Crate of Lies, page 15
Trains were a particular favourite subject of his. The Russians moved practically all troops and hardware by train at one time or another, except Afghanistan. That had involved massive airlifts. Cohen was therefore wary of Jeffrey sent on an 'out of character' mission. They shook hands.
"Harry, I haven't heard from your man yet. He was supposed to see me this morning."
"No wonder they put you behind a desk, Jeffery. I'm surprised you don't run for President. I've never known one of them that could lie and get away with it."
Greenbaum looked thoughtfully out of the window as the limousine left the car park. "Harry, we've lost a Marine and the Kremlin have lost two Alpha Force plain clothes. We know it's not your man but he is one of ours, strictly speaking. We also know that he was working with Lightfoot, who's in Vienna right now, trying to locate the stolen rocket launchers."
"Is there anything you don't know? Is there any point in my answering any of your questions?"
"Sorry, Harry, but I thought I'd save time and cut the usual crap out. Officially I have to tell you that we will arrest Ravelle on sight and take him in for questioning. The Russians have other ideas. They'll shoot him on sight. Despite our ambassador's strong words to the Kremlin that Ravelle will be dealt with by the US, the Kremlin are having none of it and want him to be tried here in Moscow. They've already found him guilty. I believe the ambassador is going to another meeting with them tonight."
Greenbaum looked at his watch. "They'll be turning the city upside down by now. Quite frankly, our man's only chance of survival is getting out of Russia. Of course, officially you are to get him to come to the embassy. Unofficially, we hope you don't."
"Like that, is it? You don't want him at the embassy because it will cause a diplomatic incident. You don't want him caught because he's an American and the threat of a public trial would give the Kremlin a bargaining chip in the Middle East or Korea or wherever else they damn well like? You'd rather he escape so he is caught by you and dealt with publicly in America. It would certainly save America's face, wouldn't it?"
"You've got it about right, Harry. Greenbaum's hands fidgeted in his lap. "I'm taking you to an apartment near the river. We lease it for visiting dignitaries. I'm afraid the embassy sees you as little more than someone Ravelle will deal with. The ambassador wants you to call on him first thing this morning. At this moment he's advised it might be better if you were out of the way for tonight. In the meantime, you and I need to talk."
"What about?"
"Trains, Harry. Ravelle was going to talk to me about trains. When he failed to show and then the news broke I guessed it was all connected. I got in touch with Lightfoot through Langley. He told me about the STS flights from Vienna and guessed the launchers might arrive there by train."
Harry decided to buy time. If Greenbaum found out about the information Max sent him and its importance, together with the wartime connection, a report would be on the director's desk at Langley within hours. It was too soon to mount an operation. Besides, there was a suspicion of something darker underlying the smugglers operation. It was nothing more than a feeling, an uneasy one at that.
"That's all it is at the moment, Jeffery, a guess. I suggested Raithe see you to find out how many different ways there might be to get the freight into Vienna by rail and from where. It was just a hunch but perhaps you might take a look at that angle." He nudged Greenbaum's arm. "I'm sorry I was a little sharp, Jeffery, but quite honestly, I'm very worried about our man. I do have several places to look for him tomorrow night. He won't show himself until then."
As the limousine drove silently on, Harry was pleased that at least the CIA did not have too many troops on the ground. That was, not until the following evening when they would listen with interest to Greenbaum's taped conversation with him. Dealing with the Russians was an entirely different issue. Raithe's escape was easy - after they found the train carrying the launchers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"Good morning, General. I trust you slept well last night?"
"Are you aware that if you don't deliver the room you will be shot for what you have done?" Zalesky's voice showed no emotion, his words spoken slowly and clearly. "It was not necessary to kill those men."
Liebermann paused. "But it was. I asked you to call them off but you ignored me. As I recall, we have an agreement that I use my men to run the operation my way without any interference from you. It may have escaped your notice but Ravelle has nowhere to hide now and cannot rely on any help from the Americans, or the Israeli's who know nothing about his little adventure with my dearest friend Harry Cohen. Therefore, they will know that time is running out and will be even more eager to find the room. I have just given them a little prod."
"You have given the Kremlin more than a little prod, Hienrich. They too, do not know about the room yet. All they can see are two dead agents, one dead American Marine and one escaped Israeli agent who's an American. Détente between the U.S. and Russia has never been better and now this. The whole mess was unnecessary, Hienrich, and the Kremlin are angry, very angry."
Liebermann looked across the foyer of the packed Rossiya Hotel. "I thought you said that President Mikulic contacted you and that our President agreed my fee? You wouldn't be fooling me, would you, General? Perhaps, considering what has just happened, you might tell me exactly what is going on? Perhaps there's a reason for your surprising calmness this morning."
"Hienrich, there is nothing going on. You are aware that half of your fee is in your account already. When I said our President agreed I meant that funds were available without a higher authority as long as they could be justified. My department has unlimited resources, especially for Mikulic information and what it will lead us to."
Liebermann chuckled. "So your glorious President doesn't know about the room. You are going to present it to him in return for more medals and a luxury dacha on the banks of the Moskva. I take it you will want me to take care of Mikulic?"
"Yes. Listen, Hienrich, when the time is right you will profit from this. The money agreed is nothing to what I can do for you. Make sure you get the room and you can retire for the rest of your life."
"You sound desperate, General. Keep your men out of my way."
"All right, but remember the place is crawling with Alpha right now. You and your men must be careful. I cannot help you if you get into trouble."
"Don't worry about me, General. Just remember my money. Oh yes, one thing - Harry Cohen will be here soon, if not already. He's probably travelling as a diplomatic guest of the Americans. I would hate it if you picked him up for questioning or something happened to him. He is going to take me to Ravelle and the room."
"You mean you don't know where Ravelle is? You lost him?"
"My dear General, I have plenty of patience and professionalism. Ravelle is going nowhere without meeting Harry first. My men will pick up Harry as soon as he arrives in the city. They could hardly miss him. Now if there's nothing else, I'll let you get on with your lunch."
"Phone me as soon as you have some news, Hienrich."
"Really? - Even if it's two in the morning, General?" There was a click and the line went dead.
Liebermann smiled as Abdul, dressed in his usual light tan suit and a bright tie appeared through the main doors. He pocketed the cell phone and greeted the Arab with a hug.
"All goes well, Abdul. Jules called me from the airport early this morning. Cohen will soon be here. I take it you know what happened last night?"
"Yes. I spoke briefly to Jules."
"Good. As soon as we hear from Jules we will be waiting. In the meantime, I have to speak to Wainright."
They rode the lift to the eighteenth floor after Liebermann paid the hotel telephonist a hundred dollars not to listen in or record the call from America he was expecting.
With over two thousand rooms on twenty-two floors, the hotel was plain and dreary. The place was a huge cold mausoleum consisting of rows and rows of clean but drab rooms. On the plus side, it was adjacent to Red Square and the food, although not à la carte was wholesome. It was also the kind of place in which Liebermann liked to hide.
Inside his room, Liebermann settled down in a chair by the window. Abdul knew the man's idiosyncratic behaviour well. He sat for hours watching people, traffic and the weather. Sometimes he studied a street map on his lap or hotel brochures. Regardless of the times he visited a particular location, his habit was always the same. He studied street maps, not just for familiarisation of a road layout but also to remember one way systems, where trams ran. Maps showed public telephone locations as well as police stations, hotels and parks. This mundane information, he told them, could save vital seconds when following a target or indeed, when escaping a shadow.
Now, as Liebermann sat by the window, Abdul relaxed on the sofa and picked up a magazine. It was a typical glossy affair, full of pictures and information about city attractions. A picture of the Radisson filled the centre pages.
"Isn't this the hotel Ravelle stayed at? With a whore, Jules told me."
Liebermann looked at the picture and bit his lower lip. "Of course…the girl." He grinned slyly.
"What about her?" Abdul discarded the magazine on the sofa beside him.
"Get over to the Radisson and find out from the bar staff who the blonde whore is. They'll know her but it will cost you fifty dollars. Give them a ring tonight to find out if she's there."
"What if she doesn't turn up?"
"Then we'll have a good idea where Raithe is."
"What about her address?"
"The bar manager or head barman will know. She's not allowed to work the hotel without paying."
Liebermann's cell phone rang as Abdul got up to leave.
"I'll see you later, Abdul." Liebermann waved the man away and pulled the phone from his pocket.
"Hello."
There was a moments silence and then Wainright's voice. "Heinrich, have you dealt with Raithe and Cohen yet?"
"Mr. Wainright, please don't worry, everything is in hand."
Wainright sounded concerned. The company was facing a serious situation and one tiny mistake might finish them. Things needed taking care of at his end although it looked like Liebermann's men did well in Vladivostok. So far they managed to keep ahead of Cohen and the Americans but he was unsure for how much longer. It was imperative that he eliminate the two men as soon as possible.
A change of plan was in place, just in case the Americans discovered the train before the launchers got to Vienna. Wainright's client was getting very agitated and extra assurances were given to keep him happy. The launchers were going to arrive in Moscow in a few hours. When the train left, the freight label changed to Minsk and at Minsk for Warsaw and from there, Prague. An STS truck was picking up the crates and taking them across the Czech border and on to Vienna airport.
"You're cutting out the Vienna rail terminal?"
"Yes," replied Wainright. "Clean up there now. There is one other thing. You will recall I told you that in an emergency, we have a procedure for taking care of satellite and intelligence surveillance?"
"Yes. Where?"
"The train will stop in Warsaw at around three in the morning, two days from now, and our man will switch labels as usual. Half the wagons including ours are to move into a busy siding. Within a short time, the transformation will be complete and the wagon pulled out and taken on to Prague and the freight depot the following day. There, the STS truck will pick up the crates and drive south on the motorway to Vienna airport. While that's happening, the other wagon will sit in a siding. If anyone is tracking what they think is a wagon full of arms they will have a long wait. This has taken a lot of arranging and I don't want it going wrong. I want you to personally supervise this. In fact, I'd like you to be on the truck, Hienrich. You can then make sure all goes smoothly at the airport and take care of the driver at the same time."
"That might be a little difficult, Mr. Wainright. Cohen is here now but I need a little time to -"
"Deal with them now, Hienrich. I want you in Prague in three days. That's how long you've got. Don't let me down. Ring me when you get there."
Liebermann ended the call. This was an unexpected turn of events and something that was endangering his agenda. The CIA had their own men as well as Cohen looking for the launchers but only Ravelle and Cohen were looking for the Amber Room. True, he could kill them both within the time but then he wouldn't have the room, not that Zalesky was going to have it anyway. Others would pay more and Zalesky would suffer for his own stupidity and for ignoring him when he needed help.
***
The american Ambassadors official residence since 1933, Spaso House, built in the Empire style in 1913, lay within one mile to the west of the Kremlin. Harry sat looking up into the soaring domed ceiling that crowned the long main hall.
The tall elegantly carved double doors opened and Ambassador Grant, his face like thunder, strode in accompanied by three other staff. Without offering a hand he motioned Harry back into his seat. He looked tired after a long night, his tie loosened at the neck and the light blue suit crumpled. A handful of papers rustled as he waved them angrily at Harry.
"Cohen, just what the hell do you think you're playing at? I've been on the phone to Jerusalem for the last hour. They say - and I quote – 'Mr. Cohen, assisted by a junior member of his team from London is assisting the Pentagon in a matter of State security and should be given every assistance' - unquote."
The ambassador and the other men followed suit. "I have an American who works for your government loose in Moscow, leaving behind him a trail of bodies. Perhaps you might want to explain to me what he intends to do next?"
Cohen breathed a sigh of relief. Garret obviously called the President and he or Garret spoke to Jerusalem. They would not be too worried, knowing that he was already investigating the terrorists and STS. His weekly report would clear the air. He decided that attack was better than docility.
He looked at the man, both hands on knees. Calmly, he said, "Mr. Ambassador, may I first say how sorry I am for the loss of the Marine and indeed the two Russians. Their deaths are the work of Hienrich Liebermann, a man well known to the State Department. Second, I can tell you that Ravelle was not responsible. He is, as we speak, in mortal danger and out there alone. He's helping to do something the State Department, the CIA and the Diplomatic Corps have failed to do for the last six months to my knowledge - and I include Jerusalem too, although it wasn't Jerusalem that lost a couple of dozen neutron rocket launchers, was it?"
Ambassador Archibald Grant's face went beetroot red.
Cohen continued, standing. "My country is at peace with the Arabs for the very first time. We have paid a heavy price for that peace, not America. Now, through your bad military administration, you could lose that. You're going to be responsible for arming the PFF and causing total chaos and unrest in the Middle East unless a few men like Ravelle can find the launchers before they can be used to destroy the peace."
Cohen's voice rose as he paced the floor. "To make matters worse, I believe that you would like Ravelle to escape from Russia without giving him assistance and then have him arrested and put on trial in America for what…murder? How about treason? You haven't had a traitor for a while, have you?"
"Mr. Cohen…"
"Oh, we've remembered we're in the diplomatic corps now. I'm not 'Cohen' any more. I'm 'Mr. Cohen.' If you think you can demand my attendance to tell me to hand Ravelle over or get him out of the country so you can arrest him, you can think again." He turned away from the ambassador, seething.
"The Russians always react before they think and you have followed their lead. Do you really think Ravelle would kill a Marine, let alone two Alpha agents as well, and in his room? For God's sake, man, Liebermann has succeeded in splitting the Russians, the Americans and the Israeli's from each other. He is working for the organisation responsible for supplying arms across the world to terrorists and dictators."
He slapped his hands together. "And here we are doing nothing while the neutron rockets remain at large." He slumped back down into the chair.
Ambassador Grant sat silent for a moment.
"Mr. Cohen," repeated Grant, "I understand your concern and agree that Ravelle did not kill those men. However, the fact remains that some sort of arrangement has to be agreed upon with the Russians and that something is what I've been sorting out all night long."
"Without consulting Jerusalem?"
"He's an American."
"I don't care what he is. He works for us and you know we should be included in any deliberations."
"Well, Jerusalem has agreed to it and has asked me to give you the details. You may use my study to call them once we have spoken."
Cohen resented the lack of consultation but conceded that in the circumstances, clearer heads hopefully came up with the best solution. "Okay, Mr. Ambassador."
One point worried Harry. The Russians agreed to leave Raithe to the Americans but warned that if seen he faced arrest and an escort to the U.S. embassy. An escape plan was essential.
The ambassador spent another minute reading the rest of the agreement concerning who interviewed and debriefed Ravelle after the current operation ended.
Harry frowned. "Mr. Ambassador, my apologies for being bad tempered. Like you, it's been a long night." They shook hands and walked out of the hall together.
Harry looked at his watch as he climbed into the limousine and asked the driver to drop him off at the end of Vozdvizenka Boulevard. The boulevard ran a stone's throw away from Red Square. With fifteen minutes before his meeting, he was careful not to arrive too early.
The sun was high in the sky and a gentle breeze blew through the trees, just enough to bring relief to the many people walking in the heat. A distant screaming siren got louder, joined by another. The cars shot past the limousine, lights flashing. Harry closed his eyes and hoped Raithe would be on time.
