Countdown km-2 Read online

  “Yes” Kurshin replied, holding his impatience in check. Deryugin glanced at his partner. “We arranged to take a helicopter tour of the area this afternoon with a real estate firm. We found her at a farmhouse a few miles outside of the town, right along the river”

  “You actually saw her”

  “No. But the house is being guarded by at least three FBI agents.

  They’re even wearing their blue windbreakers with FBI stenciled on the back”

  “But you didn’t see her face”

  “No, Comrade. But she is there all right. I don’t think they are playin games. Kurshin thought about it for a moment or two, and then nodded.

  They were almost certainly correct. “Were you spotted”

  ” Yes. Kurshin waited for the explanation. “It won’t matter. Such flights are very common over the area. We were merely a pair of businessmen looking for investment property. Even if the FBI checks.

  “They will”

  “Yes, Comrade, when they check they will find that we work for Xavier Enterprises here in Washington. It is a blind company, of course. They will learn nothin “Excellent work, Yuri Ivanovich” Kurshin said. He glanced at his watch. It was just 7:30 in the evening. “Do you foresee any problem getting in there and killing her”

  tonight”

  The two field officers again exchanged glances. “No, Comrade”

  “Will you require more people”

  “No” Kurshin allowed a slight smile to play across his lips. He admired competence. If McGarvey wasn’t out there, and he didn’t think McGarvey was, they would succeed. “Do it” he said. The rezident was clearly agitated. Kurshin turned to him. “Do you have a problem with this, Boris Nikolaievich”

  “I have many problems, Comrade Colonel, which is part of my job. As far as killing an American citizen here on American soil, there will be repercussions, of course. There is no way of predicting how severe their countermeasures will be, but they will happen”

  “If it is traced back to us.”

  “It will be” Antipov said, not willing to back down. He too was very good at his job, and although he had an abiding respect and even fear of Kurshin, he had his own brief. Secretly he was one of the men within the KGB who thought Baranov was a madman and would someday bring them all down. Of course he never voiced his opinion … or at least not that one. Kurshin was beginning to lose his patience. “You have read the directive” Antipov nodded. “An extraordinary document”

  “Yeskurshin said coolly. Baranov had sent the directive ahead of him, giving Kurshin extremely broad powers and authority. In short he was not to be refused anything, anything at all.

  Not by the ambassador, and certainly not by the rezident. “There is a possibility that Xavier may already have been penetrates. “But we are not certain”

  “No.

  “Then no matter what happens, it would take the FBI time to connect our attack with the helicopter overflight and therefore Xavier and back to us”

  “In all probability, yes”

  “By then this mission will be once again off American soil” Kurshin said, giving his first hint that what was happening here in the Washington area was only a small part of a much larger and more important whole. Important enough to require the killing of Dr. Abbott.

  I “But I will not be” Antipov said softly. Kurshin’s eyes narrowed, causing the rezident to flinch, but still the man did not back down. “As you know, Comrade Colonel, Hammerhead is our most important source here in Washington at the moment” Antipov said. Second most important source, Kurshin thought, with out giving voice to the extraordinary secret Baranov had shared with him. He didn’t know the agent’s real name, only his code name and the fact he was of utmost importance. He merely nodded. “I will arrange, as you asked, for you to meet with him.

  But under the circumstances I do not believe this would be wise. “Why”

  “In all likelihood it would compromise not only us but him. “Imis meeting is extremely important, Comrade Antipov. Extremely important. I trust you passed my message to him”

  “Yes, but under the circumstances..”

  “What circumstances”

  Kurshin shot back dangerously. He had been out on the streets all day trying to get the flavor of the city. He had even walked past the White House, where he’d stood by the fence gazing at the seat of power. It had given him a chill, which he had found somehow annoying. Antipov opened one of the file folders in front of him and passed it down the table. “I take it that you have not seen a television or radio news broadcast this afternoon”

  “What is this” Kurshin asked, without looking down at the open file.

  “Transcripts of several news broadcasts. We monitor them on a daily basis, of course. These are from the six o’clock news programs. I think you should read them” Kurshin did not want to be trifled with. His failure in Germany still rankled. Nothing could go wrong this time.

  Nothing. He wouldn’t allow it. With a great effort of will he tore his eyes away from the rezident and began reading the transcripts, the top one from Peter Jennings’s ABC television report. After a few seconds he looked up. “The one they are talking about must be Hammerhead, Comrade Colonel” Antipov said. “They know” That wasn’t what had struck Kurshin.

  Another name leapt off the page at him. A name impossible to believe. He was back in the transporter. Nothing can stop it? Schey shook his head.

  Nein. Thank you. The pistol was coming up, Kurshin could feel it in his hands, the metal warm, smooth to the touch, the weapon comfortably heavy. Sure. He had shot the East German in the face. He could not have survived. “It is a lie” he mumbled. “Then it is a Lie extraordinarily damaging to their position, Comrade Colonel. With it they have given away their only advantage … that they suspect there is a penetration agent within the Pentagon. Kurshin went back to his reading, quickly scanning the text-English on the left, Russian on the right-through the rest of the ABC report as well as the half a dozen others that had been monitored. He was looking for one name other than Schey’s, but it wasn’t there. Nevertheless, he thought, looking up at last, this was McGarvey’s doing. Baranov had told him all about the man, about his early days with the CIA, about is Swiss girlfriend, about his parents and the ranch they had left him. Even Kurshin had thought it was incredibly callous of McGarvey to have sold off the property. The man was now living off the interest the money provided him. But land was far more important than money. “Have you an emergency contact procedure with Hammerhead” he asked. Relief showed on Antipov’s face. “Yes. I’ll make contact immediately. And I’m going to recommend that we pull him out of there before it is too late”

  “No” Kurshin said softly, a plan already forming in his mind. “But.

  “There are things here that you do not understand, Boris Nikolaievich.

  Important things. More important even than Hammerhead” Antipov threw up his hands in despair. “He has been a loyal source. We must pull him out”

  “Contact him immediately. Tell him that it is essential that we meet this evening, but that we will meet in another place”

  “I won’t do this the rezident started to say, realizing almost immediately that he had stepped over the line. “You will” Kurshin said gently, and he could read the surprise on Antipov’s face. “Yes, I’ll do as you say, Comrade Colonel” Antipov agreed. “But it is my duty to warn you that you may be walking into a trap. If this Dieter Schey has named our man, or at least given them the information they need to track him down, they will be waiting for you. Kurshin flipped the file folder closed and straightened up. He glanced at the two field officers. “You have your assignment”

  Both men got to their feet. “If there is any trouble, get out immediately. You have a usual route out of here”

  “Across the Mexican border” Deryugin said. “Dr. Abbott must die tonight.

  That is your top priority.

  There will be no other considerations. Do I make myself clear”
<
br />   “Perfectly, Comrade Colonel”

  “Go” Kurshin said, and the two men left the referentura. He turned back to Antipov. “You believe that this may be a trap”

  “Yes, I do”

  “Good, then let’s help them spring it” Kurshin said. “By the way, who is this Hammerhead”

  “He is an Air Force colonel. Works directly for the Joint Chiefs as a weapons strategist. He knows every single weapon within the American military system. All services”

  “A gold seam”

  “Yes” Antipov said. “It’s a shame” Kurshin mumbled, but didn’t say any more.

  BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL

  “There are eight officers and two civilians on the list of suspects” McGarvey said as he and Potok took the elevator up to the fourth floor. “If they are watched too closely, Feliks will either skip or dig in, and we will have lost. “I agree, but you are taking a very large risk, making such an announcement and then pulling off all surveillance” Potok said. “We don’t know if Kurshin will make contact” McGarvey looked at him. “He will, but first he’ll come here to take care of Schey. He made a mistake with the Pershing, and another with Schey. He’ll come to finish the job. “And we will be waiting for him”

  if I’m alive, if at all possible” Potok shrugged. “From what I’ve learned about this man, I don’t think that will be so easily accomplished”

  “We’ll try” They were met at the nurses’ station by Dr. Julius Rabbinoux, the naval physician in charge of the ICU where the East German rocket scientist was being kept. He was a darkhaired, thick-eyebrowed little man with a swarthy complexion and piano player’s hands. “Are you the jackasses responsible for pulling off the security people from this floor” he said without preamble when McGarvey showed his FBI identification. “Just the replacements, Doctor. How is he doing tonight” The doctor stared at them for a long time. When he spoke his head bobbed up and down as if he were a boxer waiting to slip a blow.

  “Stable, but not much change”

  “Has he regained consciousness”

  “There are moments” the doctor said.

  “He’s still alone in there, no other patients; I assume that’s still the drill”

  “Yes, it is. But I’m going to be up front with you, Doctor. There may be trouble coming our way tonight” Dr. Rabbinoux bridled. “Then I’ll have the Marines up here right now..”

  “No” McGarvey said. “That’s not going to be possible. But you may pull your staff off this floor”

  “I don’t know what kind of goddamned stunts you people are pulling, but this is as far as it goes” the doctor snapped. “I’m getting my security people up here on the double” McGarvey took a pen from the doctor’s pocket and reached out for the clipboard he carried. He jotted a number across the top of the patient report form and handed the clipboard back.

  “Do you recognize this number”

  “No, should I”

  “It’s the White House” Crap.

  C i sai It was the number Trotter had given him. The doctor’s eyes widened. He finally nodded. “I’ll make that call” he said. “In the meantime I want you to stay out of the ICU”

  “Make the call, Doctor, and then get your people off this floor. Dr.

  Rabbinoux turned and stalked down the empty corridor. The two nurses behind the desk turned away and suddenly busied themselves. “We’ll lock the elevator out as soon as the floor is cleared” McGarvey said softly.

  “Check the east stairs, I’ll take the west” Potok nodded and headed down the corridor. McGarvey went to the opposite stairwell, opened the door, and looked down into the well. it was quiet, and smelled of cement dust and a faint hospital odor. “Come on” he told himself. “He’s here and waiting for you” Taking the stairs two at a time, he went down to the third floor and looked out on the corridor as a nurse was just turning the far corner. This was one of the recovery wards. Kurshin, when he came, would be passing this way, he suspected. Another visitor to see a friend. He was called the chameleon. He would blend in. Closing the door, he again listened for sounds, any sounds, as he pulled out his gun and checked the load, but there was nothing. Potok had brought the gun over with him and had handed it over at the Georgetown house.

  “Not a very good weapon, I think” the Israeli said. it was a Walther PPK, lightweight, flat, reasonably accurate and fairly jam proof. At one time it had been the weapon of preference in the British Secret Intelligence Service. McGarvey had selected it as a young man because he had had a feeling for the traditions of the business. By the time he understood it wasn’t the best choice, he had become too proficient with it to change. It was an old friend. “Not an assassin’s gun”

  that line of thinking any further. He hurried back up the stairs and reentered the fourth-floor corridor as Potok was coming from the east stairwell. He was shaking his head. “Nothing. It was a little after nine. “It’s too early yet. He’ll wait until the hospital settles down for the night”

  “Unless he’s coming in as a visitor” Potok said. “He could be in the building already”

  “I don’t think so” Potok looked at him closely, but said nothing. He was professional enough to respect another professional’s hunch. One of the nurses had left, the other was behind the counter. She put down the telephone. “Who else is on this floor tonight” McGarvey asked her. Her name tag read LEVIN. “Patients”

  “Yes. “Only ICU-4A” she said. Schey’s name had never been used, only his bed number in the fourth-floor ICU.

  The other patients had been moved at the request of the FBI. The hospital director had not liked it, but he had gone along. Dr. Rabbinoux got off the elevator a minute later. He didn’t look happy. He motioned toward the elevator. “They need you in Six-ICU, stat” he told the nurse.

  “What about … “

  “I’ll stay with him” the doctor snapped. She gathered up her purse, came around the counter, and took the elevator up. “Maybe you should have gone with her, Doctor” McGarvey said. “He’s my patient”

  “As you wish” McGarvey replied. He recalled the elevator and, using the key he’d been supplied with, locked the car from opening on this floor.

  All that was left were the stairwell doors, both of which could be seen from the glass doors that led into the ICU.

  “I don’t want you endangering him” Dr. Rabbinoux said. “Believe me, Doctor, we’re just as interested in keeping him alive as you are. But I’d like to see him. You can be right there with me”

  “I don’t know who he is, nor do I want to know “He is an East German, Doctor, who worked for the KGB. He and his two friends hijacked a nuclear missile from one of our bases in Germany, reprogrammed it to strike a spot in Israel, and nearly succeeded in firing it”

  “Jesus Christ” Dr. Rabbinoux said, half closing his eyes. “Did you shoot him”

  “One of his friends did it. The KGB. It’s how they operate. “They’re coming here? The KGB? To finish the job”

  “We think so”

  “Sick. All you bastards are sick”

  “You’re wearing the uniform, Doctor, or had you forgotten” Dr. Rabbinoux wanted to make a sharp retort, but he held himself in check.

  “No” he said finally. “I have not”

  “May I see him now”

  “Yes. I I “Watch the stairwells” McGarvey told potok. The lsraell too wanted to protest, but he understood the validity of McGarvey’s order, and he nodded.

  ALEXANDRIA

  Trotter sat in his study, the lights out, the door to the living room open so that he could hear the Mahler symphony playing on the stereo system. He was drinking a glass of white Zinfandel and smoking his first cigarette in seven months. There had been times in his long career, waiting for the telephone to ring like now, that he had wished for something to happen. His call to arms, as he termed it.

  Action was better ary. This time, however, he wanted nothing to happen.

  At least not yet. Was he getting old? Slowing
down? Or had he simply become more of a realist who understood that in this dangerous world no news was almost always good news? The telephone rang, and it was a mark of his expectations that he didn’t flinch. He finished his wine, put the glass down, and picked up the telephone on the third ring. “Yes”

  “This is Special Agent Tom Sills, I have been authorized to call this number”

  “Yes, go ahead” Trotter said, keeping his voice even. His heart was beginning to accelerate. “You know who I am and where I’m calling from, sir”

  “Yes, I do”

  “Well, sir, we’ve got a possible situation developing out here. I thought I’d better give you a call”

  “Is the house secure”

  “Yes, sir, for the moment. But we were overflown three times this afternoon by a civilian helicopter operated by Bekins Real Estate in Alexandria. A team went out there to talk with the pilot, who told us that he had shown some property to two men from Xavier Enterprises, a Washington company-“

  “Go ahead”

  “Sir, that company is flagged by our Counter Intell people. It’s a Russian front organization. Most likely KGB”

  “Damn” Trotter swore half to himself. “You say the property and the subject are secure”

  “Yes, sir”

  “Just hold on, I’ll come out there myself. Should be able to make it within the hour”

  “Shall I call for help”

  “Not yet. Just keep your eyes open”

  “Will do, sir” Trotter broke the connection and dialed the Georgetown House number McGarvey had been given as a contact. “Trotter” he said when the man answered it. “Run down McGarvey and Potok. Tell them there may be something developing at Falmouth. I’m on my way down there now”

  THE PENTAGON

  The joke was that Lt. Col. Bob Rand was at forty one the world’s oldest computer hacker. But of the nonmalicious variety. Once, on an evening two years ago, a number of his friends were at his house in Arlington Heights when he tapped into the bank’s computer system for a captain from the Strategic Planning Pool. With a few touches of his keys he transferred an even one million dollars into the captain’s checking account. For a few hours the captain was rich. In the morning, before the bank reopened, Rand retransferred the money out of his account, leaving the bank officials in happy ignorance. In the main, however, Rand was a loner, had always been a loner, taking his solace in his studies. He had become, at Force, a rank which ten years later he still held, not because he didn’t deserve a promotion but because his superiors understood that Rand was in the perfect job. To promote him would be to lose him. He had always been a man with a bitter edge. The world had passed him by in looks-he was very short, with a thin, almost emaciated torso, a ridiculously oversized head, and watery, myopic eyes-it had passed him by with women who would not look twice at him-and even the Air Force had passed him by with promotions. But he had become a defector in the beginning not because of any dislike for his own government, but merely for, he liked to think, the ultimate in hacking.