Crate of Lies, page 19
"It's three hours to Brest, the Polish and Belarus checkpoint and another four hours after that before Warsaw. I suggest you get some more sleep."
They settled but Raithe remained awake, his thoughts dominated by Abdul. If he let the man follow, they were in constant danger, especially when they were no further use to Liebermann. The journey took a little longer to Brest due to an unscheduled stop at Kobryn, a small town several kilometres from the border, because of a power failure. They sat on the untidy outskirts of the town looking at a collection of run down houses and workshops fronting the road that ran by the side of the tracks. A group of children, some without shoes, threw stones over the broken wire fencing at the train and shouted obscenities. When the train finally started again, the rain returned with a vengeance and stayed with them until they reached Warsaw. Nina slept until they arrived in the city.
"Okay. Let's go. Now stay with me and do the talking if we're stopped."
She nodded and followed him onto the platform but instead of taking the subway to the down line and a return trip to Moscow, she walked behind him through the security barrier and into the main booking hall.
Outside, Raithe walked past four taxis looking for the embassy car. The main road was fifty metres away. An old, battered Volvo estate turned into the forecourt, smoke pouring from the exhaust. It stopped by his side, the front passenger window wound down. From inside, he could hear local music and smell strong tobacco. A muscular, hairy hand beckoned him in. Raithe opened the back door and Nina climbed in with her case. After slamming the door shut, he climbed into the front.
"What the hell are yer doin? Get rid of the girl. She's goin' home." The gravelly voice belonged to a scruffy, long-haired man in his late twenties, dressed in denim top over a dirty white T shirt. His jeans bore holes in both knees and the trainers on his feet looked scuffed and marked with blue paint. A square unshaven jaw beneath a bright red Cardinals baseball hat and a gold earring were all Raithe could see of the face. The eyes hid beneath a pair of dark glasses.
"She's with me."
"The hell she is. Get rid now, mister."
"You want your rockets back?"
"Out."
"Suit yourself," said Raithe, calmly. He opened the door and got out.
"Not you - her."
"All or nothing, soldier. Make up your mind."
"Fuck you, mister, my orders were to pick you up and take you to a safe house." The man's neck had turned red.
"Your orders have just been changed. Now we can stand here in the open and discuss this all day if you wish or I can take off now. Alternatively, you can take both of us and let your superior give me a good bollocking when we get there. What do you think?"
"Get in the car, please."
Raithe got in and looked ahead through the windscreen in time to see Abdul climbing into a taxi in front of them.
"You see that taxi?" said Raithe. "It's going to follow us. Inside is a man who works for the bastard responsible for the death of a colleague of yours in Moscow. He's the enemy, not me. Wherever you're taking us, I suggest you get on your accelerator and get him off our tail."
Above them, the sun was already high in the sky, promising a hot day. Raithe gripped the dashboard as the Volvo lurched forward into the traffic. Diesel fumes wafted into the car. Tired and suffering a headache, the fumes and the stale stench of tobacco made him nauseous.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Harry sat sipping a brandy and smoking a Havana in the ambassador's conference room. It was seven-fifteen in the morning. He had been up all night and landed at Heathrow an hour earlier.
On reaching Spaso House the night before, an urgent message from Jerusalem ordered him to London to meet the US Secretary of State and the Israeli and American ambassadors. Secretary Hubert Schwartz arrived officially for talks with the Prime Minister on the construction of a satellite communications centre in Scotland. Unofficially, the President asked the Secretary to speak to Jerusalem and arrange for their London Desk to bring him up to date on the arms situation at a meeting in Grosvenor Square. Garret left a message from Harry at the American Embassy in Warsaw for Raithe to make contact as soon as possible.
The door to Garret's office opened and the Secretary of State walked in first, followed by Garret. "Harry, you look damned awful." Schwartz advanced on Harry with outstretched hand. "No, don't get up. I know how you feel." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and sat down.
"Mr. Secretary, my apologies for the way I look but several hours ago I was climbing around in the back of a refrigerated railway wagon in Moscow."
Garret stifled a laugh. "Harry, I don't think I've ever seen you looking so down and out. Whatever happened to the smart suit and tie?"
"That's all right, Harry," said Schwartz, "from what I've just been told by Michael, it looks as though you've saved the day."
"He most certainly has. How are you, Harry?" Bernard Stein, the Israeli ambassador had walked into the room, followed by a member of staff carrying a large tray of coffee mugs.
"Bernard, I'm fine, thank you."
They spent a few moments drinking the coffee and chatting before Secretary Schwartz brought them to order. "Okay, first things first. We are carefully monitoring the train's progress, thanks to Harry and his team. I think we are all aware of the proposed plan that Harry has submitted and I think it's a good one." He looked at Harry. "I'm not too sure I like the idea of waiting for the weapons to be delivered before we act."
Harry looked concerned. "If we stop the delivery, all we do is demoralise them a little. If we wait until we know where they are, they'll be defeated. A quick strike by a force of helicopter gunships will finish them off and in the meantime our small force will be on its way with the rockets to a secret rendezvous with an American helicopter."
Stein held his hands out and cut in. "I know our friends in Jerusalem will not be pleased to hear this, Mr. Secretary, but I understand your position."
Schwartz shook his head. "Gentlemen, the President is not prepared to take a chance on waiting until we know where the terrorists are with delivery close at hand. If they manage to get the rockets God knows what will happen. No, if we get a chance to stop delivery then that is what we do. Then we go deal with the bad guys."
Harry looked at Garret and shrugged without saying a word.
"What about your man, Harry? Is he out yet?" Schwartz removed his spectacles and held them up to the light before cleaning them with a tissue.
Garret winked at Harry.
"That was a bad situation in Moscow. Have you debriefed him yet?" continued Schwartz. "I take it he got too close to the smugglers. For some unknown reason the Russians seem to have stuck their snouts in our trough as well?"
"The Russians were following Raithe as a matter of curiosity. Old habits die hard. He's an American with lots of money and on his own. They got between him and the smugglers, who were about to kill him. The organisation cottoned on to him in Berlin without him knowing. I won't go into details. The Marine's death was a tragedy. The poor man disturbed Liebermann after the Russians died and before there was time to kill Raithe. Raithe woke up during the fracas and raised the alarm. Liebermann fled the scene."
"I see," said Schwartz. "So where is Raithe now? You do realise we agreed with the Russians that he would be questioned in Washington?"
"Yes, I do. At this moment he should be in Warsaw. I'll ring him as soon as we are done here. If you are planning to seize the arms in Vienna, I want him there with Lightfoot, your man he's been working with."
"Fine, then we can keep an eye on him as well as the rockets."
Harry felt like making a sarcastic remark but thought better of it. Shouting at an American ambassador was one thing but the U.S. Secretary of State was quite another.
"Now I'd like to run through the plan of action we intend once the shipment reaches Vienna."
…At noon, the meeting finished and Stein left, leaving Harry with the two Americans.
"I have to leave for Number 10 in a few minutes," said Schwartz. "I'm having lunch with the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary. Before I go, fill me in on the search for the Amber Room, Harry."
Harry felt tired, too tired to go into a lot of detail. Besides, he disliked Schwartz. The man was pushy and to full of himself, a man who thirsted for attention and false respect. Harry gave him the briefest of reports, concluding by saying that the room traced as far as Moscow.
After seeing the Secretary out, Garret returned to the office. "Harry, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were keeping most of your cards under the table."
Harry raised an eyebrow and slapped the arm of his chair. "I won't hide my feelings, Michael. I don't like the man but that's not the only reason I didn't tell him much." He was annoyed. "At this moment we still have to establish what really happened to the Amber Room and the President will be the first to know, not the damn Secretary of State."
Garret sidestepped Harry's feelings. "Oh, that reminds me, have you called your secretary this morning? She was trying to get hold of you yesterday. Greenbaum called here, knowing you were on the way. Use this phone if you wish. I'll be outside."
"No need, Michael. There's a busy digital recorder downstairs as we speak and don't you dare tell me there isn't. You might as well stay. It's news for us both I hope."
"What about?"
"Idaho."
"Just a minute." Garret picked up the phone, pressed a button and spoke. "Private call." He handed the receiver to Harry.
Harry dialled his office and Mary answered.
"Harry, are you okay? You didn't take your spare glasses, did you? It's a pity you never forget those cigars."
Harry stood silently mimicking her. "Mary, will you please tell me why you wanted to speak to me last night. I'm back in London in the Square. I'm putting you on conference so don't say anything you'd regret later." He put the receiver down and pressed a button. "Go ahead, Mary."
"Prewit. I traced his business in Idaho. Freeworld Marketing is a warehousing come freight forwarding company with depots in Spokane, Idaho, Edmonton and Whitehorse in Canada and guess where else?"
"Fairbanks, Alaska."
"Got it in one, Harry."
"What else?"
Mary had found a web site listed for the company. Freeworld Marketing consisted of two subsidiary companies that sold products over the internet. One sold military souvenirs, uniforms, replica guns and knives. It also sold books and magazines, all Second World War, mainly German. The advert listed the books as military or political, some propaganda orientated, printed just before the war.
"The point is, Prewit is a Neo Nazi," she concluded.
Harry and Garret exchanged glances. "Selling that stuff doesn't make him a Neo Nazi."
"No, but organising some weekend military training exercises for those who want to help in the struggle for white supremacy does. This guy sounds like a psycho, Harry. That's the other product being sold and I'm telling you that site has an awful lot of visitors, over a quarter of a million."
"Thanks, Mary. Is there any more?"
There was. On the top right hand side of her screen, at the end of the advertising banner, she had noted the outline of a knight holding a sword exactly the same as the one on the tag Raithe found. She looked into the company. They were very busy and enjoyed a turnover in excess of three million the previous year.
"Of course he does. And some of the trucks are used from time to time to shift crates to Fairbanks."
"Right. This means he also shifts stuff from Fairbanks."
"Thanks, Mary. Did you check out Prewit's date of birth and where he was born?"
Prewit had been born in September '52 and brought up in Spokane where he still lived but there was no family. He married a few years previously but got divorced in 1983. His mother never remarried but lived remarkably well for an army widow on a sergeant's pension. He definitely was the son of Joseph Prewit, killed in an accident in Berlin on active duty. His wife bought a big house in the fashionable part of town and moved there shortly after her husband's death, turning it into a guest house. There was no obvious history of how Prewit acquired the finance to start his company in 1990. His official residence was the same home he grew up in.
"Mary, thanks. You've been a big help."
"Harry?"
"Yes, Mary."
"Get some sleep but don't forget to speak to Raithe first."
"I won't and I will. Say goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mr. Ambassador, make sure he gets a lift home. Thanks."
"I will, Mary. Goodbye." Garret pushed the button and laughed before saying, "Tell me what's going through your mind, Harry. Do we call the FBI now or wait? I think we should call in the troops."
"No, Michael. If what we suspect is true then it will take cunning to rescue the room rather than force. The FBI is involved with investigating and catching Wainright and his organisation. So far we have been able to keep our involvement with the Amber Room secret. We must wait until we know where the room is before calling in the troops. Look at all the information we've got now. What do you make of it? My guess is that Prewit's upbringing and distorted views about race and religion were influenced by one of the guests."
Garret frowned. "Rienecke."
Harry agreed. However the General got to the U.S. it looked as though he ended up at the home of one of his most fanatical followers. That had to be how Prewit Junior learned about the system. He may well have grown up with the man.
"The General must have communicated with Joe Prewit from inside Spandau. It would have taken all the time he was incarcerated to organise the excavation and transportation of the room back to America."
"Yes," said Harry. "It looks as though Prewit Snr. and the Russian were in charge of digging up the crates and silencing the men in the pit and then someone shot them after the room was safely on the train. That means Rienecke used someone to do some housecleaning just as Liebermann is doing today."
"Whoever it was did a damn good job of leaving no witnesses," said Garret. "A few years later, Prewit Jnr. must have sold the route to Wainright, hence the money for his business. Their secret remained just that ever since. Where is the room now?"
Harry stifled a yawn. If they guessed right, somewhere in America, probably the Idaho headquarters of Prewit's gang of Nazi's.
"I don't think you should do anything yet though," said Harry. "I suggest I watch Prewit's home and his main office in Spokane until we can confirm the existence and location of the room and are ready to round him and his men up at the same time as Wainright and his board."
"Makes sense. I'll speak to the President later. In the meantime I suggest you get some sleep. What are you going to do about Raithe and Lightfoot?"
"Keep them in place," yawned Harry. "Lightfoot is waiting in Vienna and Raithe can stay in Warsaw. I want him somewhere central so that he can get to Berlin, Prague or Vienna on the quick. Each city is a short flight away from Warsaw. I don't trust Wainright. He's too clever and nothing can be left to chance." He stubbed his cigar out in the full ashtray. "I hope you have warned the CIA to stay away from my boy. He's the only one out there who knows about the Amber Room."
"They have been instructed, Harry. I also made sure Langley received a warning that if someone is shot following him it will be their own damned fault. It's not just Raithe that would shoot them. What are you going to do about Liebermann, by the way?"
"Let him follow Raithe, that's if he hasn't come to the same conclusions as us yet."
"And if he has?"
Harry thought of Raithe with the girl and hoped they were safe. Liebermann would not hesitate to order Raithe killed. He could not afford to play cat and mouse any more. He was after both of them as well as the room whilst still maintaining his lucrative post with Wainright. He would be under a lot of pressure right at that moment. If he was running to form, he would be talking to his client in the Kremlin, upping the price, and talking to Wainright, assuring him of success. The biggest problem was keeping Raithe alive.
Garret rose. "Well, be careful, Harry. I know you won't sit here and delegate. The state you're in proves that." They shook hands. "I'll have a car at the front for you. Keep in touch."
***
Liebermann dialled and waited several seconds. A rough American voice answered.
"Yeah. Worldwide, what can I do for you, buddy?"
"Hello Prewit, I'll be with you in two days."
"What for?" The voice became less brash, less self-assured and quieter.
"My dear Prewit, I have a little business proposition to put your way. Tell me, what do you say to a million dollars in return for certain information?"
"Well, yeah, sure." Prewit laughed. "What would ya' like to know?"
"Meet you at your place in two days." As Liebermann ended the call his lips formed a tight little smirk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"I want Ravelle and the girl dead. Where are they?"
"In a small house on the outskirts of the city. I thought you were going to deal with Ravelle?"
"Change of plans, Abdul." Liebermann explained Wainright's intentions. "I want you to check on the wagon and make sure the job is carried out properly. You know what to do after that. When you're done, get to Prague for the final leg."
"What about the room? I thought Ravelle was leading you there?"
"The situation is changing. I have called in Anton and Gruber to help out. Their plane touches down in an hour," said Liebermann. "Leave Cohen to me."
"All right. Where will you be?"
"I'll be on this number until you call to confirm the truck is on the motorway heading for the airport. I'll see you later in Spokane."
"Prewit's place?"
"No, better not. There's a motel called Domino Five Star on the road from the airport into town. Meet me there."
***
