photograph the weapon test
site.
Time was a further problem. Sokolov checked his desk calendar; there were just three weeks to go before the implementation date of Podstava . Three weeks in which to review the records of
twenty-one high-ranking officers of the GRU and SVR, many of whom were personal friends, looking for a single anomaly, a single fact or indication that might suggest that the man’s loyalty
could be questioned. In fact, including Modin and himself, there were twenty-three officers indoctrinated into the project. There was also Minister Trushenko, but neither he nor Modin had the
authority to investigate him.
Sokolov pressed the intercom button and ordered more of the strong black tea that he enjoyed. Then he picked up the draft action plan he had agreed with General Modin and glanced over it.
Telephone taps were in place on the home and office telephone lines of all twenty-one officers – that, no doubt, was a complete waste of time, as only an idiot would use his own telephone to
pass classified information to a foreign power or agent. Mail intercepts had also been ordered, but again Sokolov had no illusions about the likely results of that. If there was a traitor, Sokolov
was sure that the only way he could be detected would be through physical surveillance, by watching where he went and whom he talked to or passed close to in the street or stood next to. The
watchers were assigned and ready, and that, apart from scanning the personal files again, was about all that could be done.
The door opened and Sokolov’s aide entered, carrying a tray of tea and sweet biscuits, which he placed in front of the general. Sokolov nodded his thanks and picked up the next file. He
glanced at the name on the cover – ‘Bykov’ – then opened it and looked down at the full-face photograph of a sharp-featured man wearing an artillery officer’s
uniform.
Hammersmith, London
Simpson stood up and walked to the window overlooking the Hammersmith flyover. His small pink hands fussed among the cacti for a minute or so, a sure sign that his mind
was on other things, and then he walked back to his desk and sat down. ‘Explain,’ he snapped.
‘First, the body,’ Richter replied. ‘The head injuries were extremely severe, even for a high-speed, head-on collision. According to the Russian authorities, the car ran into
the back of a parked truck at about fifty miles an hour, but the other injuries to the body don’t gel. From the condition of the car, the driver must have sustained lower-limb damage if his
right foot was on the brake pedal at the moment of impact. I can conceive of no circumstance in which a driver, knowing that a collision was imminent, would remove his feet from the pedals. His
natural instinct would be to brake, and keep on braking—’
‘Unless he was suicidal,’ Simpson interrupted.
‘Yes, but in that case, his foot would almost certainly be on the accelerator. Same difference. No apparent arm injuries, either. And the fire that followed the crash conveniently burnt
the body’s hands and forearms, obliterating the fingerprints. No, the whole thing stinks. The injuries are certainly consistent with the damage caused to the car, but with the proviso that
the driver was unconscious at the time of impact.
‘As far as I can see, the only way the body could have received those injuries was by being strapped into the car, feet placed on the floor and hands and arms lying limp or perhaps on the
lap. And another thing; when I was examining the corpse, Erroll pointed out a line of light bruising running across the chest, about six inches below the shoulders. At the time, I didn’t know
what had caused it, but I worked it out on the flight back.’
‘What was it?’ Simpson asked.
‘When they put the man in the car, he was still alive, but unconscious. The seats on the Lada that Newman owned were very upright, and I think they found that he slumped forward instead of
sitting
site.
Time was a further problem. Sokolov checked his desk calendar; there were just three weeks to go before the implementation date of Podstava . Three weeks in which to review the records of
twenty-one high-ranking officers of the GRU and SVR, many of whom were personal friends, looking for a single anomaly, a single fact or indication that might suggest that the man’s loyalty
could be questioned. In fact, including Modin and himself, there were twenty-three officers indoctrinated into the project. There was also Minister Trushenko, but neither he nor Modin had the
authority to investigate him.
Sokolov pressed the intercom button and ordered more of the strong black tea that he enjoyed. Then he picked up the draft action plan he had agreed with General Modin and glanced over it.
Telephone taps were in place on the home and office telephone lines of all twenty-one officers – that, no doubt, was a complete waste of time, as only an idiot would use his own telephone to
pass classified information to a foreign power or agent. Mail intercepts had also been ordered, but again Sokolov had no illusions about the likely results of that. If there was a traitor, Sokolov
was sure that the only way he could be detected would be through physical surveillance, by watching where he went and whom he talked to or passed close to in the street or stood next to. The
watchers were assigned and ready, and that, apart from scanning the personal files again, was about all that could be done.
The door opened and Sokolov’s aide entered, carrying a tray of tea and sweet biscuits, which he placed in front of the general. Sokolov nodded his thanks and picked up the next file. He
glanced at the name on the cover – ‘Bykov’ – then opened it and looked down at the full-face photograph of a sharp-featured man wearing an artillery officer’s
uniform.
Hammersmith, London
Simpson stood up and walked to the window overlooking the Hammersmith flyover. His small pink hands fussed among the cacti for a minute or so, a sure sign that his mind
was on other things, and then he walked back to his desk and sat down. ‘Explain,’ he snapped.
‘First, the body,’ Richter replied. ‘The head injuries were extremely severe, even for a high-speed, head-on collision. According to the Russian authorities, the car ran into
the back of a parked truck at about fifty miles an hour, but the other injuries to the body don’t gel. From the condition of the car, the driver must have sustained lower-limb damage if his
right foot was on the brake pedal at the moment of impact. I can conceive of no circumstance in which a driver, knowing that a collision was imminent, would remove his feet from the pedals. His
natural instinct would be to brake, and keep on braking—’
‘Unless he was suicidal,’ Simpson interrupted.
‘Yes, but in that case, his foot would almost certainly be on the accelerator. Same difference. No apparent arm injuries, either. And the fire that followed the crash conveniently burnt
the body’s hands and forearms, obliterating the fingerprints. No, the whole thing stinks. The injuries are certainly consistent with the damage caused to the car, but with the proviso that
the driver was unconscious at the time of impact.
‘As far as I can see, the only way the body could have received those injuries was by being strapped into the car, feet placed on the floor and hands and arms lying limp or perhaps on the
lap. And another thing; when I was examining the corpse, Erroll pointed out a line of light bruising running across the chest, about six inches below the shoulders. At the time, I didn’t know
what had caused it, but I worked it out on the flight back.’
‘What was it?’ Simpson asked.
‘When they put the man in the car, he was still alive, but unconscious. The seats on the Lada that Newman owned were very upright, and I think they found that he slumped forward instead of
sitting
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