Red Square - Martin Cruz Smith [108]
“Tommy,” Michael reminded him.
“Yes.” Gilmartin fixed Arkady with a stare. “Dark Ages, Renko. We’ve had trouble in the past. Murders, break-ins, bombings. You blew up our Czech section a few years back. Tried to stab our Rumanian chief to death in his garage. Electrocuted one of our nicest Russian contributors. But we never lost an American, and those were the days when we were admittedly CIA. Prehistoric. We’re funded by Congress now.”
“We’re a private corporation,” Michael said.
“Delaware, I believe. My point is, we’re not secret agents.”
“Tommy was an inoffensive guy,” Michael said.
“The most inoffensive guy I ever met,” Gilmartin said. “Besides, the days of rough stuff are supposed to be over, so what were you, a Soviet investigator, doing with Tommy when he died?”
Arkady said, “Tommy had a historical interest in the war against Hitler. He asked some questions about people I knew.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Gilmartin said.
“There’s a lot more to it,” Michael agreed.
“The station is like a family,” Gilmartin said. “We watch out for each other. I want to know the whole unvarnished story.”
“Such as?” Arkady asked.
“Was there sex involved? I don’t mean you and Tommy. I mean, were there women?”
Michael said, “The president means that if Washington goes through Tommy’s laundry, are they going to find dirt?”
Gilmartin said, “It doesn’t matter to them that prostitution is legal in Germany. American standards are set in Peoria. Even a hint of scandal here always brings accusations of corruption and high living.”
“And reductions in funding,” Michael said.
“I want to know everything you and Tommy did last night.” Gilmartin said.
Arkady took a moment to choose his words. “Tommy came to the pension where I was staying. We talked about the war. After a while I said I’d like some fresh air, so we got into his car and drove around. We did see a group of prostitutes on the highway. At that point I left Tommy and he drove alone back to the city. On the way he had an accident.”
“Did Tommy have sex with a prostitute?” Gilmartin asked.
“No,” Arkady lied.
“Did he talk to a prostitute?” Michael asked.
“No,” Arkady lied again.
“Did he talk to any Russians besides yourself?” Michael asked.
“No,” Arkady lied a third time.
“Why did you separate?” Gilmartin asked.
“I did want to see a prostitute. Tommy refused to stay.”
Michael asked, “How did you get back to Munich?”
“The police picked me up on the side of the road.”
“A sorry night on the town,” Gilmartin said.
“None of it was Tommy’s fault,” Arkady said.
Michael and Gilmartin exchanged looks that made a silent conversation; then the president lifted his eyes and considered the sky. “It’s awfully thin.”
“But if Renko sticks to it, it’s not bad. He’s Russian, after all. They’re not going to have a year to boil it out of him. And remember, Tommy drove an East German Trabant, not a very roadworthy car. That’s what we zero in on: the car was a death trap.” Michael patted Arkady on the back. “You’re probably lucky to be alive.”
“Losing Tommy must be a blow,” Arkady said to Gilmartin.
“More a personal tragedy. He wasn’t in any decision-making role. Research and translations, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Michael said.
“Though they’re important,” Gilmartin hastened to add. “Michael’s Russian is better than mine, but I think it’s fair to say that without our able translators the Russians on the staff would run amok.”
Gilmartin’s attention moved to his other concern. He pointed his pair of pliers at loose bolts that had rolled into a fold of the diagram. “Know anything about satellite dishes?” he asked Arkady.
“No.”
“I’m afraid I may have moved something out of alignment,” Gilmartin confessed.
“Sir, we’ll think about wind load, check the signal and make sure you didn’t damage any cable,” Michael said. “Looks like a good job.”
“Think so?” Reassured, Gilmartin stepped