“I achieved all I wanted.”
Charlie discerned the faint doubt. Shaking his head, he said, “Maybe if you’d been more forthcoming we could have helped you make it better.” He refused to answer Miriam’s abrupt look, willing her not to say anything, make any interruption, until she understood what he was doing.
“What do you mean?” demanded Polyakov.
“I mean that both of us have been aware from the beginning that all our contacts with Moscow have been monitored,” said Charlie, easily. “Which is why we’ve said nothing to indicate our thinking or what we’ve already been able to decide. But most importantly there’s been no discussion, either, of what was discovered in London or Washington before we came here. Or what’s been shared by Moscow.”
The other man’s uncertainty was obvious now. “I want to know everything about this Nazi business!”
“After what happened this morning, I don’t feel at liberty to tell you,” said Charlie. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s something you’ll have officially to approach London about.”
“And Washington, as far as I am concerned,” came in Miriam, once more following in Charlie’s footsteps.
“Your being allowed here was on the understanding of complete cooperation,” threatened Polyakov, inadequately.
“That was our understanding, too.” Charlie nodded in the direction of the just-left room. “There wasn’t much evidence of complete cooperation in there. And I expect London to be outraged that what were official discussions between myself and my embassy were monitored.”
“Washington, too,” endorsed Miriam again. “I think the whole episode was extremely unfortunate. You would probably have been able to avoid a great deal of embarrassment by first discussing the claims and accusations you made today.”
Careful, thought Charlie worriedly.
Polyakov said, “I demand to know everything that’s been discovered elsewhere!”
“I have to refer you to London,” said Charlie. “Or my embassy in Moscow.”
“You are both here with my permission: under my sufferance,” further threatened the bearded chief minister. “It’s I who have to authorize the release of the bodies and their effects.”
Charlie thought Polyakov and Stalin would have gotten on well together. He said, “You told us earlier you’d already been in contact with London and Washington, agreeing that. We were photographed being given the official release papers.”
Polyakov’s face began to burn.
Sure of herself-of Charlie’s script-Miriam said, “This really could get most unpleasant. My embassy has an aircraft on standby to recover our national. I think everything is out of our hands now. Any decision to hold the bodies will be taken on a diplomatic level.”
The man was close to being out of his depth, Charlie guessed. His mind still on limitation, Charlie said, “I agree. I regret-and I feel sure my government will very much regret-what occurred today. At my level-the level of the investigation-I think it would be most unwise if the media for whose invitation you are responsible were allowed any more information or facilities than they already have been given. That’s as far as I feel able to go, guiding you about what’s known elsewhere about this case.”
“I can’t add to that,” said the woman.
The television teams had, of course, brought satellite communication equipment and the conference was instantly syndicated by their respective stations to be seen worldwide during the course of the day.
In London Sir Rupert Dean turned to his assembled committee and said, “Charlie Muffin will need a damned good explanation for this!” For Gerald Williams it was a superhuman effort not to speak or keep the satisfaction from his face.
In Moscow, McDowell, Gallaway and Cartright looked between each other in matching incredulity. Gallaway said, “Oh, my God!”
McDowell said, “I’ve got to speak to the bloody man,” but at once corrected himself. “No. I need to speak to London.”
And in the Lesnaya apartment Sasha said, “That’s Daddy. What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know,” said Natalia. Their situation had never stood a chance of succeeding, not from the very beginning.
“Inconceivable!” protested James Boyce.
“Definitely a need for some close controclass="underline" find out what the dangers are,” said Kenton Peters. “Sounded awfully like your man knew something he shouldn’t.”
“And your woman, too,” said Boyce. “Yakutsk itself was always our greatest weakness: a problem if the bodies were discovered, not knowing ourselves precisely where the grave was. Never in a million years expected it would melt like that.”
“Do you think Muffin is getting too close?”
“I’ve absolutely no way of knowing, not until he gets back to Moscow. I’ll get a full account then,” said Boyce.
“I think I should go personally,” said Peters. “Best you stay clear: more to lose in some ways with your man still living. And I’ve got a presidential problem because the damned idiot acted without consulting me, which is unforgivable.”
“You stopping by on your way?” asked Boyce.
“Think it’s best if I go to Moscow first. Assess the degree of danger on the ground.”
“Probably the better idea,” agreed Boyce. Heavily he said, “You going alone?”
“Muffin has to be identified,” reminded Peters. “It’ll be the ideal opportunity.”
“Try to make it on your way back,” urged Boyce. “Putting the boat in the water at the weekend.”
“That sounds nice.”
13
It was Miriam who suggested, “What was on the bodies and the clothes?” and Charlie said, “Yes” and they went directly from the encounter with Valentin Polyakov to the mortuary. It was several minutes before either realized that with the local militia officers acting as tour guides to the visiting media, they were alone and unchaperoned.
“I am going to look like Frankenstein’s bride on film,” complained the woman.
“I’d probably pass as Frankenstein’s creation as well, two dummies together.”
“I’m sure Ryabov would have warned me if he’d known.”
“Too late now.”
Miriam said, “How much of what you told the media was kosher, how much bullshit?”
“Bullshit that fit,” said Charlie.
“You think Polyakov bought the line afterwards?”
“Most of it. It helped, you picking up as you did.”
She shrugged. “We’re in a hell of a mess, aren’t we? You see a way out?”
“Solving everything, with no embarrassments to anyone, would be a start.”
“So would a cure for cancer,” she said.
“You really got a plane on standby?”
“Small cargo freighter, chartered from Aeroflot. This thing’s getting a lot of play back home. Secret Grave of the Unknown Soldier, that sort of thing. Good bandwagon for a president with falling poll ratings to get on board.”
“Any chance of sharing?” Charlie was panting, climbing up and down tilting corridors. He wished she wouldn’t walk so fast.
“That’s what I keep asking you, remember?” avoided Miriam, making a point.
“What did you get out of Ryabov and Lestov?” Charlie countered.
“Nothing out of Ryabov, apart from the eavesdropping, which I’d guessed anyway. All he wanted was to get into my pants. That was Lestov’s main aim, too. But he was prepared to trade, to get there. Olga didn’t get anything extra from the autopsies and is pissed about it. Denebin got a lot of metal out of the grave, apparently.”
“Grenades,” identified Charlie, simply.
Miriam stopped, turning to look at him. “Grenades!”
“That’s how the grave was made, the quickest way, throwing two or three grenades one after the other at the same place,” said Charlie, grateful for the chance to rest his feet. “And they were either German or Russian. The grenades both used, during the war, had wooden handles: they could be thrown farther than the British and American pineapple type. I saw Denebin pick up quite a lot of burned wood fragments.”