The Kingmaker by Brian Haig

Author:Brian Haig
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Washington (D.C.), Moscow (Russia), Fiction - Psychological Suspense, Trials (Treason), Espionage, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Mystery & Thrillers, Legal, Fiction, Generals, Drummond, Audiobooks, Thrillers, Legal stories, Sean (Fictitious cha, Sean (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780446530552
Publisher: New York : Warner Books, c2003.
Published: 2003-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PUT TWO AND TWOtogether and we had a king-size problem. Those transcripted telephone taps Imelda was slogging through no doubt proved that Bill Morrison had a dick instead of a brain. Nothing else explained how the investigators learned Morrison was a flagrant philanderer. Or why Eddie included the comparatively minor imputation of wife cheating among the litany of other charges.

Motive, motive, motive. Damned hard to prove with traitors, and Eddie now had two golden-oldie classics--the proverbial favorites lust and greed. My client had screwed his way through an opponent's capital, and there was that fat wad of inheritance passed down from his father, and through his mother, a manner of money laundering that was both cunning and tax free.

I hate to sound like a whiny complainer, but it had been an all-around crappy day: an ambush, a dead American officer, an operation performed by a doctor named Josef Mengele, and now this. I thought it couldn't get worse until I recognized the guy loitering beside the elevator--the same detective who had unlocked my cuffs back in the police station. And beside him stood a slick-haired putz in a well-cut Western suit, looking smugly self-important.

They marched up to Katrina and me; the putz impudently shoved a business card in my face and announced, "I am Boris Ashinakov of the Foreign Ministry. I must have a word with you. In private."

We stepped away from the elevator and he led us to a quiet corner of the lobby. He began, "On behalf of my ministry I extend our deepest apologies for the shooting incident this morning. Moscow is a very peaceful city and we find it very distressing. And of course embarrassing."

Moscow was anything but peaceful, his politeness was phony, and I wondered what this was about. I smiled back, however, and very nicely replied, "Thank you. It's very kind of you to stop by. And, well, we'd love to stay and chat but we have to get upstairs to pack. A late flight . . . I'm sure you understand."

"Actually, Major, there's no hurry."

"And why would that be?"

He scratched an eyebrow, pointed at his partner, and said, "Detective Turpekov and his colleagues are continuing their investigation into this terrible incident. There are procedures that must be followed before this case can be closed. You two are the only living witnesses."

"Fine. I'll give you the number back in the States where we can be reached."

He shook his oily head. "I think not. We must request you to remain here."

"No."

He was grinning, and really enjoying himself, and it struck me I was becoming tired of power-hungry little bullycrats. He said, "I insist. Our customs officials have already been instructed not to let you out of the country. As long as nothing unexpected turns up, it shouldn't take longer than forty-eight hours."

"I don't have forty-eight hours."

"You do now." He smiled and stuck a pudgy finger on my chest. "Moscow is a lovely city filled with wonderful places to visit. What is it you say in America? Stop and smell the roses.

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