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“Some kind of attack last night on a building inhabited by senior militia officers.”

“That was quick. I’m going to need a safe phone.”

“What about the one where you are?”

“Traceable.”

“Give me half an hour. I’ll send some men for you.”

By eleven Monk was installed in a small office in a warehouse full of contraband liquor. A telephone engineer was just finishing.

“It’s linked to two cutouts,” he said to Monk, gesturing at the phone. “If anyone tries to trace a call on it, they’ll end up in a café two miles away. It’s one of our joints. If they get past that, they’ll be led to a phone booth down the street. By then we’ll know.”

Monk started with the private number of General Nikolayev. A male voice answered.

“Give me General Nikolayev,” said Monk.

“Who is that?” asked the voice.

“I could ask the same thing.”

“The general is not available. Who are you?”

“General Malenkov, Defense Ministry. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, General. This is Inspector Novikov, Homicide Division, Moscow militia. I’m afraid General Nikolayev is dead.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“There was an attack. Last night. Burglars, it seems. Killed the general and his valet. Plus the dog. The cleaning woman found them just after eight.”

“I don’t know what to say. He was a friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry, General Malenkov. The times we live in …”

“Get on with your job, Inspector. I’ll tell the Minister.”

Monk put the phone down. So, Grishin had finally lost his head. It was what Monk had been working toward, but he cursed the obstinacy of the old general. Then he rang the headquarters of the GUVD in Shabolovka Street.

“Put me through to Major General Petrovsky.”

“He is busy. Who is that?” said the telephone operator.

“Interrupt him. Tell him it is about Tatiana.”

Petrovsky came on the phone ten seconds later. There was an edge of fear in his voice.

“Petrovsky.”

“It’s me, the late-night visitor.”

“Damn you, I thought something had happened to my child.”

“Are they both out of town, she and your wife?”

“Yes, miles away.”

“I believe there was an attack.”

Tags: Frederick Forsyth Thriller
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