No Time for Heroes by Brian Freemantle Read Free Book Online Page B

detected.
    â€˜He should have suggested it himself.’
    â€˜There’s the other obvious way.’
    â€˜Who goes to Switzerland?’
    â€˜Stupar. The Swiss won’t recognise his qualifications, though: he’ll have to work through a local lawyer.’
    â€˜I think we should start limiting knowledge only to what people have to know. It’s safer.’
    â€˜I agree,’ said Gusovsky.
    â€˜And that should include Zimin from now on. He’s only good at controlling thugs.’
    Gusovsky didn’t respond. If Zimin proved a liability, he’d have to be eliminated. Gusovsky decided against reaching a decision too soon: when it happened – if it had to happen – he’d make it an example throughout the Family, to prove no-one was safe, no matter how high in the organisation. A public execution, in fact.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Cowley supposed his identification was inevitable (‘Hey, don’t I recognise you?’) once the Georgetown photographs were compared in the newspaper picture libraries. Just as it was inevitable the media would fill in the lack of real information with long references to his having been the first American investigator officially to work in Moscow. He still regretted the exposure. He’d missed the initial coverage, on the previous evening’s TV news, but it was repeated on every morning channel and all the newspapers carried his picture at the scene the previous day and from the Moscow affair: some even had shots and lengthy accounts of the case. There was, of course, no identification of Pauline’s second husband as the killer: according to the carefully concocted official records, the murderer was the mentally deranged Moscow labourer they had first – wrongly – arrested.
    There were already three enquiries from FBI Public Affairs for interviews by the time Cowley got to his office. There was also a message from the State Department that the Russians were providing more up to date photographs of Serov. The embassy had also formally requested the return of the body. Cowley rejected the interviews, and telephoned the Director’s office for a meeting that afternoon.
    A list of what had been found on the body was already on his desk and Cowley at first skimmed it hopefully, remembering Johannsen’s remark about a pocket diary. There wasn’t one. In addition to the DC driving licence that had provided the original identification, there were locally billed MasterCharge and American Express cards, four house keys, $76 in cash, a pair of spectacles, in their case, American manufactured ballpoint and fountain pens, and a clean pad of reminder notes marked as undergoing forensic testing for previous page indentations. There had been a plain band of Russian-origin gold on the man’s wedding finger, and a tie clasp and matching cuff-links of American make.
    Cowley had just finished going through the list when Rafferty and Johannsen arrived. Even before he sat down Rafferty said: ‘We didn’t know we were with a celebrity! Do we give autographs when we’re asked or not?’
    There wasn’t the earlier resentful edge of cynicism, and Cowley was glad. ‘What about the house-to-house?’
    â€˜Zilch,’ dismissed Rafferty.
    â€˜The captain wants to know if you need the scene to remain sealed. All your guys have gone,’ said Johannsen.
    â€˜I’m seeing our scientific co-ordinator this morning. I’ll check if it can be released. And there is something from the scene: a shell casing from a Russian gun.’
    Both homicide detectives straightened slightly in their chairs, discarding the professional casualness. ‘You think maybe he was killed by one of his own people?’ queried Johannsen. ‘That it is the Russian Mafia!’
    â€˜Could be a set-up, to make it look like that,’ cautioned Rafferty.
    â€˜Let’s wait for the evidence,’ warned Cowley. He’d already