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  “If only it were that easy I’d say yes”

  Trotter shook his head and glanced again at the other diners. “I don’t know if we’ll ever really stop the man in that sense. It’s become a continual mop-up operation. You know how it is”

  ” Yes, I do” McGarvey said pointedly. “So what’s the sonofabitch up to this time”

  “We don’t know. Leastways not for sure yet. But we need your help”

  “Why” The direct question startled Trotter but he recovered nicely.

  “We’re in over our heads, I don’t mind admitting that. And you know Baranov better than any man on our side of the fence. His habits, his methods, the way his mind works”

  “And your people are spotted”

  “Yes. “And if I start after him, it might draw him out. I’d be bait.

  Trotter nodded. He opened his briefcase and took out a thin file folder.

  He handed it across and relatched his briefcase. McGarvey opened the file folder which contained a summary of a KGB officer, with several photographs, one of them a head shot, the others obviously obtained in the field. The man was tall, goodlooking in an athletic sort of a way, with deep eyes that even in the photographs seemed cold, distant, and very professional. “Formerly a Department Viktor hit man. One of the best. Baranov took him under his wing just after he returned to Moscow from the Powers thing, and the man has been busy. I’ve included a summary of his … feats. “Who is he”

  “He’s been called the chameleon, because he can be or do damned near everything. His real name is Arkady Aleksandrovich Kurshin. “What’s he done now that has you coming here to me”

  “We tracked him as far as Marseille, and it looked as if he was getting set to come up here. “But”

  “He killed two of our people and then disappeared. Not a trace”

  “He’s come out to do something for Baranov”

  “Presumably. Baranov was spotted two weeks ago in East Berlin, at the same time, we believe, this Kurshin was there. “One man …” McGarvey mused. “One man” Trotter said. “He has us worried because he’s … an assassin. The very best in the business. And when a man like him goes on the move, and then disappears, it gets us all worried. Find him, Kirk.

  Stop him. Find out what he’s up to. And quickly”

  ABOARD THE TRANSPORTER

  Arkady Kurshin was just a little surprised that they had actually gotten this far, though he was professional enough not to show it. “Trust in me, Arkasha” Baranov had told him warmly that night in East Berlin. Kurshin could almost trust in the man, though at this moment he knew that he was closer to death than he’d ever been in his life. He had little doubt that they would be able to pull this off, but it was afterward that weighed on his mind. Their escape. It was typical of Yegorov not to care, not to look beyond the immediacy of the situation, and the East German was such a cold fish that it was impossible ever to tell what he was thinking. But Kurshin worried about the future … his future.

  They were racing down the autobahn, heading north at eighty miles per hour. It had been nearly twenty minutes since the missile bay doors had rumbled open and still no one had come after them, nor had Ramstein Missile Control answered their query. Traffic was heavy, but no one passed them, so that the road ahead was clear. The speed limit even on an autobahn, this close to a city, was 120 kilometers per hour, which was about 75 miles per hour. On the opposite side of the median strip, southbound traffic moved at a normal rate. The sight of a missile transporter on the highway was nothing unusual. Germans had seen it often. “Whiz Bang, this is Flybaby Six-P-Twokurshin radioed again.

  Yegorov motioned toward the skyward radar. “We’ve got company” he said tersely. The radar showed two strong targets incoming from the base, flying low and relatively slow. They were helicopters, Kurshin figured.

  He was about to key the microphone when the radio blared. “Flybaby Six-P-Two, this is Whiz Bang. Colonel, what in hell are you doing”

  “Who is this speaking” Kurshin asked calmly. “For Christ’s sake, stand down immediately. Do you realize what you’re toting around out there”

  “I repeat” Kurshin radioed. “Who am I speaking to” There was a pause.

  “This is Whiz Bang, god damnit. Officer of the Day, Captain Gerry Stewart. And I repeat, Sir, stand down. Pull over to the side of the road immediately. Kurshin glanced again at the tiny radar screen. The two blips appeared to be directly behind them. He keyed the radio.

  “Listen closely now, Captain Stewart, because I’m not going to repeat myself, and there are a lot of lives at stake here, so I don’t want you making any mistakes. Are you ready to copy” Again the radio was silent for a long second or two. “We’re coming up on our turn, Yegorov said beside him.

  “Slow it down a little” Kurshin replied, keeping his eye on the radar screen. “You’ve hijacked a missile” Captain Stewart radioed shakily.

  “Do you know what that means? And Major Mccann. He’s dead”

  “Yes” Kurshin radioed back. “At this moment there are two aircraft just behind us, I assume they’re helicopter gunships. Tell them to back off immediately”

  “Negative” the OD shouted. “Pull over immediately, or we will destroy your transporter” Kurshin smiled slightly. “I don’t think you’re going to want to do that, Captain, even if those aircraft were capable of it.

  We have placed fifteen pounds of plastique explosives around the body of the missile itself, twenty-four inches forward of the recessed flight vanes. If you know that missile, you will realize that should the plastique explode, it will spread the warhead’s fissionable material over quite a large area. There was no answer, nor did the blips move off. “We have control of the explosives from within the tractor, and we mean to fire them in the next twenty seconds unless you do exactly as I tell you” Again there was no answer. “The clock starts now” Kurshin said, and he sat back in his seat. He looked over at Yegorov who glanced nervously at him. “They’re not going to risk trying to take us now”

  Kurshin said. Yegorov smiled thinly. “They’re damned fools if they don’t, considering the alternatives”

  “Who the hell is this” another voice blared from the radio. “Your worst nightmare” Kurshin radioed back. “Fifteen seconds. “Pull over now, or I’ll give the order to blow your ass all over the highway”

  “Asses” Kurshin corrected. “There are three of us in control of this missile, and we’re about to take the next exit ramp. Ten seconds”

  “This is Colonel Robert Collingwood, chief of Ramstein Security. And you listen to me, you bastard, I’m giving you five seconds to pull over or we’ll blow you away”

  “Seven seconds” Kurshin spoke calmly into the microphone. Yegorov was downshifting, the big rig slowing, their exit. barely half a kilometer away. “Five seconds” Kurshin said. “Four Three … Two …”

  “There” Yegorov shouted in triumph. Kurshin’s eyes flicked to the radar screen in time to see the two targets peeling off left and right and gaining altitude. He breathed his first sigh of relief and glanced over his shoulder at Schey whose expression had not changed, his thumb over the electronic trigger for the explosives. That one, he thought, would just as easily flip the switch he was holding as he would a light switch. But then, what good was a threat unless you meant to carry it out? “Thank you, Colonel Collingwood” Kurshin radioed. “Your transporter has a range of less than one hundred fifty kilometers, so you’re not going to get very far” the security chief radioed. Kurshin figured he was in one of the helicopters that were still behind them, but now a couple of kilometers off. Yegorov downshifted again, the big transport shuddering as he turned off the superhighway and they rolled down the exit ramp which was marked KAISERSLAUTERN, 12 KM. “We’re not going very far, Colonel. Now listen carefully again to me”

  “We’re right behind you, I’m listening” Colonel Collingwood said tightly. “We’re going to bring this missile into the city, where we’ll set it up on Hauptbahnhof Strasse,
directly in front of Colonel Collingwood sputtered the train station. “Like hell you will.

  “I suggest for the safety of the city that you immediately see about evacuating at least the area surrounding the train station. If we should get nervous and blow the missile, there will be many casualties”

  They had reached the bottom of the long ramp, and ignoring the traffic, Yegorov hauled the big transporter onto the highway leading into the city, sideswiping a small Volkswagen sedan, shoving it off to the side in a mangled heap. “What do you want? Who are you” Colonel Collingwood shouted. “Clear passage into the city, for the moment. Believe me when I tell you, Colonel, that although we wish to hurt no one in Germany, we are determined and well trained”

  “And then what”

  “Then we shall see” Kurshin said.

  MARSEILLE

  McGarvey had taken an air-inter flight from Paris to Marseille on the Ceted’azur, and a cab into town where he set up at a sleazy little hotel. Trotter agreed to remain in Paris at least through the next forty-eight hours to provide backup, especially information from the CIA Paris Station and, through their liaison services, from the SDECE-the French Secret Service. He sacrificed stealth for speed in his search, though it wasn’t likely that Kurshin was still here. And it didn’t matter if he found out that questions were being asked. McGarvey wanted him to know that someone was dogging his heels. Still, it took the better part of three hours and seven waterfront bars before he came up with the name of a man who could be bought for a few francs and a cheap bottle of wine. Every city had such men. Marseille was no exception. “Mon dieu, the Russians mind their own business here just like the rest of us do” the old man said. He and McGarvey were seated across from each other at a small table. The bar was very noisy. Traffic on the nearby Canebiere was intense. “Nothing has happened in the city in the past few days, mon vieux” McGarvey asked, pouring a little more wine. The old man shrugged. “Many things happen in Marseille, monsieur”

  He sipped at his wine. McGarvey took out Kurshin’s photograph and slid it across the table. The old man looked at it for a long moment or two, but then shook his head. “Non”

  “You say the Russians mind their own business here, like everyone else”

  McGarvey said, masking his disappointment. “Is it because of the French Mafia” The old man smiled slightly, his face wrinkling, his lips parting to show his brown, chipped teeth. “There is no such organization, didn’t you know”

  “But everyone behaves” Again the old man shrugged. “They sometimes do not” McGarvey waited. “A few days ago, for instance, a very bad man disappeared to no one’s sorrow. It happens, tant pis”

  “Who was this man”

  “Edmon Railliarde. His loss will not be mourned, let me tell you”

  “He simply disappeared”

  “Oui” McGarvey sat back, a vague connection beginning at the back of his mind. Trotter had called Kurshin the chameleon. “Do you know what he looked like, this Railliarde? Can you describe him to me”

  “Yes, of course” the old man said, glancing again at Kurshin’s photograph. “Much like this one. Of course I cannot tell his bulk from a simple photograph, but Railliarde was a large man. A very bad man”

  “And he is missing”

  “Yes, but as I say no one will mourn that one” McGarvey laid a fifty-franc note on the table, snatched the photograph, and got up.

  “Mercy mon Vieux. You have been of inestimable service” Outside, McGarvey turned away from the waterfront and hurried on foot up the main boulevard finding a public telephone box five minutes later. He placed a call to Trotter at the embassy in Paris on the Avenue Gabriel. “I think I have a line on Kurshin” McGarvey said. “It’s possible he’s assumed the identity of a French Mafia boss from Marseille by the name of Edmon Railliarde” He quickly explained what he had learned. “Are you certain about this, Kirk” Trotter asked. He seemed oddly subdued, almost as if he were disappointed by McGarvey’s news. “Of course not, but it’s a start. What’s up” Again Trotter hesitated… “There is a developing situation at this moment in Germany. Ramstein Air Force Base. We were getting set to follow it up”

  “I’m listening” McGarvey said. He had learned the hard way never to underestimate a Baranov plan. The man was as brilliant as he was convoluted and devious. “An Army Pershing H missile has apparently been hijacked from the base”

  “By whom”

  “Apparently an Air Force colonel by the name of Brad Allworth. He’s got help. But what started us thinking is that Allworth was here on leave in Paris until yesterday”

  “What does he look like”

  “We’re getting it off the Associated Press wire. Tall, well built, goodlooking, an all-American” The connections were suddenly completed in McGarvey’s head. “It’s him” he shouted. “Kurshin has got that missile”

  “I thought you said he took on the persona of this Mafia boss. “Listen to me, John. I’m going to get up to Ramstein as quickly as I can. I want you to meet me there. You’re going to have to open some doors for me.

  But in the meantime ask the French if they have turned up a mutilated body somewhere in or around Paris within the past twenty-four hours.

  “Mutilated … ” Trotter asked. “Yeah” McGarvey said. “My guess would be that his fingerprints, dental work, and face would have been destroyed. Perhaps in an accident. Sudden understanding dawned in Trotter’s voice. “Railliarde” he said. “He’ll be carrying the man’s identification” McGarvey said. “But my guess is he will be Colonel Allworth. Railliarde’s body will probably never be found”

  “Good lord..” Trotter started to say, but McGarvey had hung up the telephone and was rushing down the street to the nearest cab stand.

  KAISERSLAUTERN

  The silence was eerie in the Hauptbahnhof Plaza across from the large train station a few blocks north of the city center. For nearly three hours the missile transporter had remained motionless in the middle of the square where it had been carefully positioned. “We must give them time to stabilize the situation” Kurshin explained. “I don’t want some nervous sharpshooter or overzealous polizei opening fire” Schey had said nothing, and although Yegorov had become clearly impatient, he too understood the wisdom of Kurshin’s order. They had switched off the radio so as not — to be disturbed. The three hours had also been necessary so that the means of their eventual escape could be put in place. Kurshin had been smoking a cigarette. He ground it out on the floor and then turned up the gain on the radar set. Three blips appeared, two to the south and one north. All three of them appeared nearly stationary. Helicopter gunships, he figured.

  Next he glanced at the transporter’s rearward-looking television monitor. Across the square, about one hundred fifty meters away, he could see that all the streets entering had been blocked off by armored personnel carriers, uniformed police, and US. soldiers standing behind the barriers. He leaned forward and peered out the Lexan-covered slits.

  The streets leading into the square from the north and northeast were also blocked off. In addition, he spotted at least half a dozen armed soldiers on the roofs of nearby buildings. “We’re hemmed in” Yegorov said. “Exactly. We’ve no means of escape so they’ll have calmed down by now” Kurshin said. He glanced over his shoulder at the East German, whose eyes were shining for the first time. He was still holding the trigger. “Are you ready” Schey nodded. Turning back, Kurshin switched on the radio. “Colonel Collingwood, this is Flybaby Six-P-Two. Do you copy”

  “That’s affirmative” the radio blared immediately. “May I assume that you have this part of the city evacuated by now, and that you have positioned only disciplined troops around the perimeter”

  “You may” Collingwood responded. “Very good, Colonel. Within the next sixty seconds two of us will be stepping out of the transporter and we will be going back to the missile itself. Let me remind you that one of our number shall remain at all times protected within the transporter, his finger on
the device that controls the plastique. Do I make myself perfectly clear”

  “You do” the Air Force security chief replied. “What are your intentions”

  “In due time, Colonel. For the moment suffice it that if anyone tries to interfere with our operation in any way, disaster will strike”

  “What do you want, god damnit” Collingwood shouted. “Make your demands”

  “Again, in due time, Colonel. But you have my word as an officer and a gentleman that we mean no harm to either the German or American peoples”

  “Then stand down”

  “I’m afraid that is not possible. You will understand very soon what we mean to do. I will explain everything to you at 2000 hours. But one final word of caution. We mean to raise the missile into its firing position now. But nothing, absolutely nothing will happen if you and your men show restraint. Until 2000 hours” Collingwood was shouting something when Kurshin switched off the radio. He turned again to Schey.

  “Give Ivan the trigger. It is time for us to get to work”

  ENROUTE TO KAISERSLAUTERN

  McGarvey was met at Frankfurt’s Rhine-Main Airport by the CIA’s number two out of Bonn, a husky but studious-looking man dressed in a dark blue blazer. ‘ “Todd Kraus” he introduced himself. “I’ve got a chopper standing by for you, Sir” It was a little past six in the afternoon. The airport was extremely busy but McGarvey had been passed through customs immediately. He followed the younger man across the terminal where they got in an Air Force sedan and sped to the opposite side of the field which housed the U.S.

  Rhinemain Air Force Base. A Bell AH-IW Super Cobra ground attack helicopter was already warming up for them. “We’ll get you down there in under twenty minutes” Kraus said as they climbed aboard.

  “In the meantime I’ve got a couple dozen questions for you” McGarvey said. “Yes, sir, I expect you do. I’ve been instructed to brief you on the way down. Mr. Trotter is already on site” The instant they’d strapped in, a crewman jumped aboard, closed and dogged the hatch, and went forward into the cockpit leaving them alone. They lifted off with a sickening lurch and swung left as they climbed, the helicopter taking a nose-down attitude as it rapidly picked up speed. The pilot was sparing nothing. Kraus reached up behind him, flipped on a small overhead light, and turned back to McGarvey. He pulled a map of downtown Kaiserslautern from his jacket pocket and spread it out between them. “I’ll give you the broad strokes first” Kraus began. “A man identifying himself as Air Force Colonel Brad Allworth managed to steal a nuclear-armed Pershing missile and transporter from Ramstein Air Force Base. He drove it off the base and onto the autobahn where he was met by two other men …