‘I’m afraid the information is limited,’ Hartz apologized. He recounted what had been relayed from Moscow, aware for the first time of an odd mobility of Burden’s face: the man frequently widened his eyes, as if he were constantly astonished at what he was being told, an unnerving, intimidating mannerism.
‘Mutilated her?’ demanded Burden, when Hartz talked of the hair.
‘She was shorn,’ confirmed Hartz pedantically.
‘What about sex?’
‘There’s been no report of any sexual assault,’ said Holmes, entering the conversation. The Senator really did look like the Colonel Sanders logo.
‘They got the bastard?’
‘Not as far as we know.’
Burden looked to each of the three men. Then he said: ‘So, what are you doing about it?’ The word-biting New England accent was very pronounced.
Both Directors looked to Hartz for a reply. The Secretary of State said: ‘At the moment, waiting for more information from Moscow.’
Burden’s eyes widened. ‘I meant doing practically. How many investigators have you assigned? What’s the command structure? Has the President been informed?’
Ross gestured towards the CIA chief and said, with impatient bluntness: ‘Dick and I have both taken legal advice. Neither agency has any right of investigation whatsoever.’
Burden shook his head, seemingly incredulous. ‘I don’t believe what you’re telling me! You telling me that a sweet, innocent American girl — my niece — has been slaughtered in Moscow and that you’re not going to do a damned thing about it? Because if you are, think again, every one of you. I want that killer found and I want him tried and executed and I want it all done by Americans. You hearing me?’
The FBI Director reddened, the restraint clearly difficult. ‘I can understand your feelings. You have my sympathy. But as it stands at the moment there is nothing we can do. There’s no way of our getting involved.’
‘Find a way!’ demanded Burden, loud-voiced. ‘I’m not having the murder of my niece investigated by a bunch of Russians using Stone Age techniques and methods! And I know the American public won’t have it, either.’
Hartz recognized that Burden could get as much media attention as he wanted. Hartz said: ‘I am calling in the Russian ambassador later to demand an assurance that everything possible is being done by the Russian authorities.’
Burden gave another head shake of disbelief, his eyes widening and contracting. ‘I asked if the President has been informed.’
‘I had a message sent to Camp David,’ replied Hartz. ‘He’s deeply shocked and asked me to pass on his condolences.’
‘That all! He didn’t talk about what we were going to do?’
‘He knows of this meeting. He’s asked to be kept informed.’
‘I’ll inform him,’ said Burden, threateningly. ‘He’ll take my call.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ agreed Hartz. He decided to make his own contact, as well, to correct whatever slant Burden imposed in his account: it would be a very personal interpretation.
‘I would expect our investigative technology is more advanced than the Russians,’ offered Ross, reflectively. It was a professional remark, not offered as a defence against the Senator’s pop-eyed outrage.
‘I’m damned sure it is!’ said Burden, aggressively.
‘So?’ queried the CIA chief.
‘Maybe that would be the way to get in,’ suggested the Bureau Director. ‘Offer all and every access to our scientific facilities.’
‘Offer!’ echoed Burden, sneering. ‘Ask, you mean? Cap-in-hand?’
Ross sighed loudly. ‘I thought the point was to become involved.’
‘I think it’s a good idea,’ said Hartz. ‘I’ll raise it with the ambassador.’
‘We sure this is a genuine murder?’ demanded Burden, with sudden suspicion. ‘Has anyone thought that this might be an official assassination?’
Now it was the two Directors who looked incredulous: it was the unintimidated Ross who spoke for both, although still restrained. ‘What possible reason could there be for assassinating Ann Harris?’
‘I’m no admirer of Russia,’ admitted Burden, openly.
Hartz was well enough aware of Burden’s conceit, but decided this verged on megalomania. ‘Everything that has come from Moscow indicates a street mugging.’
‘Put it to your people in Moscow,’ ordered Burden, talking to the CIA Director. ‘I want that checked out.’
Now it was Holmes who reddened slightly. He nodded, saying nothing. Son-of-a-bitch, he thought.
‘Be direct with the ambassador, too,’ said Burden, continuing the instructions.
‘I’ll do what I consider best,’ said Hartz, finally resisting, although very weakly.
Pinpricks of colour now registered on Burden’s face and his mouth formed into an angry line. ‘This isn’t an ordinary murder: this isn’t the killing of someone who didn’t matter. Don’t forget that.’
‘The Bureau doesn’t consider anyone who gets murdered to be unimportant,’ said Ross, increasingly impatient.
‘I want a daily briefing,’ Burden insisted to the Secretary of State. ‘I want to know the outcome of the meeting with the ambassador and I want to hear everything that comes out of Moscow …’ He hesitated, looking to the CIA Director. ‘And don’t forget, either, to check the assassination theory.’
No one spoke in the first few moments after Burden’s departure. Then Holmes said: ‘What fucking assassination theory? Jesus Christ!’
‘I believe he thinks he’s Him,’ said Ross. ‘Can either of you begin to imagine what it will be like if he does become President? Thank God I’m not a Washington careerist.’
‘Power and influence,’ warned Hartz. ‘When he says jump, Congress jumps. All together. And Burden controls the budget like a miser worried about cash flow.’ A diplomatic negotiator on every level, Hartz added: ‘If we were allowed in, it would be the Bureau responsibility, right?’
‘Yes,’ said Ross.
‘Would you use your man already at the Moscow embassy?’
The Bureau Director shook his head, at once. ‘From the Bureau here.’
‘Why not run a feasibility, just in case?’
Throughout the day Walter Burden made himself available to all three major television networks and every newspaper or magazine which approached him, which was a lot, not just American but foreign publications as well. He declared himself devastated by the crime. Ann Harris was a niece whom he’d loved dearly, whose life had been only just beginning. He had spoken personally with the President and had been assured that all necessary steps were being taken by the Russian authorities to arrest the killer: the full resources of American criminal investigation agencies were being offered to Moscow. In response to several questions, Burden said he might consider going to the Russian capital himself. Every television appearance was accompanied by still photographs of Ann Harris, some taken with Burden. They were all good reproductions, showing a smiling, typically American girl with brace-sculpted teeth and flowing black hair. Which was how Burden wanted people to think of her, so he said nothing about the shorn hair.
The Ann Harris murder and Walter Burden’s interview remained the lead item through the day on Cable News Network, so William Cowley saw it several times on his office set in the FBI headquarters building. The anger at not already having been informed, which he considered he should have been as a courtesy at least, began and was just as quickly curbed. To have been informed would have been a courtesy, because his responsibility for Russian affairs was officially restricted to counter-espionage within the United States. And it was certainly not a courtesy he could have expected from the FBI agent stationed in Moscow, for altogether personal reasons.