Free In the Name of a Killer by Brian Freemantle

free. No walls or locked doors, keeping him in. He’d walk tonight. But not near the Intourist Hotel. There were prostitutes hanging around the Intourist Hotel. Didn’t want to meet any prostitutes.

Chapter Six
     
    Danilov was later than he expected getting back to Militia headquarters. He’d let Pavin take the pool car, to get everything back to headquarters for forensic examination, and he’d delayed himself further telephoning Larissa. There was another man with Lapinsk when Danilov entered the Director’s office. Danilov instantly identified the uniform and the shoulder-boards of rank.
    ‘Lieutenant-Colonel Kir Gugin,’ introduced Lapinsk.
    ‘Formerly KGB, now of the Agency for Federal Security,’ added the man, as if his authority needed emphasis. He was fat and swarthy with the mottled red face of some physical condition, blood pressure perhaps. ‘We’ve been waiting a long time,’ he added, complaining.
    The curbs and disbandments throughout the organization after the failed coup of 1991 had done nothing to diminish the arrogance, reflected Danilov. ‘I’m involved in an investigation.’ Had Gugin waited to announce his takeover?
    ‘Anything I should know?’ demanded Lapinsk, anxiously. The General was a grey man – grey faced, grey hair, grey suited – and had the slightly tired attitude of someone gratefully declining into retirement. Danilov thought Lapinsk looked very much the grandfather he was: there were two framed photographs on the desk of Lapinsk’s daughter, with her two sons. On the wall behind the man there were larger photographs of the devastation of Stalingrad and a separate picture of a very young Lapinsk, in army uniform. The man had survived the entire siege of 1942 as a corporal in Chuikov’s 62nd Army and was justifiably proud.
    ‘She’d had sex. But she hadn’t been raped: Novikov is adamant about that. We’ve taken from her apartment a rack of kitchen knives. One that could have caused the wound that killed her is missing.’
    ‘There’s been a second, more forceful protest from the Americans claiming that you broke into the apartment,’ said Gugin. He didn’t know how, not yet, but there were very definitely some benefits to be manipulated here.
    ‘I did not break in,’ retorted Danilov. He was determined against being intimidated by the KGB officer: certainly one of lesser rank. ‘We’ve managed to conduct a reasonably thorough forensic examination, which we would not have been able to do otherwise.’
    Lapinsk sighed at the squabbling. His ulcer began to nag. ‘What’s the significance of the sex and the knife? That she knew her killer?’
    ‘I’m not attaching any special significance: merely telling you what might be important. I’m getting Novikov’s written report tomorrow. I need to compare that with the verbal account.’
    ‘Have you considered the political aspects of this?’ demanded Gugin. ‘It could mean that this woman knew a mass murderer: that he could even be American!’
    Danilov looked for guidance towards Lapinsk, who said: ‘I had to explain everything at the Ministry.’
    Danilov’s tiredness was worsening: his concentration kept ebbing and flowing so that sometimes he heard quite clearly what the other two men were saying and at other times could hardly hear them at all. ‘What else is there from the Foreign Ministry?’
    ‘The relation, the Congressman, has been in direct contact with the American ambassador, who’s sought a meeting,’ said Lapinsk. ‘The man is apparently important. We’re being inundated with demands for information from the Western media. There’s an offer from Washington of technological and scientific help …’
    ‘Which means they despise our investigatory capacity!’ Gugin broke in. After the organization’s most recent problems, it was going to be important to distance the KGB from any dangerous criticism.
    It was difficult for Danilov to hold a thought but again he wondered why the KGB