Crate of Lies, page 14
He started jogging, trying to think. Liebermann's signature showed all over the White House suite. Harry would know that and so would Garret but they wouldn't be able to tell the American Ambassador in Moscow that. Any thought of further involvement into the arms issue were gone but Harry would have that covered. That left the Amber Room and in that, Harry and the President had no cover. Their only man was on the run. The embassy was out of bounds and getting in touch with Harry was imperative.
He fingered the outline of the card in his trouser pocket. Nina had to be in. She was the only hope for a safe house. He knew she lived in the north of the city. The card gave her number, nothing else. He needed to find her and quick. It was either that or at least a year in a Russian prison before any trial, that's if there ever was one. Forget Glasnost, Harry's words started to ring in his ears. Never trust a country that runs on vodka and kills itself with nuclear waste.
Reaching the bridge, he turned onto it without looking back. Liebermann wasn't going to kill him, not yet. He was after the room. It never occurred to him that Liebermann's evil mind would execute such a ghastly plan with comparative ease so soon. Harry warned him to be on his guard. Nausea overtook him and he stopped, bent over and was violently sick. This was no good, he told himself, he had to overcome any feelings and think clearly.
His resolve hardened as he realised Liebermann would be standing at the other end of the bridge behind him, enjoying the scene and the chaos he had caused. The man was an animal. Raithe resisted the urge to turn and glare.
It was more or less a straight walk to the American ambassador's residence, less than half a mile away from the bridge. Sanctuary beckoned but with it, failure and a diplomatic nightmare. Jerusalem didn't know he was in Moscow; let alone what he was there for.
To the left of the bridge, on the opposite bank of the river, he spotted a telephone box. Fortunately, the embassy gave him coinage. He remembered the chauffeur and gritted his teeth. Liebermann would not be able to trace the call. The Russians were not that friendly, even to ex friends from the Stasi. He made his way to some steps leading down onto the embankment road.
A few minutes later he dialled Nina's number and cursed when a machine answered him. As he started to leave a message, Nina broke in.
"Mr. Producer man, how nice to hear from you."
"Nina, I want to see you again. It's urgent."
"Of course Raithe. Tonight? What time?"
"No, you don't understand. I need to see you now."
There was some almost hysterical laughing on the other end of the line. "Darling, I love you too. I cannot wait to be with you again but you will have to wait until tonight."
"Nina, this isn't about sex. I'm in trouble and I need your help."
After a moment's silence, she said, "How much trouble?"
"I've got a couple of thousand dollars."
"Niet, niet, niet. That is too much trouble. Go away, Mr. Producer."
"Nina, I need somewhere to hide. You're the only person I know here. Please."
"You are not getting me into trouble. I have no problems with the authorities."
"One night, Nina, that's all I need."
"Who is after you?"
"It doesn't matter. They won't know my whereabouts. It isn't the authorities," he lied.
"I don't know if I can trust you." There was silence.
"Nina?"
"Da. Let me think. Do you know how to get to the zoo?"
Raithe visualised the map of Moscow he remembered studying. The zoo, now rundown, lay to the north.
"Yes, it's a pretty straight run from here. I could be there in an hour."
"Why so long?"
"I've got to lose someone."
He stood in the telephone box and caught sight of the head peering down at him from the balustrade of the bridge above him. From where he was, Liebermann would take less than thirty seconds to reach him. He turned his head from left to right. There had to be a car. Somewhere a colleague was waiting in a car to pick Liebermann up or take up station ahead. A grey Volvo stood at the kerb on the opposite side of the street facing the way he wanted to go.
A gust of wind coming off the river caught Raithe's hair and blew a few long black strands across his face. He brushed them aside and shivered. The wind was icy cold.
A tram was making its way off the bridge and coming towards him. He cuffed his forehead before taking his wallet from the inside pocket of the bomber jacket. Removing a travel coupon from the wallet, he waited until the tram drew abreast of the Volvo before darting across the street and hopping onto it as it passed.
"Pazhalsta." Please was one of the few Russian words he used often. He held the coupon out to a woman sitting in front of the crowded car. She passed it along until it reached another passenger by the ticket punch. It came back to him a moment later. He thanked the woman. "Spasiba."
Raithe looked back out of a side window but saw nothing except pedestrians and traffic coming the other way. It would be about then that Liebermann reached the car. If the tram did not turn soon, the Volvo would be behind him very shortly. Up ahead lay a turning to the right, away from the river. On the corner stood a small petrol station and next to it a coffee bar. He leaned out of the doorway and saw the Volvo, five cars behind. If he jumped from the tram he would be in the middle of the road, trying to cross behind the tram and in front of the following traffic.
He spotted the red emergency handle and pulled it without thinking. Before the tram lurched to a halt, he was at its rear and stepping into the path of oncoming traffic. There were several angry shouts and loud blasts from horns. A car swerved to one side amid squealing brakes, the driver brandishing a fist at him as he darted across the pavement and into the road next to the petrol station. Liebermann would be close behind.
Raithe kept looking ahead and ran past the petrol station kiosk. At the end of the forecourt a narrow lane, big enough for vehicle access, led off behind the buildings that fronted the main road facing the river. As he reached the lane he looked back over his shoulder. He was on the blind side of the kiosk and there was no sign of Liebermann.
The cold air burnt the back of his throat as he ran down the lane. Fifty metres ahead he could see the exit into the next street. Desperate and breathing hard, he looked for a hiding place. He dived into a small courtyard and found a brick store, its door hanging from one hinge. With care, he eased himself into the store without touching the door.
The sound of pounding feet came toward him and past the store a few seconds later. He stood still, hardly daring to breathe, knowing Liebermann's car was at the other end of the lane. Raithe tried to think. Liebermann would know he was hiding amongst the buildings and wait to flush him out unless he could find a way to slip the net.
There was a bang as a door at the rear of the building behind him opened. A middle-aged woman walked past the half open door of the store and out into the lane. Raithe ran across the small yard, just catching the door before it closed. Inside, he found a passage that ran through the building to the front entrance.
A shaft of sunlight shining through the glass doors and the movement of people and traffic noise were like a beacon. He moved quickly along the brown linoleum passage, pushing past a couple of startled women at the foot of some ornate iron stairs.
Pushing through the entrance and jumping down three steps took him back to the pavement and the main street outside. A dilapidated, blue trolley bus came along the street, heading north. The next stop was somewhere up ahead by the next bend in the river. He judged it to be around a hundred metres and ran. The trolley bus, caught in the morning rush hour, reached the stop just behind him. Out of breath, he boarded the bus and sat just behind the driver.
Leaning forward, he asked, "Zoo?"
"Da."
Raithe sat back, relieved. The bus trundled on, the route winding its way to Red Square before turning north-west and back out of the city centre to the zoo. He stepped off and realised that he made no arrangements with Nina on where they should meet. He assumed she would be waiting somewhere obvious, maybe outside the old arched entrance. After waiting a few minutes, he walked to the kiosk and bought a ticket.
Inside, he saw her at once, sitting on a bench by the some railings. He walked slowly over and sat next to her. The low lighting and Scotch had not dulled his senses that much the night before. She was as beautiful as he first thought. The scent was the same but apart from that, there was no make-up, not a hint of the pink lipstick. A breeze blew her hair across her face. She pushed it back and smiled.
"Thanks for coming."
"Your friends, they are lost…gone?"
"Yes."
"Good, then I show you the zoo."
Raithe smiled. If he wanted a favour it was going to cost him patience as well as money. "Nina, it's very important that I have somewhere to hide for tonight. The longer I stay out in the open the more dangerous it is for me."
She ignored him. "You know, Mr. Producer, you should make a movie about our zoo park."
He looked across the park at some old buildings. "Perhaps I should. Your city was going to build a new one some time ago."
"They don't have the money but our zoo here is being rebuilt. Look." She pointed across the park to where a couple of cranes spoilt the skyline above the trees. "Ever since I was a little girl I have come here. I will never leave my wonderful city. When you go home you tell them that Moskva is a wonderful place. The people are beautiful too, no?" She looked coyly at him and then laughed.
"Yes, they are," he agreed. "Come on then, if you insist." He rose and held a hand out. "Let's try to act like a couple. If my friends think of coming here they'll only be looking for a man alone I hope."
"But we are a couple, darling," she said demurely, rising and kissing him on the cheek.
Impulsively, he drew her to him and took her in his arms. "I-" Her lips stopped him from saying another word as she clasped her hands behind his neck.
"Come on," she giggled, pulling him by the hand. "Let me first show you the animal island. It's a nice, uhm, how you say, big rocky? We have bears and tigers and ienas there."
"Rock…and the animal is called a hyena, not 'iena'."
They ambled along in front of a group of schoolchildren, Raithe ever watchful around him. An hour later, they crossed over the Passage Bridge and into the second half of the park."I want lunch," Nina suddenly announced. "Let's go to the Silver Ostap. It's the new restaurant not far from here. You like jazz, Raithe?"
"Very much. What else is on the menu?"
"Chicken satsivi. You'll love it. Before that you will have zakuski, that's horrdervs," she said, clumsily.
"Hors d'ourves," he corrected.
"Whatever. I can't say that word."
"It's French, don't worry."
"You don't like French?"
"I love anything French." He walked on, mumbling, "Except the people."
Twenty minutes later they reached the restaurant, situated on a main thoroughfare that ran from the city centre to the western outskirts. Four hundred kilometres further, the road passed into Belarus, as did the railway line twenty-five kilometres north of it at a small hamlet called Rudhja. Max had given him details of the main line routes going west as well as east. Freight going to Berlin by rail would almost certainly go via Rudhja to Minsk and on to Warsaw, Poland.
Raithe remembered all this as they sat at a table inside. He was desperate to speak to Harry. Harry would be able to speak to Jeffery Greenbaum, the CIA statistics expert who might be able to sift through old records for some vital information about the shipment. The likelihood was that it moved on further east. No-one would try to hide the room in Moscow.
"Are you hungry?"
Raithe smiled. "Of course. You choose for me."
She waved her fingers at a small collection of dishes in the middle of the table. There were stuffed eggs, cold cuts of ham and sausage, smoked herring, tomatoes and red caviar. "Horrders."
Raithe opened his mouth to correct her again but saw the look on her face and laughed. Nina was not just a beautiful woman; she also had a great sense of humour. "As you say," he said, "Horrders." He picked up a fork.
A waiter brought two small glasses of vodka and left the bottle in an ice bucket.
Nina looked up at him, glass in hand. "Spasiba."
"Pazhalsta." He turned to Raithe as he left. "Thank you."
"He knew I was a foreigner," said Raithe.
Nina lent forward and held his hand. "You eat horrders with a fork. Niet, niet, niet. I show you." She buried three fingers and a thumb into a dish, withdrew a little caviar and deposited the contents into her upturned mouth. "Da?" She picked up a stuffed egg and took a bite. "Da? And between each we do this." She downed the glass of vodka in one gulp.
He downed his own. "Nina, I have to call someone."
"Raithe, enjoy your meal. In Moskva, we enjoy our meal. It is a very, how do you say this thing, soshib."
Raithe burst into laughter. "Sociable. God, you're impossible."
"We will go back to my little place later and you will call then. Now eat, Mr. Producer."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Harry rushed into his office and past his startled secretary. "Mary, call Jerusalem and tell them that I'm going to Moscow. It's in connection with Raithe's disappearance. Get me a flight right away. In the meantime, get me the american Ambassador."
"The one you just left or the one you're going to see?"
"Garret."
"Raithe is missing?"
"Yes, no time now, Mary. I'll call you from Moscow to keep you posted. If you hear from Raithe in the meantime, you know it's only me you talk to."
Five minutes later, as he packed his attaché, the phone rang. He snatched it up.
"Michael, no time to explain but things are going to happen within twenty-four hours. Whatever happens, if Jerusalem makes any noises at you or the President, I want you all to back me up. I'm in Moscow helping your people find Raithe and I shall be calling Tel Aviv from there. As and when he appears, I will debrief Raithe before the CIA questions him. I'll make arrangements for that to happen at the ambassador's residence."
Harry grabbed some papers from his desk and tossed them into his case as he spoke.
"With regards Lightfoot, perhaps you could leave word with your embassy in Berlin just in case. I'm incommunicado for a couple of days. He's to call you if I'm not available. Tell him that the freight we are expecting is on its way in or out of Berlin and won't be with him for another five days. That gives him ample time to get himself and his contacts in place at the airport." He stopped to draw breath. "I've got to go, Michael. It's back to the wall time here."
"I understand, Harry. I'm not going to ask but presume it'll take a few days for you to find Raithe. A U.S. Marine murdered in Moscow whilst on official duty makes national news back home and remember, the CIA don't know about the room. They will think Raithe is involved with the smugglers and that means you're not going to get any favours out of them. You know where I am if you want backup."
Harry put the phone down. The phone rang again as Mary popped her head around the door.
"Raithe on the business line."
"Good." Harry flicked the conference button as he gathered some papers.
"Harry?" Raithe sounded far away, his voice soft.
"I hear that the monument outside St Basil's is a good place to catch a guided tour around noon, especially the day after tomorrow. See you there."
"Right."
The line went dead. Harry stood looking at the phone. The boy was reacting properly. He was still in the city and avoiding the Americans. He was thinking on his feet. That, at least, was a good sign.
"Mary, have you booked a flight?" he said, picking up his attaché and overnight bag. The bag was always packed and sat in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. There was a similar bag at his home.
"Yes, you have BA from Heathrow in ninety minutes. A limousine will be here shortly from our embassy. The airline knows the ticket has diplomatic status and a seat is reserved first class. Now have you got your medication and is there a scarf in that bag?" she fussed. "I'm sure it's very cold in Moscow. You haven't even got a coat with you, Harry."
"Mary, will you stop it, please? It's August, woman and yes, I have my medication. If Elsa were with us today -"
"If Elsa were alive today she would agree with me that you don't look after yourself. Please don't do that, Harry."
He flicked ash on the carpet.
"What would I do without you?" He waved and slammed out of the door.
***
The arrivals hall looked quite bleak. The coffee shop and bar, the post office and bank all shut. There was no one in the militia post although monitors were being scrutinised in another post up on the second floor. Security spent ten minutes looking at his passport before stamping it. He walked across the empty floor with a dozen or so fellow travellers towards the exit. Outside, harsh bright lamps shone down on a row of taxis and behind them, a couple of buses shuttling passengers to the Metro.
"Harry. Harry Cohen, you old dog. How the hell are you?"
A long, black limousine pulled up in front of the doors as Harry stepped out into the chill night air. The tinted rear window was down and a familiar face greeted him.
"Jeffery, so they sent you, did they?"
The door opened and Harry climbed in. Jeffery Greenbaum was medium height, in his forties and completely bald apart from bushy, blonde eyebrows and a very pale complexion. He slid over to the other side of the seat and looked comfortable sitting cross-legged. For all the world a commercial traveller or junior business executive, he was anything but.
He graduated from Yale in physics and mathematics with endorsed statistical studies. Recruited by Langley, he spent another three years learning eight languages including Russian, as well as all the usual basic training in espionage and self-defence. To all intents and purposes, he was a CIA agent but in truth, a very important pen pusher. When it came to analysing military or social statistics and making informed predictions, his superiors considered him the best. Langley sent him to Moscow for a number of years, studying anything that moved whether it be military or commercial.
