Trying to be objective, he recognized he should feel the complete opposite to the way he did and be thoroughly satisfied. Despite Kosov’s involvement, the case would be marked on his file as successfully investigated. And most importantly, without any security agency takeover, which made it much more than a personal triumph, elevating it into a success for the Militia as a whole, particularly as uniformed officers could be included as well. The false starts and wrong directions weren’t recorded anywhere, were certainly not publicly known, and in the official euphoria of the moment would be instantly forgotten by those who did know, like General Lapinsk and the Federal Prosecutor. He was being stupid, Danilov told himself: behaving like someone wallowing in a mid-life crisis or the male menopause. And he knew he wasn’t suffering either.
He deputed Pavin to organize the evidence assembly, futile though the operation possibly was, and stood down the disgruntled squads who had so bungled the routine inquiries. He also talked through with Pavin the threat officially to note on their personnel sheets the criticism against the most inefficient, particularly the two who had failed with the first interview and search at Yezhov’s apartment. Pavin acknowledged that regulations existed for such complaints to be appended, but pragmatically pointed out that no one would be censured or transferred from Petrovka; that wasn’t the way the system worked. All he would be doing, therefore, would be increasing the considerable ill-feeling he had already generated, without any practical benefit. And he had to go on working at Petrovka, didn’t he? Danilov decided not to bother.
He maintained daily contact with the Serbsky Institute and the psychiatrist, hoping for some improvement in Yezhov’s condition for further and better interviews to be possible. Tarasov insisted just as regularly that anything approaching a reasonable, comprehensible conversation with the man would be impossible for a long time, possibly forever. Yezhov had realized where he was the moment he’d recovered from the sedation that got him back into the clinic, erupting into a cell-wrecking frenzy, and for his own safety was having to remain almost continuously sedated. Tarasov feared the regression into persecuted paranoia was permanent. Yezhov’s mother visited every day: he didn’t appear to recognize her, even when they briefly relaxed the sedation. Danilov said he’d keep trying. Tarasov said he could do what he liked, but he was wasting his time.
The daily conferences with Lapinsk continued as well, although after that first triumphant day there wasn’t a great deal for them to discuss. The anticipated media hysteria had burst with the Tass announcement of Nadia Revin’s murder and continued with the second statement, within thirty-six hours, of a suspect’s detention. Lapinsk was glad they had delayed the press conference. Now they had the success of a joint investigation between the United States of America and Russia, the first of its kind, to talk about. Both he and the Federal Prosecutor had reversed their previous reluctance to participate.
It was during the discussion about the press conference that Danilov suggested Kosov should be included. The General was clearly surprised at the idea of sharing the credit. Finding no discomfort in perpetuating the prepared account, Danilov pointed out that it had been Kosov’s officers who had apprehended Petr Yezhov, although the criminal investigation branch had already isolated the man as a potential suspect: it was right that the participation of a uniformed division should be acknowledged. Lapinsk, prepared to concede anything in his relief that the matter was practically over, said he didn’t have any objection. He added that he thought Danilov was extremely generous.
Danilov drove personally and alone to the Militia station, taking the chance of Kosov being there by not telephoning in advance. Kosov was there. He kept Danilov waiting over thirty minutes, which Danilov did patiently, and finally had him make his own way up to the third-floor office, which again Danilov did without offence.
Kosov was in his shirt-sleeves, collar unbuttoned. There was a glass on his desk, generously filled with what could have been either cognac or whisky. He drank pointedly from it as Danilov entered, but didn’t offer anything to Danilov.
‘You wanted to see me?’
The hostility would have been a useful barrier to use, to avoid the still postponed evening with Kosov and Larissa, Danilov reflected. He located his own chair, just inside the door, and brought it further into the room. ‘We’re still waiting for positive forensic evidence but circumstantially it looks as if he’s the right man.’
‘I didn’t doubt that he was.’
‘No one seems to be doubting it. There’s going to be another press conference.’ The office was unrecognizable as the room he had once occupied. There was thick, wall-to-wall carpeting, colour-coordinated with the curtains. The desk was of a heavy, dark wood with a leather inlaid top. A matching, glass-fronted bureau occupied most of one side of the room and the chair in which Kosov sat was dark wood, too, although the upholstery was button-backed red leather. It all reminded Danilov of Gugin’s office, at the Lubyanka. There was a photograph of Larissa on Kosov’s desk. She looked very beautiful.
‘I heard.’ Kosov sipped from his drink.
‘I hardly think it would be fair for all that you did to go unrecorded,’ flattered Danilov. ‘I’ve spoken to the General. He agrees you should appear at the conference.’
Kosov’s demeanour softened almost visibly: he actually began to smile before remembering his anger at the way the other man had treated him at his own Militia station and quickly clearing the expression. ‘Appearing with whom?’
‘Myself and the American. The General. Smolin, the Federal Prosecutor. I don’t know if there’s going to be anyone else. I suppose there could be someone from one of the Ministries.’
Kosov was finding it difficult not to smile. ‘It will be a big affair then?’
‘Certainly as big as the first one. International, of course. All the American media. World media, in fact. I hope you’ll be able to make it. You — your station here — deserve the recognition. It’s entirely a matter for you, of course.’
‘There should be recognition, of what my officers did,’ said Kosov, appearing to believe the tidied-up version himself.
‘That’s what I feel.’
‘I could probably get there.’
‘General Lapinsk will be very pleased.’
Kosov held up his glass. ‘It’s whisky. From Scotland. Would you like some?’
‘Please,’ Danilov accepted, although he didn’t particularly like whisky.
The liquor was in the bottom of the bureau, where the glass finished and cupboards began. There was an expansive array of bottles. Kosov carried the whisky back to his desk and poured from there. ‘What, exactly, would I have to do?’
‘Appear, with the rest of us. Explain how the arrest came about. Say how you and your officers had been on the look-out, after my request for assistance.’
Kosov nodded. ‘That’s all true,’ he said, easily.
‘It’s agreed then?’
‘Absolutely.’
Danilov gestured around the office. ‘Quite a few changes.’
‘Just made it more comfortable. Personal touches.’
‘I met an old friend the other day.’
‘Old friend?’
‘Someone I introduced you to, before I left. Eduard Agayans.’
Kosov frowned, and Danilov believed that briefly the other man genuinely had difficulty in recalling the name. Then the frown cleared and Kosov said: ‘I didn’t keep in touch, after a while.’
‘He’s encountering difficulties, with his business.’
‘That’s unfortunate.’
‘He says some organized syndicates are crowding him out: not letting him operate although there’s business enough for everyone.’
‘I would have thought your division would have known all about organized syndicates,’ said Kosov. He got up from behind his desk and waddled forward, topping Danilov’s glass.