In the Name of a Killer by Brian Freemantle Page B

better. Glad to hear it. You look terrific. You too . Like Muzak played in supermarkets.
    ‘There’s a hell of a lot riding on this,’ said the Director in further warning.
    ‘I can imagine,’ said Cowley. Could he, he wondered.
    Eduard Ustenko was one of the new breed of Russian ambassadors, a professional product of perestroika reforms and the supposed Russian adoption of Western market philosophies: his university degree was actually in economics. He was always immaculately suited – usually in greys and blues – and always a sought-after guest on the Washington cocktail circuit, with a vivacious wife who managed to look as if she were dressed by a Paris couturier house, even if she wasn’t. The Style section of the Washington Post judged them the most popular diplomatic couple in the city.
    Today, dressed for the occasion, Ustenko wore dark, almost funereal, grey. Henry Hartz met him at the door of his office suite, as he had the CIA and FBI Directors earlier. As with the Directors he led the man to the easy chairs.
    ‘It’s a terrible tragedy,’ said Ustenko. ‘On behalf of my government I offer our deepest and most sincere regret. I intend extending that personally to Senator Burden and the unfortunate girl’s family.’
    ‘There should have been consultations before the girl’s apartment was entered,’ Hartz complained. He wondered how long it would take. And how difficult it would prove to be.
    ‘We would have also hoped for more cooperation towards our investigators when they visited your embassy. The entry and examination of the apartment was entirely consistent with a murder investigation. Every item removed for forensic examination has been listed.’
    ‘The apartment was sealed before the arrival of any of our officials,’ persisted Hartz. ‘We would expect an immediate copy of that list.’
    ‘I will pass that request on at once,’ promised Ustenko. ‘I can foresee no problems arising there.’
    Russia ten, America nil, scored Hartz. ‘You must understand our extreme concern at such a savage killing of an American citizen: an American diplomat?’
    ‘Particularly in the circumstances,’ said the politically aware ambassador.
    Hartz felt the perspiration start: he was glad it was only slight. He had intended immediately raising the offer of American technological assistance but quickly changed direction, to use Ustenko’s opening. ‘Senator Burden is an extremely influential politician here in Washington.’
    ‘I recognize that,’ Ustenko accepted. ‘He – and his views – are well known to me. Although not personally, of course.’
    ‘A man very aware and adept at domestic politics.’
    ‘That’s my belief.’
    ‘But sometimes, unfortunately, with stubbornly held and preconceived ideas which do not reflect the reality of current situations elsewhere in the world.’
    Ustenko nodded but said nothing this time.
    Hartz realized, uncomfortably, that he was teetering on the very edge of a diplomatic abyss. ‘Senator Burden’s particular influence is upon allocation of overseas aid.’
    The ambassador nodded again but still remained silent.
    ‘On the subject of aid, we are very sincere in our offer of any technological assistance that might be useful in tracking down the killer of Senator Burden’s niece.’
    ‘We appreciate that,’ said Ustenko, speaking at last. ‘I understand the Russian gratitude has already been officially expressed.’
    ‘Not having suffered the economic difficulties unfortunately experienced by your country in the last few years – difficulties you know we are anxious to alleviate – it’s conceivable that our law enforcement agencies have developed some quite unique techniques.’
    ‘Quite conceivable,’ agreed Ustenko.
    ‘I would like you to reiterate our offer to your government.’
    ‘I understand,’ said the ambassador, who did, completely.
    He was doing his best to disguise it but the anger was obvious as he thrust into the compound