‘What!’ erupted Harry Fish, before Fredericks completed the explanation.
‘The British escape plane, sabotaged at the airport,’ elaborated Fredericks. ‘There was an anonymous call from within the airport itself, claiming Levine and Elliott were responsible.’
‘How were they identified?’ demanded Yamada.
‘The car,’ said the Resident. ‘Described in detail, right down to the registration plate. Even witnesses who remembered it around the military section this morning.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ said Dale. ‘You satisfy everybody?’
‘I’ve got them released, but the ambassador isn’t convinced,’ said Fredericks. ‘Langley is demanding a fuller explanation in the diplomatic pouch, so they’re clearly taking out insurance … would you believe the President himself is riding shotgun, insisting we prove ourselves squeaky clean! Only people not demanding explanations and assurances at the moment are the office cleaners!’
‘Jesus!’ said Dale, again.
‘What did you tell Langley about Kozlov?’ queried Fish.
‘That he didn’t show.’
‘Just that?’ questioned Fish, doubtfully.
‘What do you want me to do!’ demanded Fredericks, venting the anger and frustrations of the evening. ‘Admit we’ve been completely suckered by a guy who’s screwed the Agency once already; someone we were warned about!’
‘OK! OK!’ said the other American, retreating.
‘All because of Charlie Muffin!’ said Dale, disbelievingly.
‘So now it’s recovery time,’ said Fredericks, positively. ‘We’ve lost him and we’ve lost Kozlov and we’ve lost the woman. Right now, all of us together, we’re not worth a bucket of spit.’
‘He’ll be halfway back to England by now!’ protested Yamada.
‘He isn’t,’ said Fredericks. ‘Hank got a positive make on him, from a Cathay Pacific ticket clerk at the airport. He caught a flight to Hong Kong, forty-five minutes after their arrest …’ Fredericks looked at the desk clock. ‘Their own plane left two hours ago …’ He smiled an expression bereft of humour. ‘They want him,’ he said. ‘They want Charlie Muffin so bad you can feel it.’
‘Just Levine and Elliott?’ queried Fish.
‘All of us,’ insisted Fredericks. ‘We’re going down tonight on that C-130 and we’re to shake Hong Kong until all the fruit falls out of the trees.’
‘What if we get him?’ said Dale.
‘We’ve got to get him,’ insisted Fredericks. ‘And we will. We’ve checked the civil flights: there aren’t any more tonight out to Europe, so he’s stuck there, until tomorrow. I’ve activated every informant and person-in-place we’ve ever used and said they can name their own price: earn their pension in a day. Levine and Elliott aren’t moving from the airport until we get there. And our military can monitor any Air Force flight. Hong Kong is sealed.’
‘OK,’ corrected Dale. ‘When we get him. What then?’
‘The Kozlovs first,’ ordered Fredericks. ‘I don’t know how he did it, but I’m sure Charlie Muffin got the goddamned man and the woman to go over to him, together. We’ve got to get them back, through him.’
‘Then?’ said Yamada.
‘And then we blow him away,’ said Fredericks, simply. That guy’s made his last smart-assed move. Ever.’
Olga Balan used her own key to enter the Shinbashi apartment, stopped immediately inside the door by the look on Kozlov’s face.
‘Darling!’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘She’s still alive,’ said Kozlov.
‘But the plane …’ she said. ‘I heard the reports …’
‘She wasn’t on it,’ said Kozlov. He was white with anger.
‘How …?’ she stumbled.
Kozlov indicated the telephone. ‘She kept to the arrangement …’ In his frustration, Kozlov punched one fist into the palm of the other. ‘It was the Englishman,’ he said. ‘It was all planned so perfectly and Charlie Muffin did something I hadn’t expected …’
‘What are we going to do!’
‘Find them,’ said Kozlov, simply. ‘And this time make sure she dies.’ He paused and said: The Englishman, too: he’s definitely got to be killed.’
Chapter Sixteen
The vodka had been for a celebration of their freedom, but they drank it now for a different reason, needing its support. Kozlov walked aimlessly about the apartment, glass in hand, movement necessary to ease his frustration.
‘Everything was perfect!’ he said again. ‘Everything!’
‘Tell me from the beginning,’ said Olga, confused and trying to understand.
Kozlov halted by the window, gazing out over the gardens, still gripped by anger. Instead of replying directly, he said: ‘I should have known! I thought the photograph was to identify her: I should have guessed a passport!’
‘From the beginning,’ prompted Olga again.
‘Hayashi alerted me as soon as the military planes arrived,’ began Kozlov. ‘It was easy, that late at night, to get on to the apron: he knows the airport very well. The British aircraft was locked, of course, so I put the explosive into two different engine cowlings. Pressure activated …’ He stopped, drinking deeply from his glass. ‘For the meeting I went through the usual routine: ran the Americans all over town, choosing the place. Then insisted that I be left alone, with the Englishman …’ Kozlov paused again, halted by a thought. ‘He was clever: knew things about the KGB that surprised me: somehow he had linked me with McFairlane …’ He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t careful enough. I’d confused the Americans and I thought I’d confused him: didn’t imagine anything could go wrong.’
‘He didn’t query the separate crossings?’ asked the woman.
‘Of course he queried them,’ said Kozlov. ‘He seemed satisfied, by what I said. We arranged how he was to contact Irena and afterwards I took her through it … everything was going just as I’d planned …!’
‘How did you learn it had gone wrong?’
‘After she left this morning I came here. Heard the news reports of the explosion and thought it had all worked …’ He drank heavily again. ‘You know the precautions … this place and this telephone …’
‘This was supposed to be our place,’ she interrupted.
Kozlov was suddenly aware of her need. He crossed to her, cupping her face into his hands, and kissed her, gently. ‘It is,’ he said. ‘And it’s going to be.’
‘Why did she have to know?’
Kozlov frowned at the question. ‘You know why! There had to be a telephone point between us, away from the embassy which would have made her suspicious. Don’t forget the British and the Americans intended trying to get us both; the Englishman openly admitted it to me! This was the failsafe, to stop the Americans interfering. I told her I would not cross to Fredericks until I had heard positively from her. She was to tell the Americans, if they intercepted, that I wouldn’t cross at all until they’d released her and let the arrangements remain as they were supposed to be. That way I could guarantee her being on the British aircraft. This place was the last part of the perfect murder.’