Read Online In the Name of a Killer by Brian Freemantle - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Freemantle
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the financial independence to speak his mind. ‘I’m stating the legal reality.’
‘The Russians are behaving arrogantly,’ said Hartz. ‘I don’t think they should have entered her apartment as they did.’
‘What are you doing about that?’ asked Holmes.
‘There’s been a complaint, from the embassy. I’m calling the Russian ambassador here, to emphasize it.’
‘I don’t know the diplomatic protocol, but the Russians are investigating a murder,’ Ross pointed out, mildly.
‘You approve what they did?’ asked Hartz.
‘If the situation were reversed and it had happened here in Washington I wouldn’t have censored any of my people for doing the same. And there’s not a lot of practical purpose in complaining after the event, is there?’
The desk buzzer gave another warning, but Senator Walter Burden was already through the door before the Secretary of State reached it for a personal welcome. Burden nodded in recognition to both Directors and said in advance of sitting down: ‘I want to know everything that’s happened! All the developments!’ The man was immaculate in a broad-striped suit and pink shirt: the tie and pocket handkerchief formed a matching combination. He sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards them intently: for no obvious reason he put on heavy reading glasses. He nodded, as if giving everyone in the room permission to speak.
‘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.
‘The Russians are behaving arrogantly,’ said Hartz. ‘I don’t think they should have entered her apartment as they did.’
‘What are you doing about that?’ asked Holmes.
‘There’s been a complaint, from the embassy. I’m calling the Russian ambassador here, to emphasize it.’
‘I don’t know the diplomatic protocol, but the Russians are investigating a murder,’ Ross pointed out, mildly.
‘You approve what they did?’ asked Hartz.
‘If the situation were reversed and it had happened here in Washington I wouldn’t have censored any of my people for doing the same. And there’s not a lot of practical purpose in complaining after the event, is there?’
The desk buzzer gave another warning, but Senator Walter Burden was already through the door before the Secretary of State reached it for a personal welcome. Burden nodded in recognition to both Directors and said in advance of sitting down: ‘I want to know everything that’s happened! All the developments!’ The man was immaculate in a broad-striped suit and pink shirt: the tie and pocket handkerchief formed a matching combination. He sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards them intently: for no obvious reason he put on heavy reading glasses. He nodded, as if giving everyone in the room permission to speak.
‘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.
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