“Yes, but I would like her to identify a photograph.”
“Of course. And the Englishman, Wilson, is still at the Rossiya, according to John Crane at the British embassy. Mr. Wilson is here on the gas pipeline business. The black marketeer, Misha, said that his friends saw only the car, but I believe that was Mr. Fisher’s car. There are few Pontiac Trans Ams in Moscow. Probably none. So that is my hard evidence, if we should need it, sir.”
Banks nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to Alevy. “So, despite the fact that the Rossiya and Intourist say Mr. Fisher was never at the hotel, you two are convinced he was and that he called the embassy from there. Let me ask you this: Are you sure there is an American Gregory Fisher in the Soviet Union?”
Alevy answered, “The Soviet Foreign Ministry has been suspiciously quick to confirm that it issued a visa to a Mr. Gregory Fisher of New Canaan, Connecticut, age twenty-four, and Intourist has been helpful for a change, informing us that this Mr. Fisher crossed the frontier at Brest seven days ago. He spent a night in Brest, three nights in Minsk, a night in Smolensk, and was on the road in between.”
“And,” Banks asked, “you believe this is the same Gregory Fisher who called our embassy?”
Alevy seemed somewhat impatient. “He’s the only Gregory Fisher we have in country at the moment, sir. Intourist also confirms that Gregory Fisher was to have checked in at the Rossiya. The evidence seems conclusive, sir.”
“Has anyone contacted this man’s family?”
“That would be premature,” Alevy answered. “There is no use upsetting them at this stage.”
Banks added, “And until we are sure he has vanished, as you are suggesting.”
“Actually,” Alevy replied, “he has not vanished. I think we can tidy up all these questions shortly. We know where Gregory Fisher is now.”
“Where is he, Mr. Alevy?”
“He is in Mozhaisk, sir. In the morgue.”
Banks leaned forward across the table. “Dead?”
Alevy replied dryly, “Yes, sir. I believe that’s why he’s in the morgue. Peterson, in the consular section, got the call about twenty minutes ago. The call came from a gentleman who identified himself only as an official of the Soviet government. Mr. Fisher had a car accident.”
Banks said, “How terrible!”
“Yes, sir.” Alevy shuffled some papers in front of him and glanced at a blue sheet. “According to the militia report, Mr. Fisher’s car, which they call a Transamerikanets sportivnyi avtomobil, was found at daybreak this morning by peasants, eighteen kilometers west of Mozhaisk in a ravine off the Minsk — Moscow highway. The car apparently had been heading toward Moscow and went off the highway during the night, crashing into a tree. The damage indicates the car was traveling at excessive speed and could not navigate a sudden turn in the road. Mr. Fisher was not wearing a seat belt and suffered chest and head injuries. He died of his injuries before the peasants discovered the accident. We are requested to take charge of the body for shipment out of the Soviet Union.”
Banks seemed to be pondering all this, then said, “That would indicate that Mr. Fisher never got to Moscow.”
Hollis added, “Nor to Borodino, since according to my map, the accident occurred some kilometers before the Borodino turnoff.”
Banks looked at Alevy. “There is certainly some inconsistency here. Is it at all possible that Mr. Fisher never reached Moscow? That he made this call from the road and that he was perpetrating some sort of hoax or prank?”
Alevy replied, “Fisher’s call came through without operator assistance, meaning it was made from metropolitan Moscow. In addition we have the voice-stress test and the witnesses. What else do you need, Charles? Videotape?”
“One has to be absolutely certain.” Banks glanced at his watch and stood. “You’ve both done an admirable job of detective work considering the difficulties here. I’m quite proud of you. I think the ambassador should alert the Soviet authorities to these facts and tell them that we suspect foul play and that we want a full investigation.”
Alevy and Hollis glanced at each other. Alevy said, “Mr. Banks, what we are suggesting is that it was the Soviet authorities who murdered Gregory Fisher.”
“Oh.” Banks nodded slowly. “Yes, I see. Because of what Mr. Fisher said regarding this Major Dodson.”
Alevy studied Banks’ face, then said, “Charles, are you jerking us around, or are you that dense?”
Banks winked in reply, then said, “Well, I’ll speak directly to the ambassador about this. I trust you’ll both keep in mind the political considerations that may arise as a result of this incident.”
Alevy stood. “As a political affairs officer, that will be foremost in my mind, sir. Foremost.”
“Splendid. Colonel Hollis?”
Hollis remained seated and didn’t reply.
“Colonel?”
Hollis said to Banks, “Once I bombed only politically approved targets. We lost the war.”
Banks responded in a soothing voice, “As you know, in the Soviet armed forces there is a political commissar attached to every command. The military officers resent this, but they recognize that today war is too important to be left to the generals and colonels. Especially cold war. Good day, gentlemen.” Banks went out the door.
Alevy said to Hollis, “Why didn’t you just say okay? That’s all he wanted to hear.”
Hollis stood. “An American citizen has been murdered, and I’m a little pissed off.”
“They get murdered in America all the time,” Alevy observed. “Do you feel partly responsible for Fisher’s death?”
“I suppose. Wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe. Look, Sam, I’m not a politician or a diplomat, but you have to see their point of view as this thing heats up. Some dorks are trying to crank up détente again, and that’s the numero uno consideration right now. If I found two KGB men in the basement planting a bomb, the ambassador would tell me to forget it.”
“What if you found a KGB man in bed with the ambassador’s wife?”
Alevy smiled. “Same thing. One can’t become personally involved. Détente. Think peace.” He held up two fingers. “Peace.”
“Okay, forget that Fisher was murdered. Why was he murdered?”
“You know. He saw something. Heard something.”
“Something big.”
“Apparently,” Alevy replied.
“We’re supposed to find out what it is. That’s why they put us here.”
“Yes. That’s true. Let’s see what comes down from Washington.” Alevy walked to the door. “If you have nothing further of a sensitive nature, let’s go. The snack bar has croissants from Paris this morning. If you stick one in your ear, you can hear the sound of a sidewalk cafe.”
“I’m going to go for the body.”
“Wrong. Someone in the consular section is going for the body. That’s their job.”
“I don’t think you heard me. I am going.”
Alevy looked annoyed but said nothing.
“I’ll need two passes from the Foreign Ministry.”
“Two?”
“I’m taking company.”
“Who?”
“Lisa Rhodes.”
“Is that so? How do you know she wants to go?”
“Everyone here would like to get out of Moscow. Even picking up a corpse is a treat.”
“You understand that the Foreign Ministry will inform the KGB that they have issued a pass in your name.”
“I think I understand that,” Hollis replied.
“The Komitet does not like you any more than they like me. They may not be able to resist the temptation to get you to the Mozhaisk morgue on their terms.”