“Yes, and it has become a real bitch keeping them out of trouble. You know how the navy is”
“We’ll be gone soon”
“Not soon enough”
Kurshin gave the lookout a hard stare. He could have broken the man in two with his bare hands, the impertinent bastard. But then respect was such an ephemeral quality. Baranov had let the word float down subtly that one of his handpicked few had erred. It would be up to him to rebuild his reputation, but if he failed this time Baranov would completely wash his hands of him. The lookout caught something of that from Kurshin’s eyes and he backed down. “They are waiting for you upstairs. Will you leave tonight”
“Thank you for your help” Kurshin said, ignoring the man’s question.
“Yes” the man said. “Will you or the others be needing anything else”
“Our transportation has been taken care of”
“There is a camper van in the garage. It won’t attract any attention, the roads are filled with them these days”
“And the boat”
“Waiting for you in Naples. The provisions are already on board, as is the paperwork”
“And the other items”
“On board as well” The lookout was actually the number-two man behind the KGB’s Rome rezident. A good and competent man was how Baranov had described him. He had made the arrangements for the hotel, their transportation, and the boat in Naples without knowing any of the other details of the operation. He had not been told that the men upstairs were naval officers, but then it would have been easy enough for him to deduce that fact simply by the way they talked and behaved themselves.
“There will be no track here in Rome” he assured Kurshin. “Good hunting”
“Thank you, Yuri Semenovich. Your contribution will not go unnoticed”
Kurshin turned, walked the rest of the way down the block, and entered the hotel, which looked almost like a small villa. Small and very private. The desk man was not on duty and the tiny lobby was in semidarkness. He took the narrow elevator up to the third floor and as he softly slid the iron gate back he heard a low burst of laughter from the room at the end of the corridor. Carefully he moved closer. He could hear them talking inside, though at first he couldn’t make out the words. Someone said something, and again there was laughter. “You’re goddamned right” another of them said clearly. Competent and dedicated men, and all of them English speakers. A rare combination for a Soviet naval officer. Kurshin knocked once at the door and all sounds from within ceased. A moment later he knocked twice, and the door was opened a crack. The room was in darkness, a club room odor of cigarette smoke, vodka, and male bodies wafting out. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. Someone to his left closed the door and the lights came on, leaving Kurshin blinking at the six officers each pointing a silenced Makarov automatic at him, and he managed a slight smile.
“Good evening, gentlemen” he said in English. “Either shoot me or offer me a drink. Frankly I’d prefer vodka” There was a camaraderie within the military services, especially the navy, that was completely alien to Kurshin. He had to force his bonhomie. He had almost always worked alone. This time, of course, it would have been completely impossible.
“Search him” one of the men said. They all were dressed in ordinary street clothes. One of the others laid his pistol down and quickly frisked Kurshin, coming up with his Graz Buyra. He stepped aside. “Now, drop your trousers” Kurshin’s eyes narrowed, though he understood the reason. “Now” the officer snappedkurshin did as he was told. He had taken the bandage off the wound high on his thigh. It was puckered and an angry red color.
One of the others stepped a little closer and looked at the wound. “It’s real” he said. The first officer lowered his gun. “Well, I don’t think the Americans would shoot one of their own people just to infiltrate us”
“Captain Makayev” Kurshin asked, pulling up his trousers. “At your service, Comrade Colonel” Captain First Rank Nikolai Gerasimovich Makayev said, and they shook hands. “When do we get out of here”
“Tonight” Kurshin said, looking at the other five men. “I have a camper van parked a couple of blocks from here. We’ll be leaving in singles and pairs, so we won’t attract too much attention to ourselves”
“Our orders”
“Not until we’re at sea” Captain Makayev nodded. It was a sensible rule that they all understood, though they had not been told very much about this assignment, other than that it would be extremely dangerous, but that those who returned would be well re warded. Each man in his own way was in very. great need of such rewards. “Now introduce me to the others, Captain” Makayev nodded. “You’ve already met my executive officer, Captain Second Rank Gennadi Gavrilovich Fedorenko”
He was the officer who had patted Kurshin down. He seemed very self-assured. They shook hands. “And our ship’s doctor, Avenir Akimovich Velikanov. He and Kurshin shook hands. “That wound of yours should be covered, Colonel” he said. “I’ll let you see to it once we’re out of here” Kurshin said. The doctor was an alcoholic, but he was competent enough for what he had to do, which after all would not involve saving lives. “Our nuclear engineer, Captain Second Rank Ivan Pavlovich Abalakin. Our missile man, Lieutenant Aleksei Sergeevich Chobotov, and our boy genius sonannan, Lieutenant Aleksandr Ivanovich Rama” Kurshin shook hands with them as well. “You all have experience on Alpha-class boats”
“Yes, sircaptain Makayev said, his eyes shining. “And we’re anxious to get to work”
“There’ll be plenty of it for you to do, Captain, believe me. And very soon.
McGarvey stood on a windsweirr rocky promontory looking out across the azure Aegean Sea toward the mainland fifty miles to the northwest. He was winded and sweating under the fierce Greek summer sun and the breeze felt good on his legs and bare torso. He was running five miles a day now, up and down the craggy paths around the tiny rock-strewn island. A dozen families of Greek fishermen lived in a tiny village on the north side of the island, leaving him in relative isolation on the south side where he had taken up residence in an abandoned lighthouse. For the past few days he had known that someone would be coming. He had felt it in his bones. It was a common feeling for him, which had saved his life on more than one occasion(Pic out the small hydrofoil boat while it was still eight or ten miles out, by its long, creamy wake. Now it was barely a mile off the ancient stone dock in the village below. He had been brought here to this island the same way a month ago, and now someone was coming to him. Unconsciously he touched the healing scar on the small of his back to the right of his spine. Kurshin’s bullet had destroyed one of his kidneys and it had been removed that night in the Bethesda Naval Hospital. He had nearly bled to death on the operating table, and still a weakness would come over him at the odd moment. But he had been lucky, once again. How long would that hold? Turning, he started down from the crest of the hill toward the lighthouse two miles away, running lightly so as not to jar his back, but easily because it felt good to be alive and functioning again.