Face Me When You Walk Away (34 page)

Josef shook his head, unable to find words.

‘But you knew Medev would try, didn't you? Just as you knew you'd give in, if you stayed together much longer. And you thought you were there for life, after all. The risk had to be removed, hadn't it Josef?'

Josef just stared.

‘You always intended Medev to have the rope, to remove the threat. And you knew Balshev would take your tablets. That's why you let him know they were there. He had to be destroyed, just like the temptation in the camp. That was why you had to record the argument, to establish your innocence before you'd even been accused. It was easy for a trained psychologist to recognize Balshev's homosexuality, long before the tour began, wasn't it? That was what you objected to, not involving yourself in literary negotiations. You were frightened, weren't you Josef, just like you were at the camp, that it would become as big a temptation as it had been with Medev.'

The Minister paused, expecting Josef to speak, but the negotiator said nothing.

‘And then Endelman arrived and there was more than one homosexual,' resumed the Minister. ‘So you changed your attack upon Balshev. By throwing them together, you achieved two things. You hastened Balshev's destruction, certainly sexually, and you lessened the risk of either making an approach to you that you would have found difficulty in resisting. There was no surprise, finding them in bed, was there? That was inevitable. He's dead, incidentally.'

‘Who?'

‘Endelman. He took the one hundred per cent pure heroin you got from the doctor in Washington. Vladimirov made a full report about that, too. I thought, initially, you'd got it for Nikolai. Endelman took it, as you knew he would, not realizing its purity. I suppose you waited until you knew he had taken an injection, so he wouldn't question how you were able to return one envelope. Vladimirov's report contained the conversation you had with the embassy doctor. You were insistent, weren't you Josef, on knowing the effect of such a pure dose upon an addict? The doctor recalls telling you quite clearly it would kill. I didn't quite understand why you had to kill Endelman. Perhaps it was because he made you suffer and had to be punished. We mustn't forget your vindictiveness, must we?'

Josef was shaking his head, bemused. ‘Incredible,' he said, contemptuously. ‘Absolutely incredible.'

‘We bugged your apartment,' admitted Devgeny. ‘So I know what happened between you and your wife when you came back. It was easy to send her back, wasn't it Josef? Nikolai has told the doctor all about his seduction and how difficult it seemed for the marriage to be consummated. It was cruel, Josef, convincing the poor girl it was her fault, when all the time it was you. She'll always wear the guilt, Josef. And really the marriage was your experiment, just like those that Nikolai made. An attempt to he normal that went very wrong for you.'

‘You're insane,' judged Josef, finding the proper rejection difficult.

‘Was it hard, Josef, to walk away from that party in New York? You went too far that time, letting Nikolai get out with that young American, didn't you? If you made one mistake and let control get away, that was the moment. But once you got to that party, you wanted to stay, didn't you? You wanted to join in, like everyone else. You'll give in one day, you know, Josef.'

The negotiator felt the onset of that hollow feeling.

‘All the facts fit, don't they Josef? First Medev, then Nikolai, then Endelman. Every time you encounter someone with unnatural sexual tendencies, you have to react. It's a danger, so it has to be eradicated. I know it's your weakness, Josef. So I've won. Whenever I want to, I can use it. I can create the situations and expose you to the temptations and then wait until you finally give in and destroy yourself. And you'd have to kill yourself if you ever gave in, wouldn't you Josef?'

‘You're deranged, Devgeny,' said Josef, easily. ‘I
shall
produce this recording. I'll make it available to the committee, both as an example of your involvement with Illinivitch and of your insanity.'

He stood up, shutting off the machine and snapping the briefcase shut. He paused, once more, gazing down at the Minister and shaking his head, a pitying movement. Then he turned and moved to the door.

‘He's dead, Josef,' called Devgeny.

The negotiator hesitated, then stopped. ‘What?' he asked.

‘Medev, the man you loved. And who loved you. He died in the punishment block, where he was sentenced after the suicide attempt you set up. He went quite mad in the end. The only lucid thing was his hatred for you. They treated him very badly in the punishment section. You know the sort of things they do there. And he blamed you for it. It was the only thing he said before he died …'

Devgeny paused, then said, ‘Listen Josef.'

From the drawer he had indicated earlier, Devgeny produced a tape just like that which Josef had used before the inquiry. It was an old, scratchy recording. Devgeny turned the volume up, filling the room with noise. It wasn't human, decided Josef. No man could sound like that. It was an animal, a terrified animal, snared in a trap and screaming its agony. Then he caught it, indistinct at first and then clearer, over and over again.

‘… I hate him … I hate Josef …'

Josef walked unhurriedly from the Kremlin. It had snowed and it took him several minutes to clear it from his car. He drove slowly because of the weather conditions and got to within a mile of the apartment before he had to stop.

Carefully he parked the car and switched off the engine. It wasn't true, he knew. The recording was a fake. It had to be. Asher Medev would never have hated him, no matter what had happened. Josef began crying, great racking sobs pulling at his body. Not Asher. It just wasn't possible. Even though Josef had refused, he knew Asher had loved him.

A Biography of Brian Freemantle

Brian Freemantle (b. 1936) is one of Britain's most prolific and accomplished authors of spy fiction. His novels have sold more than ten million copies worldwide, and have been optioned for numerous film and television adaptations.

Born in Southampton, on the southern coast of England, Freemantle began his career as a journalist. In 1975, as the foreign editor at the
Daily Mail
, he made headlines during the American evacuation of Saigon: As the North Vietnamese closed in on the city, Freemantle became worried about the future of the city's orphans. He lobbied his superiors at the paper to take action, and they agreed to fund an evacuation for the children. In three days, Freemantle organized a thirty-six-hour helicopter airlift for ninety-nine children, who were transported to Britain. In a flash of dramatic inspiration, he changed nearly one hundred lives—and sold a bundle of newspapers.

Although he began writing espionage fiction in the late 1960s, he first won fame in 1977, with
Charlie M
. That book introduced the world to Charlie Muffin—a disheveled spy with a skill set more bureaucratic than Bond-like. The novel, which drew favorable comparisons to the work of John Le Carré, was a hit, and Freemantle began writing sequels. The sixth in the series,
The Blind Run
, was nominated for an Edgar Award for Best Novel. To date, Freemantle has penned fourteen titles in the Charlie Muffin series, the most recent of which is
Red Star Rising
(2010), which brought back the popular spy after a nine-year absence.

In addition to the stories of Charlie Muffin, Freemantle has written more than two dozen standalone novels, many of them under pseudonyms including Jonathan Evans and Andrea Hart. Freemantle's other series include two books about Sebastian Holmes, an illegitimate son of Sherlock Holmes, and the four Cowley and Danilov books, which were written in the years after the end of the Cold War and follow an odd pair of detectives—an FBI operative and the head of Russia's organized crime bureau.

Freemantle lives and works in London, England.

A school photograph of Brian Freemantle at age twelve.

Brian Freemantle, at age fourteen, with his mother, Violet, at the country estate of a family acquaintance, Major Mears.

Freemantle's parents, Harold and Violet Freemantle, at the country estate of Major Mears.

Brian Freemantle and his wife, Maureen, on their wedding day. They were married on December 8,1956, in Southampton, where both were born and spent their childhoods. Although they attended the same schools, they did not meet until after they had both left Southampton.

Brian Freemantle (right) with photographer Bob Lowry in 1959. Freemantle and Lowry opened a branch office of the
Bristol Evening World
together in Trowbridge, in Wiltshire, England.