Deep Lie (41 page)

“And an occasional very clever modification,” Appicella said.

“I might even have something new for you, if this works the way I expect it to.” He connected the monitor and keyboard to the computer, then connected it to a printer “next to it on the workbench.

“This machine has never been turned on, let alone burned in.” Rolf said, worriedly.

“If you screw it up. I won’t get hold of another for months. I’m counting on this as a demonstrator to pull in orders.”

“Fear not,” Appicella said.

“By the time I have finished here, it will be not only burned in, but thoroughly checked out by an expert and, perhaps, even enhanced.”

“Oh my God,” said Rolf. rolling his eyes.

Appicella took a blank diskette, pried open its paper flap with a small screwdriver, and removed the disk of mylar plastic from inside. Then he took a penlight from his pocket, unscrewed it, and shook the batteries out onto the bench. With them came another mylar disk. He inserted the mylar into the plastic envelope and taped the envelope shut.

“There,” he said.

“Now we will see if this piece of plastic has weathered a bit of abuse, plus a seaborne crossing of the Baltic.” He booted the computer, inserted the disk into its floppy drive, and typed something. A list of files came up on the screen. He typed something else, and the printer went into action.

Rule stood and watched, wide-eyed, as the document was printed.

“Good God, Emilio,” she said, “how did you do this?”

Appicella shrugged.

“I simply robbed Majorov’s computer,” he said.

“And when this is finished printing, I am going to rape it.”

“Who is Majorov?” Rolf wanted to know.

“I thought I knew everybody in the business here.”

“He is in quite another business, my dear Rolf,” Appicella said.

“If you will forgive such a liberty in your own place of business, I think my friends would like a bit of privacy. Do you mind?”

Rolf threw up his hands.

“Mind? Why should I mind?

We won’t get any repair work done this morning, and half a dozen customers will want my head, but what the hell? If I can make Emilio Appicella happy…” He walked out and closed the door.

“Emilio,” Rule said, reading the document as it was printed, “you should be a full-time spy, you know.” She looked up at him.

“What were you talking about, raping his computer?”

“That will take a little longer, I am afraid,” Appicella replied.

“I’ll explain when I’ve done it.”

The printer stopped, and Rule began tearing the continuous pages of the document apart.

“Look, I’ve got to get over to the ministry and see Carlsson. Emilio, you’ll be working here for a while, right? I think it’s important that you not leave here and go wandering around the city.

Majorov has surely missed you by this time, and he can’t be very happy with you.” “Don’t worry,” Appicella said, “I have plenty to keep me busy while you save Sweden from the Russians.”

“Will,” she said, “I don’t like asking you to take risks, but will you come to the ministry with me? You work for Senator Carr, and you might enhance my credibility with Carlsson.”

“Risk? What risk?”

“I think you ought to consider that there might be people looking for you around Stockholm, even as we speak. They took a swipe at me this morning and hit somebody else instead, so maybe they think I’m dead. On the other hand, if they’ve found out they hit the wrong person, they might still be looking for a woman alone. I think we might be less conspicuous together. They’re probably not looking for a couple.”

“Okay, I’m with you,” he said.

Rule asked Rolf to look up the address of the ministry. and they got a cab in the street.

“Shouldn’t we telephone ahead?” Lee asked.

Rule shook her head.

“I don’t trust the telephone right now,” she said.

The cab drove them to what seemed a side street off a small square and stopped in front of an unprepossessing doorway.

“This is the address,” the driver said.

“Not very impressive, is it?” Lee said, as they got out of the cab.

“I was expecting a son of Scandinavian Pentagon, I guess.”

Rule didn’t respond. She was busy seeming not to notice a car parked down the street, with the silhouette of a man at the wheel. They went inside and found themselves in a small vestibule, faced with a set of double doors. To their right was a small window at which sat a man in uniform.

“Good morning,” Rule said to the guard.

“Would you please tell Mr. Sven Carlsson that Brooke Kirkland of Washington. D.C. is here to see him?”

“And the gentleman’s name?” “Mr. Lee. Would you say to Mr. Carlsson that he works for Senator Carr?”

“Is he expecting you?” the guard asked.

“Yes, but not necessarily at this hour, and he is not expecting Mr. Lee.”

The man made a telephone call and spoke in rapid Swedish for a few moments, then waited for what seemed a long time. Finally, he hung up.

“Someone will be down for you directly,” he said, then went back to his work.

Perhaps three minutes passed, then a woman appeared on the other side of the double doors. There was a buzzing sound, and the doors opened.

“Miss Kirkland? Mr. Lee?

Would you come with me, please?”

They walked a few yards down a hallway, then took an elevator up a couple of floors. They emerged into a hallway that was a balcony supported by marble columns, overlooking a large work area filled with desks, on the ground floor.

“It looks more like a bank than a ministry,” Lee said.

“It used to be a bank,” the woman replied.

The sounds of the work going on below was a distant murmur, barely penetrating what seemed an unnatural quiet.

The woman turned left into an oak-paneled reception room, onto which two sets of double doors opened. She knocked at the doors on her right, then opened them and ushered Rule and Lee into a comfortably furnished office overlooking the square through which they had passed. A man rose from a desk and came around to meet them.

“Miss Kirkland, I believe? I am Sven Carlsson. Senator Can- told me to expect you, but I did not know at what time.” He had quite gray hair over an unlined face, and the combination made his age difficult to guess. Somewhere between thirty-five and fifty. Rule thought. He wore rimless glasses of a modern design.

“Mr. Carlsson. it is very kind of you to see us on such short notice.” “Please,” he said. motioning them toward a leather sofa across the room.

“How can I be of service?” Carlsson asked, when they had arranged themselves.

“It is we who wish to be of service to you, Mr. Carlsson,” Rule said.

“First of all, I should tell you that my name is not Kirkland; the senator and I thought it would be better, in the circumstances, if I used that name.”

She produced her identification card.

“My name is Katharine Rule, and I am an official of the Central Intelligence Agency of the American government. I am the head of what is known as the Soviet Office, the department charged with analyzing intelligence from the Soviet Union.”

“I see,” Carlsson said. examining the card carefully.

She gestured toward Lee.

“This is Mr. Will Lee, who is Counsel to the Senate Intelligence Committee, and who is, as such, an assistant to Senator Can-.”

Will handed Carlsson his own senate identification.

“Mr. Lee.” Carlsson said.

“I believe I have heard Senator Can- speak of you when I was in Washington a short time ago.”

“We are here,” Rule said, “because we have important information concerning Swedish defense which has been developed by my department at the Central Intelligence Agency. Because of the shortness of time, and for other reasons too complicated to go into at the moment, I felt I should not wait until this information could be transmitted through normal governmental and diplomatic channels. I went to Senator Carr, and after hearing what I had to say and examining my evidence, he advised me to come directly to Stockholm and present myself to you, in the hope that you would bring this evidence to the immediate attention of the minister of defense and the prime minister.”

“Well. Miss Rule,” Carlsson said, “you have certainly gained my undivided attention. What is it you wish to tell us?”

Rule handed him the document Appicella had stolen from Majorov’s computer.

“If you will read the summary at the head of this document, that will explain the essence of what I have to tell you.”

Carlsson quickly read the brief summary, then read it again without expression. He then quickly flipped through the other pages, glancing at the contents. Finally, he looked up at Rule.

“I am flabbergasted,” he said.

“If you are who you say you are, and not a writer of spy fiction…”

He seemed to grope for words.

“May I ask the origin of this document?”

“It was taken from a computer at a secret Soviet military installation on the Latvian coast less than forty-eight hours ago,” Rule replied.

“I have every reason to believe that it is a serious statement of Soviet intentions, and not simply a training exercise or a war game. Let me show you other corroborating evidence which has come from divergent sources.”

Rule quickly took him through the same presentation she had given Senator Carr the day before. Carlsson listened with apparent growing concern, occasionally interrupting with a question. When she had finished, Carlsson was quiet for a moment.

“Tell me,” he said, finally, “do you have any indication of when this plan is to go into effect?”

“I believe it may already have begun,” Rule replied.

“I believe the Soviet submarine which your navy now has at bay in the archipelago may be a part of it, perhaps intended to provoke an incident. Mr. Carlsson, the first document I showed you states that the invasion would only be carried out under conditions of absolute surprise. If you can persuade your- minister and your prime minister to issue an immediate mobilization order, you may very well force the Soviets to abort their operation. I hope it is not already too late.”

“I see,” Carlsson said, gazing toward the windows.

“Something else,” she said.

“This morning at Stockholm airport, an American woman named Kirkland was murdered. I think I was the intended victim. Somebody knew I was coming to Stockholm. Did anyone else in Stockholm besides you know that I was coming?”

“No. No one,” Carlsson replied.

“Have you spoken to Senator Carr again since his initial call yesterday?”

“No.”

Rule slumped back into her seat.

“I see.” she said.

“Miss Rule,” Carlsson said, “I must ask to borrow for a few minutes this material you have just shown me. Will you please wait here until I return?”

“Of course,” Rule replied.

Carlsson gathered up the file and left the room.

“I think the minister’s office must be just across the reception room,” Rule said to Lee.

“Senator Can- told me their offices are adjacent.”

“I think you convinced him, Kate,” Lee said.

“He looked pretty shaken.”

“I hope so,” Rule replied.

“I hope I shook him to his roots.”

“You think Simon alerted the Soviets that you were coming to Stockholm?”

“I hate to say it of the father of my child, but it looks that way. If Senator Can- didn’t tell Carlsson my real name, then that information had to come from Washington, and Simon is shaping up awfully well as the source. I haven’t had a chance to tell you this, but he’s had a private investigator following me for weeks. I had a little confrontation with the guy at the airport on my way here. I persuaded him to talk to me, and he says Simon wants his son, which I have every reason to disbelieve. He wanted information for entirely different reasons, I think.”

“I’m sorry, Kate,” Will said.

“I know you don’t like the guy, but still…”

“Right, it won’t be very good for Peter when his father is exposed as a spy for the Soviets. There’s never been a mole in the agency, you know. All hell is going to break loose when I get back.”

The two of them sat, then paced around the office for another twenty minutes before Carlsson returned.

“I’ve talked with the minister,” he said.

“He’s on the phone to the prime minister now. He has already given the order to mobilize. By dinnertime tonight, every important military and civilian target will be secure. We cannot thank you enough. Miss Rule, Mr. Lee.”

Rule was suddenly very tired. She had come all this way, and she had been too worried to hope that her story would be believed in time.

“Mr. Carlsson, I am grateful for your trust. Is there anything else I can do to help you in this matter?”

“I don’t believe so,” Carlsson said.