Free No Time for Heroes by Brian Freemantle Page A

given as Rue Calvin, Geneva. There’s quite a few documents in languages I can’t read; looks like bank or financial stuff.’
    There was another blaze of light from the media pack and Cowley turned to see two cars being allowed through the yellow tape by a uniformed patrolman. Rafferty and Johannsen were in the first, Brierly and Robertson in the second.
    â€˜Jesus!’ said Rafferty, nose wrinkled, as he joined them.
    Brierly was zipping up a protective all-in-one as he followed. He took a tube of highly mentholated emulsion from his examination bag, smearing it on his upper lip, directly beneath his nose, then offered it generally to the group. Cowley took some but the bear-like Robertson, who was wearing the same lumberjack workshirt of the previous day, shook his head. Rafferty said he wasn’t curious enough to want to look and Johannsen said he wasn’t, either.
    Cowley had never before seen a body in such an advanced state of putrefaction. It was grossly swollen and the skin had split within the constriction of the clothing. Most of the face and hands were black. The body lay on its back, with the legs twisted sideways and the arms tightly above the head, to fit into the trunk. The smell began to get past the barrier gel and Cowley backed away, his stomach bubbling. He kept the white smear of emulsion under his nose, not caring if he looked ridiculous, although he pointedly kept his back to the cameras when he returned to the upwind group. Hal Maine had briefed the two DC detectives during his absence.
    Johannsen said: ‘First Russian, now Swiss. And all in America. Could be a job for a UN peacekeeping force.’
    Cowley didn’t join in the professional cynicism. To Rafferty he said: ‘So where was Serov the night he was killed?’
    â€˜The French cafe near the Georgetown Mall,’ announced the man. ‘Waitress named Mary Ann Bell made a positive ID. Puts him there around six thirty, before the place properly filled up. Thinks he left around seven forty-five: she’s pretty definite about that, because that’s the time her shift ends and she handled the check.’
    â€˜Alone?’ queried Cowley.
    Johannsen shook his head, taking up the story. ‘One other guy. Foreign accent, although not like Serov’s. She remembers the second one better than Serov. The kid’s working her way through college, like they all are. She’s pretty: black hair and a tight ass. The guy came on strong and she was flattered. He promised to come back to see her again. She puts him around thirty, thirty-five. Says he dressed well: thinks it was a brown suit. Lightweight. Had a nice cologne. Good-looking guy.’
    Cowley indicated the Ford. ‘He’s wearing a brown suit.’
    â€˜Pity about the cologne,’ said Rafferty.
    â€˜Anything unusual while they were in the cafe?’
    There was another head shake from Johannsen. ‘When the second guy wasn’t trying to hit on Mary Ann there was a lot of head-together stuff. She says they were serious.’
    â€˜Serov had eaten fish, just before he died,’ reminded Rafferty. ‘The special that night was scrod. They both had it.’
    â€˜With a bottle of Californian chardonnay,’ completed Johannsen.
    The huge scientific co-ordinator lumbered back from the Ford. Behind him Cowley saw the masked technicians manoeuvring a black body bag into the boot.
    â€˜Lookee here!’ demanded Robertson, when he reached their group. The man held up a glassine bag with a brass shell casing in it.
    â€˜Makarov?’ asked Cowley.
    Everyone else looked between him and Robertson, without comprehension.
    Robertson said: ‘I’ll tell you within an hour of getting back.’
    Brierly followed immediately afterwards. He said the autopsy would be more difficult because of the decomposition but it looked like an exact copy of the first. Unless there were bone injury, it would be hard to find any