The Case of the General's Thumb Read Online Free Page B

some other device, and after consulting his watch, placed both objects beneath the rocking-chair.
    â€œLike it louder?”
    The beat became deafening.
    â€œWhat is it?” Nik asked.
    â€œHuman heart.”
    The man was now in the kitchen, taking sausage from the fridge, after which he cut bread and made coffee.
    The prisoner meanwhile was rocking to and fro in a vain effort to free himself.
    â€œDon’t we get any coffee?” asked Ivan Lvovich.
    The young engineer produced a thermos. Ivan Lvovich poured, drank, then poured for Nik.
    â€œEnjoying it?”
    Bewildered, Nik shrugged.
    â€œTake a good look at that chap. That’s Sergey Vladimirovich Sakhno. Age thirty-three. Interesting type. Eventful life. Ex-sapper officer. Invalided out following death of his pregnant girlfriend. Psychologically dodgy. His prisoner had some involvement in the death of the girl. It’s the unborn baby’s heartbeat we’re hearing, courtesy of ultrasound scan. In my day a lock of hair in an envelope was sufficient. The new technology caters for any madness. – But hang on!”
    After a last look at the prisoner, Sakhno was on his way out, half-eaten sandwich abandoned on the table.
    â€œCan’t we go and defuse the damned thing?”
    â€œNo point.”
    â€œ
He’ll be killed, for God’s sake
!”
    â€œYes, because we’re not supposed to be here. The people who have brought this about are watching from a similar vehicle on the other side of the block. This isn’t our scene, and it’s time to be going.”
    At a gesture from him the monitors dimmed, and hiss and heartbeats gave way to an uneasy silence that was in contrast to Nik’s inner turmoil.
    â€œDid that have to happen?” he asked, as they sped back through the sleeping city.
    â€œHe was framed, like he said, but didn’t actually kill the girl. He was due to die for other reasons. Sakhno’s carried out the sentence. Why I said take a good look is because you’re shortly to meet and become friends. To which end, tomorrow evening you make a promising start by saving his life.”
    â€œA stage-managed rescue?”
    â€œNo, for real. With this one-off assignment, Sakhno becomes disposable. And disposability is not something I go for. The same applies to plastic forks, spoons and paper plates.”
    â€œSo I save his life, then what?”
    â€œYour work really starts. You get him away, lie low, then move on. Keeping yourself out of the picture, that’s the main thing. So long as you stay an unknown quantity, you’re safe.”
    They travelled on in silence through a cold, lifeless, indifferent city, through villages and the familiar forest.
    â€œSleep till eleven,” advised Ivan Lvovich as they parted.

9
    Viktor sat in his kitchen with the light off and moon enough to locate his teacup by.
    2.30 a.m. Not a sound, beyond the tick of the wall clock. Wife, daughter, city were asleep.
    He had, thanks to Reutmann, the pathologist, learnt a little more concerning General Bronitsky. Death had occurred lateish on May 20th, Bronitsky having dined well and drunk spirits. The stomach contents: partially digested cured fillet of sturgeon, salami, red caviar pancakes, suggested hurried consumption. The rope had been attached after death, the cause of which, at variance with the clean bill of health awarded by the General’s medical board on retirement, was a massive coronary thrombosis. Aged forty-seven, he had not been a heavy drinker, and enjoyed canoeing and hunting.
    Viktor next visited Bronitsky’s widow, with whom he sat and talked in homely fashion in the kitchen. Emotions well under control, she poured cognac and they drank to her husband’s memory. A source of grievance was the failure to release his body for burial, and Viktor promised to hurry things up.
    She answered his questions calmly, matter-of-factly.
    Her husband had no real friends. At Staff HQ