Ch. 12
The girl with the large black attache case walked through the lobby, her striking dark looks attracting envious glances.
She was oblivious to the attention, it was something she was used to, as most really beautiful women are. In her mid twenties, Mary Monicker wasn't just your every day hooker. She worked for the most exclusive escort agency in Washington, her clientele carefully screened and consisting of the most powerful diplomats and government officials, elected or otherwise, in that capital city.
Dressed in a smart, dark grey, business suit over a high collared cream blouse, Mary looked like any other personal assistant or junior executive on her way to an important meeting. Her carriage, conservative and poised, was not one which encouraged men to approach her. Neither did the large, brutish gentleman in a black suit who walked beside her. It was her driver, her minder, the man who got the papers signed.
Upstairs, in a corner suite on the ninth floor, Philip Nowak, Special Assistant to the Secretary of State with responsibilities for European Security, poured himself a drink. Behind him, looking out of the window, already with a scotch and soda in his hand, Dimitri Sorge, Deputy Military Attache at the Russian Embassy, looked out on the street below.
'A lot of traffic for Christmas Eve, don't you think?'
'Busy time in Washington. All those bachelor boys and girls with no homes to go to. Party time for middle management.' Nowak joined Sorge at the window. 'What's so important, Dimi, that's got me away from my family on Christmas Eve?'
'I must apologise for my timing,' replied Sorge, turning away from the window and coming deeper into the room. 'But as you know, when our masters call, we must react immediately.'
Nowak nodded and grinned. He knew Sorge's orders came directly from the top echelons of the KGB, just as Sorge knew that Nowak reported directly to the Executive Director of the CIA. Knowing where the other stood made life easier for both of them. They were the direct link between the two security agencies, the failsafe contact that allowed the Directors of each agency to communicate with one another when all else failed. Nowak and Sorge had known each other for over ten years, had seen the Cold War thaw, the Berlin Wall crumble and the rich promises of perestroika start to be fulfilled. Their loyalties lay with their individual agencies, but their friendship was as firm as could be expected under the circumstances.
‘Your people are in one the loop alreadt?' asked Sorge.
'Of course.' Nowak had reported back to the CIA Executive Director and been surprised when he was summoned immediately to Langley for a meeting. After the briefing he was told to listen to what Sorge said and then only to engage in further discussion if the content of the Russian's interchange was similar to his own.
'You know why I want this meeting?'
Nowak chuckled to himself. It was typical of Dimi to call a meeting and then play dumb in an attempt to find out how much the American knew. No wonder they made great chess players.
'No,' he replied.
'My people want to know if you are about to renew hostilities between our two countries.'
'What on earth for?' Nowak was genuinely surprised by the question.
'That is what we would like to know.'
'Come on, Dimi. Nobody wants to go back to how it was. You must have a reason for saying that.'
There was a knock on the door.
'Ah!' said Sorge. 'The evening's entertainment, I hope.'
He crossed the living area to the door and opened it. Mary Monicker stood there, her escort beside her. 'Good. You've arrived.' He stood back as they entered the room, closed the door behind them.
'Not on Christmas Eve?' exclaimed Nowak, a big grin spreading across his face.
'What better time. I thought it's when you Christians give presents.'
'Are you Mister Sorge?' asked the escort.
'Yes.'
'I need your signature,' the escort continued, taking a carbonised sheet of printed paper out of his top pocket. 'Under the laws of this state, prostitution is illegal and carries heavy fines and a possible jail sentence. Our escorts are here simply to keep you company. No suggestion of sex, either for money or not, is to be made by you. The charge for this service is $150 an hour. There will be an additional charge of $150 per hour, or part of, for any extension of your companion's time. To make sure everything's to your satisfaction, and to ours, your escort will be required to ring in on the hour. As well as cash, payment can be made with American Express, Visa, Master Card or Diner's Club. If you agree to these terms, just sign this contract for an evening's companionship.'
'No sex?'
'No sex.' The escort ignored the grin on Sorge's face and took a pen from his top pocket. 'That's a fact.'
Sorge shrugged and reached over, signed the paper where indicated.
'Thank you,' said the escort, handing Sorge a copy of the agreement and pocketing the original. 'Have a nice day. Merry Christmas.' He turned and left the suite.
'Hello, Mary,' said Sorge.
'Dimi,' she acknowledged, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.
'This is a friend of mine. Philip Nowak.'
'Hi, Phil.'
'Mary,' Nowak replied.
'The usual terms?' Mary turned her attention back to Sorge.
'Of course.'
'Well, you guys finish your little talk. I'll just go and freshen up.'
The two men watched her walk into the bedroom before Sorge went and poured himself another drink. Nowak sat in the armchair facing the bedroom and watched Mary put her attache case on the bed before opening it. Sorge came and sat opposite him on the sofa.
'Is she safe?'
'These girls hear more classified information than the KGB and CIA together. They earn too much to risk talking about what they pick up. Their jobs depend on them being safe.'
'So why the meeting?'
'As we both know, perestroika has left many loose ends. It's no secret that we both have sleeper agents, all over the world. We have more than you, but that is only because you decided under President Carter to concentrate on satellite and aerial surveillance. Even if you've stopped spying on us, the satellites remain in position. It only takes a second to switch a camera back on. Our spies are on the ground. Europe, Africa, we have representation in most areas. Like you, we don't use them, but they're there…in case.'
‘Even used it to our mutual advantage.' They both knew Nowak referred to the Iraq Gulf Crisis.
'One of our sleepers has been taken out. In the last few weeks.'
'What?' Nowak unwittingly showed his surprise. It was not what he had expected, not what Langley had briefed him on.
'That's right. I won't say where, but it was definitely assassination.'
'How do you know?'
'The methods used were KGB style killing from the 1950's.'
'What method is that?'
'It's not relevant.'
'And you want to know if we're involved?'
'Obviously. 'Are you?'
'No. Not that I know of.'
'Will you help us?'
'I would think so. But that isn't my decision. Are you asking for assistance?'
'Not my decision either. I was simply told to open a dialogue between us.'
'Okay. I'll pass that on. Come on, Dimi. There's more, isn't there.'
'Of course. Your people rushed one of your scientists out of Cannes the other day. A black peddler started shooting at a group he was with.'
'That's right. We thought he might be in danger.' Nowak leant back and looked into the bedroom. The lights had gone out and there was a light flickering on the bedroom wall. There was no sign of the girl, but he heard a tap running. She must be in the bathroom.
He decided to cross the line.