The Gods' Gambit by David Lee Marriner Page A

non-Sumerian
signs?”
    “You’re talking about those two symbols?”
    The superintendent nodded.
    “I’d define them as an afterthought of the killers’
imagination,” said James.
    “This may give us clue about who they are.”
    “Bear in mind that these people imitate a culture which both
we and they will never actually know about in full. This is why they may feel
compelled to make up their own additions to the ritual. They may even use their
own interpretations of the old symbolism.”
    “I’ll leave it in your hands. You’re doing good job. I’ll
wait for your report,” said the superintendent.
    “Let me first check my theory against the last lab tests and
the autopsy results.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    Still feeling excited from her rapid driving, Irina Bellin,
a detective from the Bulgarian Interpol Bureau, rushed into MI5’s building in
Brighton. She had covered the distance from London almost twice as fast than if
she had driven in accord with the speed limit. She was late for her meeting
with superintendent Peter Oliver and she blamed her delay on the bureaucracy of
the British security services. They needed hours to acquire extra verification
and prepare the necessary papers before she could begin the new mission she had
been assigned to by Interpol.
    The police officer at the entrance of the building knew
about her arrival and directed her immediately to the second floor, where
superintendent Peter Oliver was waiting for her.
    Rather than waiting for the lift, Irina quickly climbed the
back stairs, finally reaching the almost deserted office space she had been
told to report to. The standard working shift had ended two hours before and
only a skeleton staff of the scientific department remained on duty. Irina knew
that some members of staff were only working overtime because of the importance
of the Costov case. Stefan Costov had worked on some significant research
projects financed by the US government. His murder had startled a number of
high-ranking politicians and executives in Washington. She knew that officers
from the US State Secretary’s department had already contacted the British
security services about his death.
    The superintendent’s office was at the end of a corridor
right next to the crime lab.  As Irina walked along the corridor, two
young men dressed in suits stopped chatting and stared at her. She was aware of
the effect she had on men. She was an attractive woman with a curvaceous and
athletic body, and she also refused to conform to the usual decorous office
dress code. However, the coldness of her look as she met their eyes seemed to
embarrass the men and they soon looked away and began to chat between
themselves again.
    She knocked on the superintendent’s door and entered without
waiting to be called in. Peter Oliver jumped up in surprise, reaching out
across his untidy desk to shake her hand. He quickly offered her a chair.
    “I’m sorry you’ve had to stay late because of me,” Irina
apologized.
    “Not at all,” replied the superintendent. “I’ve not been
spending more than four hours a day at home recently. Just about enough time
for the kids not to forget me! I’ve not really been briefed fully about the
reason for your visit. What can I do for you?”
    Irina rolled her eyes in disbelief that the superintendent
hadn’t been briefed properly in spite of the problems she had experienced
getting security clearance. “It’s not just a visit. I’ve been instructed to
work with you and your people on the Stefan Costov case.”
    The superintendent cast a surprised sideways glance at her.
“With all due respect, that isn’t possible,” he replied. “The case is
completely under the jurisdiction of my department, but of course we’ll
collaborate.”
    “Well, the jurisdiction on the case has recently been
expanded. Interpol has become involved and that’s why I’m here.” She took an
envelope from her handbag and handed it to him. “Here’s the