“She’s in a hurry, obviously,” Carter said carefully. “As to her state of mind, I’m guessing you’ll ask her about that. I do know she had a train to catch.”
“I’m no expert in running in stilettos, but I’m thinking you’d avoid going jogging in them whenever possible.” He directed the comment at Silvia.
“What are you looking at me for?” she said frostily.
Schneider turned back to Carter, who made a point of calming and meeting his gaze. “Can’t say I’ve ever run in stilettos, but Nika wears them most days, so if anyone can…”
Schneider shrugged. “Just building a picture.” He slid another photo across. “Next we have a still from a security camera captured down the street from the safehouse, around the back of a newsstand kiosk, a few minutes later. Looks like the same woman cleaning her shoes, don’t you think?”
“Another question for her. I assume thepolitsiyasupplied this footage? Not usually a trusted source for us.”
“You’ll see the still is timecoded,” Schneider said, ignoring the query. “Where were you at that time, out of interest?”
Carter narrowed his eyes at the numbers. “That would have been the folk dance show with my tour group. Check the itinerary.”
“We have. We’ve also checked with some of your tour group, and they say you weren’t sitting in the theater with them.”
“I’ve seen that show twenty times. I took a taxi to the little office we keep in Moscow to take care of some paperwork—CIA paperwork. Given that I’d just lost my best agent, I had some things to take care of.”
“Anything to confirm you were there?” Silvia said, sounding hopeful. “Anyone see you? Security camera footage?”
“We don’t make it obvious when we’re coming and going.”
“The people in the tour group—they said you and Elena were obviously a couple.”
He shrugged.
“Next we have a photo of a pistol, fitted with a silencer,” Schneider said, slapping another photo onto the growing pile in front of Carter. “Do you recognize this?”
“A P96—commonly used in the police and security firms in Russia.”
“To your knowledge, did Elena own or have access to a weapon like this?”
“Far as I know, she’s never even fired a weapon. In Russia, regular people rarely own guns. If she was caught with one, it could have blown her cover, and she would have known that.”
“So if I told you that this was found in her apartment?”
“Areyou telling me that?”
Schneider exhaled impatiently. “Local police found this very weapon in Elena’s apartment. Same caliber as the bullets and casings at the crime scene. Russian forensics will be able to tell us in the next few days if they’re an exact match.”
“We’re relying on Russian forensics now?”
“By necessity, our embassy is working closely with local authorities. Of course, officially the deceased was a public affairs officer with the embassy, and not CIA, and we’ve had to suggest to the police that it’s a love affair gone sour, but even so, the murder of a U.S. diplomat is a big deal. Lot of people having a lot of meetings.”
“You think the Russians suspect there’s more to it? That’s if they weren’t involved.”
“Of course they suspect. Our guys have said they have no idea of the identity of the mystery woman, but it’s a matter of time before they figure out who she is. We just gotta hope they believe that her motive was, uh, personal.”
“So you’re misdirecting them? Gonna make it hard for them to catch the real killer, if they even want to.”
“Are we though?” Schneider waved at the laptop screen, which was now dark. “Looks pretty open and shut.”
“Because you’re making it look like that. There are a dozen other possibilities.”
“And only one person caught on camera, and only one weapon found.”
“Any prints on the weapon?”
