Black Ghosts (29 page)

When the alarm went off, Larry was already awake. His inner clock and the importance of the job in hand combined to make a very potent wake-up call. He showered and got coffee and doughnuts from the all-night diner. Then it was time to call. Using Edward's phone card, he dialed the Grosvenor Hotel in London.

“I believe you have a guest there by the name of James Fenton?”

“Just a moment, sir, I'll check.”

Larry thought Richard Townes and Bud Hays were probably along for the trip. He was convinced that at least one of those two men would sooner see him dead than succeed in what he was trying to do. It was still hard for him to believe that someone so close to the president could be working against him. But a question arose from that: Was the man knowingly working against American interests, or did he believe that it was precisely those interests he was working for? Or was it all just money?

Larry's only chance to get something done was Fenton. He had to make the man listen.

The receptionist came back on the line. “We do have a guest by that name, sir, but he's not answering his phone. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, I'll call back.”

By the time dawn broke, Larry was back on the road.

 

Edward wasn't quite sure of his whereabouts. He was walking out of the jungle in Cambodia right on to a sand dune in Iraq when something started ringing. He looked for his gun but it wasn't there. The ringing persisted and he recognized it as the phone on the oak table at Al Caponeski's house. He opened his eyes. He was up, out of the armchair and running toward the ringing phone even before he was fully awake. But Igor got to it first.

“Da, da. Here, it's Alexi. For you.” Igor handed him the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hi, boss.” Alexi sounded pleased. “We're at the pay phone, like you said. And she is very much, how you say, she is woman, she can roar. You want to rap with her?”

“Yes, put her on . . . Hello? Natalie?”

When he heard her voice, it sounded like water bubbling in a parched desert. “Edward? Thank God, I was so worried about you. What happened? Who is this gorilla? Why didn't you call me?”

“Are you okay?” He wanted to ask her a million questions and apologize, explain that he hadn't abandoned her, that there was a reason for everything he had done...

“I'm fine, I guess. But Edward, I miss you.”

“Where were you? I tried to call the hotel as soon as I knew I couldn't go back there and . . .”

“I got worried, so I left the hotel and went to stay with some friends. Then I went to see if the apartment was being watched. I checked it several times and when I figured that there was no one there, I went in. I was hoping I'd hear from you. Larry called, and then this . . . thing showed up. Where are you?”

“In a safe house. I want you to come here.”

“Now?”

“Yes, I just want to make sure you're not being followed. Go with Alexi. Do what he tells you and we'll be together real soon.”

“Okay, I can't wait to see you.”

Edward had a few more words to say to Alexi, then he went into the other room to talk to Anton, Sokolov's driver, who was sitting silently and patiently in an armchair. Leaving Igor sitting at the oak table, they left the house.

Their first stop was a bar on Stanislav Street. Edward sat at a table by the window, while Anton sat in the car. After about ten minutes, Edward saw Natalie and Alexi walking around the corner.

Edward had told Alexi to park the Volkswagen about three blocks away and to walk along the street, turning left when they got to the end. Edward watched the street after they had passed, and so did Anton, only from a different angle. There was no activity behind the two walking figures.

Next Anton drove to Sovietskaya Square, where he parked by the statue of Prince Dolgoruky. As Edward had instructed him, Alexi showed up with Natalie a few minutes later. They passed right in front of the car. Natalie was so close that Edward wanted to clutch her in his arms, and he could almost smell her fragrance. Again the street behind them was free of any tail. Edward could say with some assurance that they were clean.

Anton swung the car out of the square in the direction Alexi and Natalie were heading. They found them waiting a couple of blocks up. Edward gave Alexi the thumbs-up as they passed by the parked Volkswagen, and the two cars drove back to the safe house.

After they had finished the introductions, Edward took Natalie to the small room that had become his bedroom. Alexi was hanging around at the door, a wolfish grin on his face.

“You were right,” he said in a stage whisper as they passed him to go into the room, “she's cute.” He gave Edward a dig in the ribs, and then Edward shut the door firmly in his face. Natalie threw her coat over the back of a chair, then turned to face Edward, a smile of joyous welcome on her face.

It felt so good to hold her in his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Then she pulled him down on the bed. There was something frantic about the way they undressed each other. It was as though they wanted to reassure themselves that the other was still whole, unharmed. Her smell filled his flared nostrils, the blood pumping hard through his body. Her skin was soft, warm, her hands cool. There was a hunger, a need to please in the way she moved. He could feel a difference in her already: She was more aggressive, more confident.

Afterward, Edward felt a deep sense of peace as they lay quietly in each other's arms, their breathing slow. Whatever the future held, he had this moment, this feeling to remember. He was part of the great rhythm of life, which flowed in and out of him like a breath. It was all he needed. For now, he was content.

“Edward,” said Natalie, getting up on one elbow, “you haven't said anything about the operation. How's it going?”

Edward smiled up at her, unwilling to leave behind this moment of tranquillity. “It's fine.”

“Good.” She smiled, too, settling down beside him and laying her head on his chest. They slept until morning.

When Edward awoke, his mind was working again, only calmer than before and with greater clarity. He could picture the interplay of forces, the variables he had to contend with, like a three-dimensional illuminated model in his mind. He could see the many details that needed settling. Had Larry managed to get a frequency to the president's plane?

“What are you thinking?” asked Natalie, her voice sweetly plaintive.

“About Larry. I told him to try to get them to change the airport the president is going to land at.”

“Why?”

“I think they're going to try something at Sheremetyevo. So I told him to switch to Domodedovo.”

“Hmm.” Natalie snuggled closer to him. He sensed that she understood him, that she knew whatever he was saying was important but could hold it inside her along with all the other stuff, the emotions, the love, the passion.

“And did he?” she said.

“What?”

“Change the airport?”

“I don't know. He didn't get back to me yet.”

“What else has been happening? How are the boys?”

“They should be on their way here,” he checked his watch, “right about now.”

“Really?” Natalie's eyes were wide. “Here, to this house?”

“No. We've got a farmhouse and an airfield.”

“Where?”

Edward was trying to remember. “What did he say about it? Oh yeah, it's an . . .” Just then there was a sharp knock at the door, and Alexi came in with two steaming mugs of tea. “I brought some refreshment for our sexual athletes in here,” he said, grinning his lecherous grin.

Edward was about to utter a sharp rebuke. The man was starting to get on his nerves. But Natalie reached up with a smile of gratitude and took one of the mugs. Alexi ogled her exposed breast, and then, under Edward's angry glare, set the other mug down beside the bed, turned and walked back to the door. “Your friend Sparky called,” said Alexi. “He's coming 2:05 p.m., Flight 809 from Heathrow.”

“Why didn't you let me talk to him?” asked Edward.

“I not want to disturb you sleeping,” said Alexi, grinning again. “Or trucking, or whatever,” he added significantly.

Edward had to resist the temptation to throw the hot mug at the man's retreating figure. The door closed behind him, leaving them in peace.

Natalie worked herself into a sitting position to drink her tea. “This is good,” she said, sipping the hot liquid. “I was getting cold.”

Edward reached to the chair and pulled at Natalie's coat. As it fell toward him, a shiny object slithered out of the pocket.

“Ooh, what have we here?” said Edward, picking up the polished steel handle. “Haven't seen one of these in a while.” He pressed the switch, and the filed stiletto blade shot out. He tested the edge and the point with his finger. “Sharp too. Where did you get it?”

“Had it for years,” said Natalie. “I kept it in the apartment for, well, you know, a single girl in a foreign city . . . When your big ugly bear came to pick me up, I wasn't sure if he was on the up and up, so I just slipped it in my pocket. Seemed like a reasonable precaution.” She drank.

“I don't blame you.” Edward closed the switchblade and slipped it under his pillow. “Still, I'm glad you're on my side.”

She laughed, setting her mug down. He took her arm and pulled her gently toward him. They kissed. Soon they were united again, bathing their souls in a glowing river of passion. The room was suddenly warm again. Natalie looked serene, and Edward wished he could know what she was thinking behind those big blue eyes.

She smiled: If he only knew. She enjoyed him like a toy. It felt good playing with him one last time before throwing him at Rogov's feet. He was so vulnerable and trusting that it almost made her sick. She knew anyone who was so trusting could never amount to much. He disappointed her; he was no match for her. He lacked the cunning of a real man. He was too gentle, even in the way he made love.

She had contemplated using the blade on him. She knew she could surprise the other men and take them after finishing him off. She had planned the whole thing: showing up at the door naked, calling them in one at a time, stacking their bodies in the corner. But it was better to wait. Now she had useful information to take back to General Rogov. And if she bided her time, she probably could get more. She sighed, stretched, and lay her head down beside his.

The heavy smell of kasha, onions, eggs, and thick, greasy potato pancakes forced its way with a heavy hand into the bedroom, drawing them out like a smoke bomb. Igor had prepared a Russian breakfast and cordon bleu it was not, but it went down well.

From this point on, Edward knew he would have very little rest. He had to pace himself. He was now locked into the general's timetable, and he knew he had only one advantage: the element of surprise.

“I want you to go back to New York,” he said to Natalie after they had finished eating.

“Why?” Natalie sounded hurt. “I've come this far with you. Can't I stay and help?”

Edward shook his head. “It's too dangerous.”

“I'm not afraid.” She fixed Edward with a calm and steady look.

For a moment he was tempted to let her stay with him. “There's no point in putting you in harm's way.”

Reluctantly, Natalie agreed. There were more things she wanted to ask, but she knew it would raise his suspicions if she overdid it.

Relieved, Edward said that Anton would drive her to the airport. He was leaving anyway, to pick up Sparky, who was due to arrive soon.

“First I have to go back to my apartment,” she said. “I left all my stuff there.”

“What stuff?”

“My passport, everything.”

Edward looked at his watch. He didn't want Sparky waiting alone at the airport, and there was not time for Anton to go to Natalie's apartment before meeting Sparky's flight.

“We can boogie,” said Alexi, who had been sitting in silence, reading the newspaper. “It be pleasure to have such sexy chick in my car.” He winked at her.

Edward was about to favor Alexi with a few well-chosen insults, but Natalie, glancing quickly at Alexi and then at the watchful Anton, said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

So it was decided. Anton did not apparently speak much English, but with the help of Igor's translation services, he was given a description of Sparky and sent off to meet him.

“I'm ready,” she said. “You're not coming to see me off?”

“I can't. I have to wait for Larry to get back to me.”

They said goodbye at the door. Edward watched her and Alexi get into the Volkswagen and drive away. Everything was coming together just fine, he thought.

 

There was bad news waiting for Larry when he got back to the safe house. Joe Falco was sitting in his wheelchair in the living room. On the coffee table was a small metallic object.

“Look what I found,” Joe said grimly, pointing at the object.

Larry picked it up. There was no doubt what it was, an electronic listening device.

“Where?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly conscious of the fact that there could be more of them. He looked around the room.

“Right here under the coffee table.”

“Did you check the rest of the house?”

“Downstairs, yes. It's clean. Upstairs, I had a problem.” He shrugged apologetically. Larry carried him upstairs and then went back for his wheelchair. Together they made a thorough sweep. There were no more bugs.