Spandau Phoenix (40 page)

"One gentleman to another," said Harry, his eyes on Kosov.

Kosov chuckled, then nodded to Misha, who broug it out his stiletto and cut through the sticky mess like tissue paper.

Rykov laid a hand on the Skorpion machine pistol in his belt.

"Now that you're comfortable," said Kosov in heavily accented English, "what have you to tell me?"

"What do you want to know?"

"What you were doing at Klaus Seeckt's house."

"Routine debriefing," Harry said offhandedly. "Twice monthly."

"He's lying!" Rykov snapped in Russian. "He almost broke down the door trying to get in!"

Kosov looked to Corporal Ivanov for corroboration.

"He's right," Andrei admitted grudgingly. "Nothing routine about it.

The major also speaks excellent Russian."

"You see, Major?" Kosov said. "There's no point in trying to deceive me. I regret that my men brought you here at all, of course.

I asked for a German policeman, I got back an American major. An unfortunate accident. But now that the mistake has been made, I intend to use the opportunity to ask you a few questions. You would do the same, I think."

Harry shrugged.

"I simply wish to know the details of your relationship with Klaus Seeckt. Then I can make arrangements for your safe return to West Berlin."

Harry almost laughed. Mistake or not, the Russians had kidnapped him.

To return him now would be admitting it, and they wouldn't do that. Even if Colonel Rose had known he was going to Klaus's house-which Rose hadn'the would have no way of knowing Harry had been taken into the DDR.

He might eventually suspect it, but by then the chances of getting Harry back would be.slim. And if the Russians moved him any father east, the odds fell to zero.

This situation required desperate measures. Shock tactics.

Looking straight at Kosov, Harry crossed his legs and began to speak flawless, aristocratic Russian.

"You'd better write this down, Kosov. If you bungle this, Chairman Zemenek will have you back in the Fifth Chief Directorate so fast you won't have time to pack your shorts.

You'll be chasing filthy Tatars for the rest of your life."

Kosov started, both at the perfection of Richardson's Russian and the reference to his old job. "What do you know about me, Major?" he asked warily.

"Only what's necessary. Which isn't much, I'm afraid.

Ivan Leonidovich Kosov: Born Moscow 1943, entered service 1962, excelled at repression in the provinces-notably Azerbaijan-for the Second Chief Directorate. That and your father-in-law's influence got you transferred to Directorate 'K' in 1971, stationed Yugoslavia. A little more competent than the average K-man, you obtained a posting to the East Berlin Rezidentura in 1978, where you've performed @uately for the past ten years."

"Leave us," Kosov told his men.

Axel Goltz spoke up angrily. "But Colonel@' "Now!" bellowed Kosov.

"Only Misha remains."

When the others had left the room, Kosov said, "Your Russian is excellent, Major. You have a good memory. So what? You think I don't know as much about you?"

Harry looked over at the predatory Misha standing motionless in the shadows. "No, Colonel, I don't. There is a gap in your ...

'consciousness,' shall we say?"

Kosov grunted. "What kind of gap?"

"The fact that we occasionally work for the same team.

Broadly speaking. I went to Klaus Seeckt's house tonight to deliver a message."

"Come now, Major, I would know if you had any connection with KGB."

Harry snorted. "You think you're made aware of everything that happens in Berlin? Perhaps you are a fool, Kosov."

The Russian paled as he held up a hand to restrain Misha.

'You speak confidently for a man facing death," he said softly.

"I thought you were sending me bapk to West Berlin."

Kosov grimaced. "Tell me, do you have any proof of this fantastic story? The rich American who secretly serves the worker's paradise?"

Harry played out a little more bait. "I assume you, fare miliar with the Twelfth Department of your Directorate?"

Kosov nodded almost imperceptibly.

"My contact is Yuri Borodin. Klaus Seeckt was one of our conduits."

Kosov blinked. "What can this fiction profit you, Major?

An extra hour of confusion? You are going to Moscow regardless of what you say here, and it's there your fate will be decided."

Kosov sounded confident, but Harry had seen the doubt flicker into his eyes at the mention of the Twelfth Department. The Twelfth Department was an elite branch of the KGB-an all-star team recruited from veterans of other KGB departments who had proved themselves expert at moving in international society. Developed under Yuri Andropov, the Twelfth Department had more autonomy than any other branch of the service; its agents were allowed to pursue their chosen quarry anywhere in the world.

Harry's personal history of wealth and privilege made him an excellent target for a man like Yuri Borodin; plus he had seen Borodin in the company of Klaus Seeckt. He thought his desperate story might stand up to perhaps an hour's scrutiny.

"Tell me about this mysterious message, Major," said Kosov.

My God, thought Harry. He's buying it. "Sorry, Colonel," he said gravely. "The message is for Borodin alone."

"You had better tell me something," Kosov warned. "Or I may see fit to let Misha persuade you. He's most eager to do so."

Harry gave a sardonic smile. "That's about what I'd expect from an old Second Directorate thug."

Kosov came up out of his chair. He moved very fast for a big man.

For a moment Harry thought he had carried things too far, but the Russian sat down again, albeit slowly.

Harry didn't want to push Kosov over the edge@nly up to it.

"I'm waiting," Kosov rasped.

Here goes, Harry thought. In the past two minutes he had pieced together the most plausible story he could from the meager facts he possessed about the Spandau case. Play out the bait, wait for the strike . . . "I can tell you this much, Colonel," he said, "U.S.

Military Intelligence is fully aware of the content of the papers found at Spandau Prison. While your moronic thugs were kidnapping me, our State Department was considering a request from the British government to turn over an abstract of those papers to mI-5. My message for Borodin concerns those papers, and if you don't appreciate the sensitivity of that issue, it's your misfortune. So, why don't you get off your fat ass and verify my story before you sabotage what remains of your less-than-illustrious career."

It was a shot in the dark, but it struck home.

Kosov stood up and studied Harry. "An interesting story, Major.

Tell me, how is our oneeyed friend these. days?"

Harry felt a jolt of confusion. Kosov had blind sighted him.

Oneeyed friend? Did Kosov mean Yuri Borodin? As far as Harry knew, Borodin had two perfectly good eyes. Harry racked his memory for a oneeyed man, but all he could come up with was a black kid from Baltimore who'd lost both his eyes to shrapnel in the DMZ. Jesus- "I don't quite get you, Colonel," he said lamely.

Kosov smiled. "Well, then, Major, how about the Spandau papers?

Did they mention any names?"

"Several. Hess, for one."

"Naturally. Any others?"

"None I'd care to mention," Harry said tersely, feeling the noose closing around him.

"I'll mention a few, then." The Russian grinned. "Tell me if you recognize any. Chernov? Frolov?" Kosov waited.

"No? How about Zinoviev?"

Just the house wine, thanks, Harry thought crazily. He felt cold sweat heading on the back of his neck. Russian names?

What the hell could they have to do with Spandau?

"Well, Major?"

"Zinoviev," Harry whispered.

Kosov blanched. "Rykov!"

The three agents rushed back into the room like hungry Dobermans.

Kosov seized his overcoat from a rack by the door and issued orders while he pulled it on.

"Hold the major here until I,return from headquarters. I need to call Moscow and I want a line the Stasi can't tap."

"But Herr Oberst!" Axel Goltz objected, venting his anxiety at last.

"We can't keep an American here! If Rose finds out, the reaction could be very severe. Why@' "Stop whining!" Kosov snapped.

"Act like a German, for God's sake! You can manage without me for an hour.

Misha?"

The black-clad killer whipped open the door. Kosov hurried through and crunched down the snowy drive, his silent footpad on his heels. The door banged shut.

Harry sat completely still. He couldn't quite believe that his desperate ploy had worked. One brief glance through the open door had told him what he wanted to know-that the room they now occupied stood at ground level, not on the tenth floor of some human warehouse in Pankow-Quickly he mapped the room in his mind: Andrei and Goltz by the deal table; a sofa with a broken spine against the far wall; a large curtained window at right angles to the sofa; Kosov's empty chair, facing him; one door leading to the room where he had been held earlier, and another-guarded by Rykovleading outside.

The three agents glowered at each other as if they had been arguing in the other room.

"You fellows find a lot to talk about back there?" Harry asked in Russian, his tone insulting.

Andrei scowled, but Rykov only smiled and leaned against the outside door, resting his injured leg.

Suddenly Axel Goltz spoke up. "What is Kosov doing, Comrades?"

When the Russians didn't respond, Goltz scratched thoughtfully behind his right ear. "What did the major tell him that weakened his resolve?"

"Relax," said Rykov. "We have everything under control."

Goltz's nostrils flared. "Under control? You don't even know what's going on! I know this man Richardson, he's a skilled agent. I can't believe Kosov fell for his tricks."

"The colonel knows what he's doing," Rykov said evenly.

He curled his lip in distaste. "Stop scratching your head, Goltz.

You look like a mangy old hound."

The East German flushed. "It's a wound," he said. He cocked his head to the side, exposing a small white bandage behind his ear. "A skinhead threw a brick in a riot. Four stitches to close it."

Rykov snorted with contempt. "Probably a Jew! They'll revenge themselves on you Germans yet!"

Goltz ground his teeth furiously.

"What tricks of mine were you referring,to?" Harry cut in.

"Perhaps you, like Kosov, are unaware of certain important facts."

"Find another fool, Major," Goltz snapped. "Be glad I'm not in charge of you."

Harry kept smiling, but inside he shivered. He had always believed the Stasi far superior to the KGB in all areas of intelligence work, and he was glad to see Goltz in the minority tonight. Rykov tacitly admined this with his next question.

"What would you do with him, Goltz, if you were in command?"

"Kill him. Simplest for all parties concerned."

Harry felt a tremor of fear.

"You're a cold one," Rykov observed.

Goltz shrugged.

"What about his intelligence value?"

The Stasi man pulled a wry face. "I don't think he knows a damned thing about Spandau."

"He might."

"Drug him senseless, then. But he's got to disappear."

"Goltz is right," Harry agreed. "]Leave it to the Germans to come up with the most efficient solution."

"What the hell does that mean?" Andrei asked from the table.

Now we're getting somewhere, Harry thought. "Just what it seems to mean, Corporal. That ever since the Second World War, the East Germans have run rings around their Russian masters."

Goltz bowed his head slightly, acknowledging a selfevident truth.

Andrei flushed axid rose from the table.

"Pay no attention to him, Andrei," R@kov said. "He's only trying to provoke us."

"That's right, Corporal," Harry taunted. "Follow your captain's example. I insult him, and what does he do? Lies back and takes it, like a good Russian."

Andrei charged from the table. Harry darted out of the chair and sidestepped him. "Now, now, Corporal, I advise you to treat me with discretion. When Kosov returns, he'll enlighten you as to my privileged status within your organization."

"My God!" Goltz cried. "He's insufferable! He insults your homeland to your face, then tells,you that he secretly serves it? Are you complete fools?"

"It's Kosov's responsibility," Rykov said slowly. "He'll be back soon."

The Russian captain squinted at Harry. "And while we wait, Major Richardson is going to tell us exactly what was found at Spandau last night."

Harry caught a sudden, furtive alertness in Axel Goltz's eyes. "I just might do that, Captain," he @d lightly, his eye on the But German.