“How about you, John, still with the Bureau” Trotter shook his head.
“I’m back over at Langley. Assistant deputy director of operations”
“Larry Danielle still there”
“Seventh floor. He’s our new deputy DCI. Phil Carrara is my boss. I don’t think you knew him. He came over last year from NSA”
“A technologist” Again Trotter managed a slight smile. National Security Agency types were very often electronic freaks. “He’s a good man” McGarvey sipped at his wine. To this point Trotter had studiously avoided any direct eye contact. McGarvey stared at him. “It’s Baranov, isn’t it, John. That’s why you’ve come” Trotter nodded grimly. “He’s on the move again”
“it looks like it. Larry suggested you this time, though, not me. I swear to God. I told him that you’d had enough. That you wanted to be left alone”
“But he didn’t agree”
“No”
“Why all the pussyfooting around again, John”
“We didn’t know your circumstances” Trotter replied simply. At this point McGarvey could have been a changed man, could have turned into almost anything. They had to make certain that he was clean, and that the opposition hadn’t gotten a line on him. As Trotter unnecessarily explained: “Valentin Baranov has got a very large grudge against you, Kirk. Now that he is director of the KGB he has the power to do something about it. “You’re here to save my skin, is that it” McGarvey asked, feeling some of his old meanness coming back. His stomach was sour. It was the thrill of the opening moves of a hunt he’d been waiting for. “To save all of our skins. The man has got to be stopped. This time McGarvey had to smile. “What do you want this time, John? Am I to go to Moscow and assassinate the director of the KGB”
“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”