Moscow. The phones were out. All that night. He didn't believe me. The fool didn't believe me and he was going to ruin everything. He confronted Galich, told him, told me that he would suggest at the hearing that we might have killed Karla. He came up with some nonsense about Karla having seen Galich and me together."
"And so," said Rostnikov still sitting. "You convinced Galich that he had to kill Rutkin and because he loved you he did it. He was quite happy this morning. He thought your husband was going to prison, that you wouldn't be leaving Tumsk. I'm sorry to say that you handled the situation rather badly. Your attempt to shoot me is a rather good example of what can only be described as incompetence."
"And what do you plan to do with this information?" she said.
Rostnikov pulled himself up from the sofa with a deep breath and looked at her. She was quite beautiful, even more beautiful now that the guise of vulnerability had been dropped.
"Nothing," said Rostnikov. "There is nothing I can do to you without destroying myself." He looked around the room. "I will announce that Galich was the murderer. I will 'order the release of your husband. And in a few days the two of you will leave the country with your belongings, your books, your memories."
"That is a wise decision, Comrade," she said, "and I will tell my superiors of your cooperation."
She held out her right hand but Rostnikov did not take it.
"I do not give my hand to murderers," said Rostnikov.
She dropped her hand to her side and shrugged.
"As long as you keep your word to them, Comrade," she said.
Rostnikov nodded, accepted his coat and hat and refused to let her help him put them on. He had learned patience.
General Krasnikov's book would leave the country. He assumed the general had some contact in the West who could pick it up, probably get it published, maybe save some lives including Josefs.
As for Ludmilla Samsonov, Rostnikov was well aware of the need for such operations, the need for intelligence information. But he could not forgive her the seduction and death of Dimitri Galich. Perhaps some day a western embassy would receive a call or a note suggesting that Ludmilla Samsonov was not what she appeared to be. Perhaps and perhaps not.
Rostnikov moved quickly away from the house and down the slope. The snow had stopped. He was on his way home to Sarah.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Before he left Tumsk, Rostnikov ordered the release of Lev Samsonov with apologies and announced that for reasons unknown Dimitri Galich had murdered Commissar Rutkin and, when he was discovered, was killed trying to resist arrest.
Samsonov was presented with the information confirming his daughter's death by natural causes and his wife, in an emotional plea to her husband, helped to convince him that Rostnikov's report on Karla's death was accurate, that there was no conspiracy.
Procurator Sokolov brooded but could find no fault with Rostnikov's actions other than his lack of consideration for the representative of the Procurator General's Office.
Rostnikov said goodbye to the officer at the weather station and the Mirasnikov's. He promised Famfanoff that he would write the letter for him supporting his request for transfer.
The last resident of Tumsk Rostnikov saw before he left the town was General Krasnikov who was standing at his window when Rostnikov, Karpo and Sokolov came out of the house with their bags and headed for the waiting helicopter.
"Summarize," the major said. "I'm not concerned about the investigation itself. I've already been informed about that. The conclusion is satisfactory. I wish a listing of each error, indiscretion, delay in Inspector Rostnikov's investigation. We will be getting a similar report from Inspector Sokolov of the Procurator's Office."
"I will prepare the report on my observations of the investigation. I will also give you copies of my part of the investigation. I have that in my travel case. I will, however, inform Inspector Rostnikov, who is my immediate superior, that I have done so. This is in accordance with MVD and CID regulations."
"I am well aware of the regulations," Major Zhenya said. "In matters of national security, such regulations are superceded."
"National security?" asked Karpo. "I am unable to see how Inspector Rostnikov's conducting of this investigation deals with or compromises national security."
"It is not your place to understand," said Zhenya. "If you do not comply you will be obstructing an investigation dealing with national security, an investigation which involves much more that you do not see or understand."