The Falstaff Enigma (17 page)

"Our contact is prepared," David
said. He then took three bites of his roast beef, grabbed the gray overcoat that Austin had folded over a vacant chair, and stood. "I will be back soon. Stay here." On the way out, he stopped at the bar. With a few words and the passage of money, Margolis took a shot of vodka and threw it back. He took the time to swish the vodka in his mouth as if it was his morning mouthwash. He slammed the glass down on the counter. He was out the front door three paces later.

David paused in the first alley
he came to. With the same pen he had used to write his note to Ustinov, he ripped open the lining of the gray overcoat. He removed the passport of Alexandr Govenin and placed it neatly in his breast pocket. Then he put on the overcoat, his arms sliding in easily. As David returned to the sidewalk he assumed a slightly staggered walk. He would appear as one who had enjoyed several glasses of vodka too many but still retained some control. He let his head hang slightly from vertical, adding effort to his movement.

Believability was the key. He had to make sure that neither KGB watchman
followed him into the building. The Mossad master spy reached the portal of Ustinov's building. He stopped, stepped back a half foot and steadied himself against a lamppost to check the address. Satisfied with his performance, he headed into the building. Nobody followed.

Finding flat No. 32 was easy. David simply hobbled up the stairs to the fourth floor. The room was on his right. He knocked twice. After a moment the door opened a foot, revealing a slender, dark haired woman of forty. She wore blue jeans and a red turtleneck velour shirt. By Moscow standards, she was quite attractive and still firmly among the younger crowd at forty.

"Yes?"

"May I s-speak with Alexei?" David's words were slurred but controlled.

"There's no Alexei here." She closed the door.

David waited ten seconds before knocking again.

The door opened. "I told you there is no Alexei here. Now go away, you drunkard, or I will call the militia." She closed the door with greater finality.

This time David waited a half
minute and knocked much harder. He had success.

Vladimir Ustinov opened his door and stepped out in front of the taller drunk. "What do you want?"

David reached into his breast pocket. "Alexei, is it you?" He quickly embraced the scientist.

"This comes from your late friend in Israel. Read it alone,"
David whispered. He relaxed his hug and placed the note and passport in Ustinov's right hand. The scientist's eyes widened with fear, yet he reacted perfectly, stuffing the two items into the front of his trousers.

"There is no Alexei
here. Leave. Please."

"You are not Alexei?"

"No."

"Then Alexei is here," said David as he started toward another door.

"No. There is no Alexei in this building. Go."

David tu
rned and headed down the stairs. He had done his job and would have to wait twenty-four hours to know if he had succeeded. Yet he added a final touch; he knocked on two more doors, asking for "Alexei" and playing out the charade. Ustinov's door alone would have been too obvious.

The scientist walked into the kitchen. His wife was preparing a snack of bread and cheese.

"A drunk," Vladimir Ustinov said.

"You mean 'another drunk,’ don't you? Wish they would do something about these people. Maybe I should call the militia?"

"No, forget it. He'll sleep it off somewhere. No harm done."

The scientist went into the bathroom
and locked the door behind him. He pulled the passport and note from his pants. He opened the passport first. His hands began trembling as the photograph burned into his mind, bringing back memories of the man he had spent years working with, the man he respected, the man who was wronged by the country he loved and finally killed by a government out of control. Vladimir turned on the cold water, cupped his hands and placed his face in the pool that quickly formed.

After drying his hands, he unfolded the note:

Dr. Govenin was murdered by the same men who killed
Vazhnevsky. The doctor died trying to tell me what you told him. Now you must tell me directly. For him.

Meet me tomorrow at Ostankino Cafe. Go twenty minutes after you get home, order dinner, follow me to restroom and we will speak there. His wife told me you gave him a matryoshka doll for his sixtieth birthday and on the smallest doll was carved E=
mc2. Destroy this note and the passport NOW.

Incredible!
Only Alexandr Govenin's wife could know about that doll. The drunk was a Western agent and would now meet with Vladimir Ustinov in twenty-four hours. The old scientist who was murdered in Tel Aviv would be avenged. It was the least Ustinov could do. He still had some hope to stop this madness.

The scientist ripped up the note and the passport and flushed the evidence down the toilet.
Twenty-four hours.

Ustinov worked late the next day. He wanted to have an excuse to go out without his wife, so he intentionally came home at sunset. His wife was already asleep when he arrived at his flat. It would now be easy for him to head to the neighborhood café for a late dinner.

The pair of displaced Westerners had almost given up when Austin finally saw the Soviet scientist arrive home for the night. They immediately headed to Ostankino Café.

This time Austin entered the small cafe first. The same old man with the same bemedaled tunic was sitting at the same table as the night before. Now he was playing chess with another old man. The time between each move was punctuated with discussion over the efficacy of the latest five-year plan. Another pair of men battled silently over a chessboard two tables away. The young manager shuttled back and forth between the tables offering advice to any player who lent an ear.

Austin went to the counter and placed
two orders for beef Stroganoff. David sat at the same table they had used the night before. He estimated Ustinov's arrival to be in fifteen minutes.

Twenty
minutes later, David had eaten only two bites, his meal cooling rapidly. "How good is your chess?"

"Pretty mediocre. Why?" the analyst
replied.

"Because we can't spend the
rest of the night eating this."

"Then finish it and I will get a board."

"You're on." Both men ate in silence for several more minutes.

"What's your guess?" asked A
ustin after finishing his food.

"About what?"

"Will he show up?"

"Yes, just give him time."

Austin took his plate to the counter and asked for a chess set. The manager jumped up immediately, a smile on his lips. Another pair of chess players to give advice to.

Forty minutes later, David enjoyed a commanding position. Chess had never been Austin's game. When it came to mental pursuits, he preferred bridge. Every few minutes the manager came over long enough to shake his head at the analyst's ineptitude and whisper
a string of moves into his ear. Austin made sure to reject every suggestion, costing him dearly each time.

Vladimir Ustinov walked in. The scientist was wearing a black overcoat that added bulk to his wiry body. His eyes drooped. He had slept poorly the night before. Sweat formed on his forehead. He paused just inside the door and scanned the small room qu
ickly. His eyes swept over his contact without pausing. He went to the counter and ordered onion soup and bread. He took a table close to the old man.

The distance was professionally timed; the two KGB agents entered the cafe and sat
down at the table nearest the door. The older of the pair walked to the counter and placed their order.

David had expected the KGB men; he was gambling that neither would
follow Ustinov to the bathroom. If he was wrong then the scientist would be keeping his secret. The key would be in David's timing, and for that he would draw on all his experience.

A half hour passed. Ustinov was nearly finished with his soup, trying desperately to keep his mind calm by watching the old man play chess against his slightly younger and far better opponent. David looke
d at Austin and gave him a wink. The time had come. On David's next move he rearranged the board with the move of his remaining bishop and his queen. He leaned back and in a contented voice proclaimed "checkmate" at a volume above conversation level. He stood up and instructed his chess partner to set the board up again. He headed for the bathroom.

The physicist played his part well. He calmly sipped another spoonful of soup, checked his watch and stood. He asked the manager where the restroom was and headed in the indicated direction.

The bathroom was small and dirty with one stall and one commode. David stood against the commode, feigning urination. Ustinov stepped in, closing the door behind him. David immediately turned around, zipping up his pants. He stepped over to the wash basin and turned on the water.

"Who are you?" whispered the scientist.

"I'm with Western intelligence."

"Which one?"

"CIA. Please tell me what you told Govenin."

"Speak to me in English."

"Our time is short. Please tell me now. It's your last chance." David had spoken in English.

"Okay. I know that Pyotr Timenko was killed by the KGB. The
general did not die of a heart attack." The physicist was very excited and talking fast.

"How?"

"Poison."

“Who?”

"I think it was a specially trained KGB team. That's what I've heard."

"From whom?"

"I have many friends. I was told this by a general. I believe him."

"Who?"

"I will not say."

"Why was Timenko killed?"

"He did not know and neither do I."

"Did you hear any other names mentioned'?"

"No."

“What about Vazhnevsky?”

“I know nothing about his death but Timenko was his senior aide. You can connect the same dots I can.”

"Now go home and never, ever tell anyone about me."

David walked out and went back to start a new chess game. The two KGB men watched him closely as he returned to his table. Moments later, Ustinov emerged. He picked up the small portion of bread left on his plate and walked out. The two watchdogs waited less than a minute before following the scientist. David and Austin continued to play. They would finish another game before leaving.

"Mate," David
said as he checked his watch. It was almost midnight and it had been over an hour since Ustinov had departed.

"I think I need some more experience before we play again," Austin
replied, embarrassed over his inability to give the Mossad spy even a challenge.

"I won't argue with you over that one, Andrei." David stood, collected the pieces and returned the set to the manager.

"I was watching you play," said the manager, as if David didn't know. "We are having a small tournament here next week. I would like you to enter. What's your name?"

David forced a smile. "I can't. I will be out of town." He quickly broke off the conversation and walked out of the restaurant, motioning for Austin to follow.

The pair emerged onto the street to find the temperature had dropped down to thirty-five degrees. The analyst exhaled through his mouth two times to watch the hot carbon dioxide form miniature clouds.

"What did that guy want?"
Austin asked.

"Just for me to play in some tournament next week."
Margolis replied.

Austin looked around and saw no one else on the street.
"What did he tell you?"

"Your original missing man was killed. He thought a KGB team was responsible but he didn't know why."

"How did he find out?"

"He said he has friends in high places and he heard from a general he declined to name."

"Do you believe him?"

"Very much so.
The real question is whether or not he is being used as a pawn, but l have no information that disputes his theory. In fact, his explanation is really the only thing that fits logically."

"So we have our confirmation."

"Yes, Andrei, we have our confirmation and we know for sure what we are up against."

"The KGB,
" Austin stated flatly.

"Exactly.
Or at least elements thereof."

"A purge?"

"What else could it be?" David turned his head to his right to gauge Austin's response.

The movement caught David's eye. The exchanging of light and shadow as the figure glided along the sidewalk, his steps in unison with the two false citizens. The man slipped in and out of the light quietly. Professionally.

"Big problem," David said in a low volume. "We picked up a KGB tail across the street. Do not look. We're going to take him out and then get our asses out of Moscow. I'm not about to rot in the Lubyanka.”

"Isn't there another way?"

"I'm not going to kill him, just incapacitate him for a brief time. Do you have an alternate plan?"

Austin knew he ha
d to trust his ex-college mate. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing. Just follow me."

They were two buildings short of their apartment dwelling when David turned into an entrance hall. The front door was unlocked, as were all. The two men walked up the stairs to the second floor hallway. David walked down the hall until he reached the first ninety-degree turn to the left. He took up his position behind the corner and motioned for Austin to stand in front of the next door down the hall. "When I point at you then make some noise as if opening the door," David said in a whisper. His voice betrayed the adrenalin flowing through his body.

The front door opened and closed; the KGB man was following. David was counting on the fact that the man needed to know their room. He was right. David listened for the steps on the stairs. When he heard the man near the second floor, he pointed to Austin. The analyst coughed lightly and scratched the tip of a pen against the metal face of the door's ancient lock. It sounded close enough to a key to do the job. The KGB man inched slowly toward the corner where David waited. David motioned with his left hand for Austin to be quiet. Austin turned the knob, paused a second and had enough play in the door to pull it back against the jamb, producing a sound similar to slowly closing the door.

The sounds were what the Soviet agent wanted to hear. He turned the corner at a leisurely pace, both hands in his overcoat pockets. David's right arm shot up from his side, pivoting first to his left shoulder and then exploding outward. The two big knuckles of his fist met the Russian's throat just below the Adam's apple. The man grunted and his knees buckled while David's upper body shifted forward, thrusting his left fist into the man's solar plexus. Austin could hear the air leave the man's lungs as he fell to both knees, his hands still in his pockets. In a single flowing motion, David stepped behind the man, wrapped his left arm around his neck and placed his right arm in a position to guarantee that the KGB agent did not pull out his weapon. The stunned man was unconscious within a minute.

David turned him on his back and began frisking his body. He immediately found the man's small Tokarev automatic pistol in a shoulder holster and pocketed the weapon. Moving down the unconscious torso, David felt nothing but some bills and change in one thigh pocket. He tilted the man onto one side so that he could check both hip pockets. In one was a wallet. The Mossad agent pulled it out but stopped as it cleared the pocket. The open overcoat had
fallen back on the floor behind the stricken KGB man, revealing a lump in his sweater right at the small of his back. David dropped the wallet and pulled the man's sweater and shirt up from his waist.

Oh God, I'm going to rot in a Soviet prison. I love you, Lynn
. Austin recognized the device taped to the KGB agent's back as soon as David did. It was a short-range radio transmitter and that meant that other KGB agents were in the area.

David released his grip on the man and started back toward the stairs,
motioning for Austin to follow. Both men were on the ground level before either spoke. “Now we're on the run, my friend. We can get out through the back and get our things from the room,” David said.

Austin did not reply. He was too busy trying to fight the fear entering his thoughts. He desperately searched his mind for avenues of escape from Moscow, but he could think of none. He resigned himself to
blindly following his college friend.

They reached the building's rear door and paused. David opened it slightly. The alley behind the building was only about six feet wide, acting more as a firebreak than an alleyway. But David was pleased. The alley was dark, with only a small light bulb burning every forty or fifty feet. He saw no one. "Stay here until I'm inside our building," he said to the DIA analyst. David walked the thirty feet to the rear of the apartment building where the two men had been staying. His pace was quick but short of a run. He tried the door and it opened. The relative lack of crime in Moscow led to a lack of security measures; a simple door lock on one's apartment was generally sufficient.

Austin followed and the men were inside their room in two minutes. It took only two more minutes to gather the small amount of possessions they had with them. Austin walked to the window.

"Why the hell did I bring this?" David
said, holding the Russian automatic. "It will only get us killed, if anything."

“Forget it. Look at this," said Austin. David went to the wind
ow. On one end of the street stood a young man with an overcoat that went down to his calves. He bent his head down slightly and spoke into his lapel. "He's talking to them." Austin pointed down the street in the other direction. Two men were walking very slowly toward the two Western spies, checking each entrance hall as they passed. A car was parked a hundred feet behind the two KGB agents on the street. It had three more men inside.