Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers (197 page)

"At the same time she was also trained to fit naturally into upper-class international Western society. Dress, food, drink,
cosmetics, manners, popular music and literature, cinema theatre,
democratic politics, business procedures, the operation of stocks and commodities markets, the more mundane secretarial skills, modern dancing, the art of lovemaking and pleasuring men that and much else,
all of it taught by experts flying, skiing, weapons, the rudiments of electronics and mechanical engineering and every other skill that a top-class agent might have to call upon.

"She was the star of her course and emerged from it much as the woman you know. Poised, skilled, beautiful, motivated and deadly.

"At the age of nineteen she knew more, was capable of more, than most other human beings, male or female, twice her age. The perfect agent, except for a small flaw in her make-up that only showed up later. She was too intelligent and too personally ambitious." Kingston

Parker smiled for the first time in twenty minutes. Which of course is a pseudonym for greed. Her masters did not recognize it in her, and perhaps at that age it was only latent greed. She had not yet been fully exposed to the attractions of wealth nor of unlimited power."

Kingston Parker broke off, leaned across the table towards Peter. then seemed to cLinge direction then, smiling an inward knowledgeable stude,
as though pondering a hidden truth.

"Greed for wealth alone belongs essentially to the lower levels of human intelligence. It is only the developed and advanced mind that can truly appreciate the need for power-" He saw the protest in Peter's expression. No, no, I don't mean merely the power to control one's own limited environment, merely the power of life and death over a few thousand lives not that, but true power. Power to change the destiny of nations, power such as Caesar or Napoleon wielded, such as the
President of the United States wields that is the ultimate greed,
Peter. A magnificent and noble greed." He was silent a moment, as though glimpsing some vision of splendour. Then he went on: "
digress. Forgive me," and turned to Colin Noble. "Do we have some coffee, Colin? I think we could all do with a cup now. Colin went to the machine that blooped and gurgled and winked its red eye in the corner, and while he filled the cups, the charged atmosphere in the room eased a little, and Peter tried to arrange his thoughts in some logical sequence. He looked for the flaws and weak places in the story but could find none instead he remembered only the feel of her mouth, the touch of her hands on his body. Oh God, it was a stab of physical pain, a deep ache in the chest and groin, as he remembered how she had coursed him like a running stag, driving and goading him on to unvisited depths of his being. Could such skills be taught, he wondered, and if so, by whom? He had a horrifying thought of a special room set on the heights above the Black Sea, with that slim, vulnerable tender body practising its skills, learning love as though it were cookery or small arms practice and then he shut his mind firmly against it, and Kingston Parker was speaking again, balancing his coffee cup primly with his pinky finger raised, like an old maid at a tea party.

"So she arrived back in Paris and it fell at her feet. It was a triumphant progress." Kingston Parker prodded in the file with his free hand, spilling out photographs of Magda Magda dancing in the ballroom of the Elysee Palace, Magda leaving a Rolls-Royce limousine outside
Maxim's in the rue Royale, Magda skiing, riding, beautiful, smiling,
poised and always there were men. Rich, well-fed, sleek men.

"I told you once there were eight sexual liaisons." Kingston
Parker used that irritating expression again. "We have had reason to revise that figure. The French take a very close interest in that sort of thing, they have added to the list." He flicked over the photographs. "Pierre Hammond, Deputy Minister of Defence-" And another. "Mark Vincent, head of mission at the American Consulate-"

"Yes," Peter cut in short, but still there was a sickly fascination in seeing the faces of these men. He had imagined them accurately, he realized, without particular relish.

"Her masters were delighted as you can imagine. With a male agent it is sometimes necessary to wait a decade or more for results while he moles his way into the system.

With a young and beautiful woman she has her greatest value when those assets are freshest. Magda Kutchinsky gave them magnificent value. We do not know the exact extent of her contributions our
Russian friends have not bared everything to us, I'm afraid, but I
estimate that it was about this time they began to realize her true potential. She had the magical touch, but her beauty and youth could not last for even" Kingston Parker made a deprecating gesture with the slim pianist's hands. "We do not know if Aaron Altmann was a deliberate choice by her masters. But it seems likely. Think of it one of the richest and most powerful men in Western Europe, one who controlled most of the steel and heavy engineering producers, the single biggest armaments complex, electronics all associated and sensitive secondary industries. He was a widower, childless, so under
French law his wife could inherit his entire estate.

He was known to be fighting a slowly losing battle with cancer, so his life term was limited and he was also a Zionist and one of the most trusted and influential members of Mossad. It was beautiful.

Truly beautiful" said Kingston Parker. "Imagine being able to undermine a man of that stature, perhaps being able to double him!

Though that seemed an extravagant dream not even the most beautiful siren of history could expect to turn a man like Aaron Altmann. He is a separate study on his own, another incredible human being with the strength and courage of a lion until the cancer wore him out. Again
I digress, forgive me. Somebody, either the Director of the NKVD in
Moscow, or Magda Kutchinsky's control at the Russian Embassy in Paris,
who was, incidentally, the Chief NKVD Commissar for Western Europe,
such was her value, or Magda Kutchinsky herself, picked Aaron Altmann.

Within two years she was indispensable to him. She was cunning enough not to use her sexual talents upon him immediately.

Altmann could have any woman who took his fancy, and he usually did. His sexual appetites were legendary, and they probably were the cause of his remaining childless. A youthful indiscretion resulted in a venereal disease with complications. It was later completely cured,
but the damage was irreversible, he never produced an heir." He was a man who would have toyed with her and cast her aside as soon as he tired of her, if she had been callow enough to make herself immediately available to him.

First, she won his respect and admiration. Perhaps she was the first woman he had ever met whose brain and strength and determination matched his own Kingston Parker selected another photograph and passed it across the table. Fascinated, Peter stared at the black and white image of a heavily built man with a bull neck, and a solid thrusting jaw. Like so many men of vast sexual appetite, he was bald except for a Friar Tuck frill around the cannon ball dome of his skull. But there were humorous lines chiselled about his mouth, and his eyes, though fierce, looked as though they too could readily crinkle with laughter lines. Portrait of Power, Peter thought.

"When at last she gave him access to her body, it must have been like some great electrical storm." Kingston Parker seemed to be deliberately dwelling on her past love affairs, and Peter would have protested had not the information he was receiving been so vital.

"This man and woman must have been able to match each other once again.

Two very superior persons, two in a hundred million probably it is interesting to speculate what might have happened if they had been able to produce a child." Kingston Parker chuckled. "It would probably have been a mongolian idiot life is like that." Peter moved irritably,
hating this turn in the conversation, and Parker went -on smoothly.

"So they married, and NKVD had a mole in the centre of Western industry. Narmco, Altmann's armaments complex, was manufacturing top secret American, British and French missile hardware for NATO. The new
Baroness was on the Board, was in fact Deputy Chairman of Narmco. We can be sure that armaments blueprints were passed, not by the sheet but by the truckload. Every night, the leaders and decision-makers of the
Western world sat at the new Baroness's board and swilled her champagne. Every conversation, every nuance and indiscretion was recorded by that specially trained memory, and slowly, inevitably, the
Baron's strength was whittled away. He began to rely more and more upon her. We do not know exactly when she began to assist him with his
Mossad activities but when it happened the Russians had succeeded in their design. In effect they had succeeded in turning Baron Aaron
Altmann, they had his right hand and his heart for by this time the dying Baron was completely besotted by the enchantress.

They could expect to inherit the greater part of Western European heavy industry. It was all very easy until the latent defect in the
Baroness's character began to surface.

We can only imagine the alarm of her Russian imislers when they detected the first signs that the Baroness was working for herself alone. She was brighter by far than any of the men who had up until that time controlled her, and she had been given a taste of real power.

The taste seemed very much to her liking. We can only imagine the gargantuan battle of wills between the puppet masters and the beautiful puppet that had suddenly developed a mind and ambitions of her very own quite simply her ambition now was to be the most wealthy and powerful woman since Catherine of Russia, and the makings were almost within her pretty hands except-" Kingston Parker stopped; like a born storyteller, he knew instinctively how to build up the tension in his audience.

He rattled his coffee cup.

"This talking is thirsty business." Colin and Peter had to rouse themselves with a physical effort. They had been mesmerized by the story and the personality of the storyteller. When Parker had his cup refilled, he sipped at it, then went on speaking.

"There was one last lever her Russian masters had over her. They threatened to expose her. It was quite a neat stroke, really. A man like Aaron Altmann would have acted like an enraged bull if he had known how he had been deceived. His reaction was predictable. He would have divorced Magda immediately. Divorce is difficult in France but not for a man like the Baron. Without his protection Magda was nothing, less than nothing, for her value to the Russians would have come to an end. Without the Altmann Empire her dreams of power would disappear like a puff of smoke. It was a good try it would have worked against an ordinary person, but of course they were not dealing with an ordinary person-" Parker paused again; it was clear he was as wrapped up by the story as they were, and he was drawing out the pleasure of the telling of it.

"I have been doing a lot of talking," he smiled at Peter.

"I'm going to let you have a chance now, Peter. You know her a little, you have learned a lot more about her in the last hour. Can you guess what she did?" Peter began to shake his head and then it crashed in upon him with sickening force, and he stared at Parker, the pupils of his eyes dilating with the strength of his revulsion.

"I think you have guessed." Parker nodded. "Yes, we can imagine that by this stage she was becoming a little impatient herself The
Baron was taking a rather long time to die."

"Christ, it's horrible."
Peter grunted, as though in pain.

" From one point of view, I agree." Parker nodded. "But if you look at it like a chess player, and remember she is a player of Grand
Master standard, it was a brilliant stroke.

She arranged that the Baron be kidnapped. There are witnesses to the fact that she insisted on the Baron accompanying her that day. He was feeling very bad, and he did not want to go sailing, but she insisted that the sun and fresh air would be good for him. He never took his bodyguard when he went sailing. There were just the two of them. A very fast cruiser was waiting offshore-" He spread his hands.

"You know the details?"

"No," Peter denied it.

"The cruiser rammed the yacht. Picked the Baron out of the water,
but left the Baroness. An hour later there was a radio message to the coast guard they went out and found her still clinging to the wreckage.

The kidnappers were very concerned that she survived."

"They may have wanted a loving wife to bargain with," Peter suggested swiftly.

"That is possible, of course, and she certainly played the role of the bereaved wife to perfection. When the ransom demand came it was she who forced the Board of Altmann Industries to ante up the twenty-five million dollars. She personally took the cash to the rendezvous alone." Parker paused significantly.

"She didn't need the money."

"Oh, but she did," Parker contradicted. "The Baron was not in his dotage, you know, His hands were still very firmly on the reins and the purse strings. Magda had as much as any ordinary wife could wish for, furs, jewellery, servants,
clothes, cars, boats pocket money, around two hundred thousand dollars a year, paid to her as a salary from Altmann Industries. Any ordinary wife would have been well content but she was not an ordinary wife. We must believe she had already planned how to carry forward her dreams of unlimited power and it needed money, not thousands but millions. Twenty-five million would be a reasonable stopgap, until she could get her pretty little fingers on the big apple. She drove with the cash, in thousand-Swiss-franc bills, I understand; she drove alone to some abandoned airfield and had a plane come pick it up and fly it out to Switzerland. Damned neat."