Crate of Lies, page 25
"What depot? Where?"
Lightfoot walked into the office with a grim expression on his face. Raithe waved him over.
"Where?" Raithe repeated.
"STS lease a large hangar on the far side of the field. They use it to store dry medical and food supplies."
He turned to Lightfoot. "There's a flight leaving in minutes."
Raithe clenched his fists and turned to the controller. "Why didn't you let your customs people know to check the other depot?"
The controller shrugged and picked up his phone. "No one asked. What am I supposed to do? Read their minds? - Yes, oh, hello control." He spoke into the phone. "Flight 364, has it- yes - I see, yes, thank you." He looked at Raithe. "It's been given clearance."
"Where's it headed…quick," snapped Raithe.
The controller replaced the receiver. "Iraq."
"My problem now, Raithe," said Lightfoot. "I'll get in touch with Langley. They'll have a welcoming reception for the plane when it touches down in Baghdad. We still have military advisors in place as well as the Iraq police force."
Outside, a roar of engines announced the 747's departure.
***
"This is one big mess. Now do you see why it's better to have two cooks in the kitchen instead of five?"
"You have to admit, Harry, Wainright fooled us all with a brilliant plan. It was simple but effective. Mind you, if only we'd known that STS-"
"Life is full of ifs, Raithe. It's no good dwelling on what should or could have been. Think positive, dear boy. You did your job well and have a good result." Cohen chuckled. "That makes a change, doesn't it? Still, the Americans have the situation covered."
"Lightfoot and his guys are helping Customs go through the STS depot," replied Raithe. "They've found enough paperwork together with the information you've given them, to prove STS isn't only a charitable concern. Lightfoot reckons NATO will send a report to the UN and request the disbandment of STS."
"I'm sure he's right," said Harry. "There's a big reception committee waiting for the plane at Bagdad too so at least the Americans will get their rockets back. How soon can you get to London?"
"There's a flight out of here at nine. Have I got a date in Washington still?" asked Raithe.
"Don't worry about Washington. I've some bad news. They've lost Wainright. He could be anywhere by now. At least the pipeline is dead."
"For the time being, Harry. That's until he regroups and starts up again. What about Liebermann?"
"He's vanished too," answered Harry. "Although I suspect he's in America and Abdul is on his way to the States to meet him right now. We know Liebermann was in Moscow and had to return to Europe to fly to the US."
"Berlin?"
"I'd say so, yes. So get yourself back here, dear boy. Let Mary know what flight you're on and she can arrange for us to fly to Seattle, hopefully tomorrow."
"You think Prewit will know where the room is?"
"I think he might. Either way, I want to get to him before Liebermann and Abdul. He's no good to us dead."
"Meeting them should be an interesting experience," mused Raithe.
"Nothing personal, dear boy."
"Of course not, Harry…nothing personal."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
"I'm meeting Raithe in a couple of hours. We're flying out to Seattle." Harry blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
"You haven't heard from Zalesky yet, I take it?" Garret looked worried as he sat.
"No." Knowing I was going to the US today, I tried contacting him before I came here but he was unavailable. I left a message for him to call my mobile as a matter of urgency."
"Well I hope he calls soon, Harry. To be quite honest with you, I could do with some good news for the President. It's bad enough having one nightmare, let alone two."
Harry stood and shook hands. "I'll keep in-"
His mobile rang, cutting him off. Garret waved crossed fingers in the air and looked hopefully at the mobile as Cohen opened it.
"Hello?"
"Harry, my good friend." The strong deep voice of Zalesky answered.
Harry sat down. "General, you have an answer for me? Now tell me what you've decided. I take it you have studied the Koblinkov file?"
"Yes, I think your plan would be quite acceptable but I would want a signed assurance from the White House that the Amber Room would be returned the day after he goes public about his involvement in replacing UN troops on the Golan Heights."
"A signed assurance from the President would cost you. If I were able to comply with that, General, you would have to help me too."
"I don't know where Liebermann is. I wish I did," growled Zalesky.
"You did contract him then?"
"Yes. And before you ask, I also have a copy of the tape."
Harry's pulse quickened. "I guessed as much. You'll need to destroy it. You don't want your President finding out about it, do you?"
"You're worried about the tape, Harry. To show you a little goodwill I'll tell you that all there is on my copy are a couple of references to the Amber Room and the situation with the PFF. It is obvious that a lot of conversation is missing. There, does that make you feel better?" He chuckled. "I can only guess what the rest of the conversation was about."
Harry shook his head at Garret and waited for the General to stop laughing. "I'll see what can be done but remember, Mikulic will start getting impatient very soon unless you give him an invite to Moscow. We will be expecting to hear news of an arrest in Moscow soon too."
"Then it's in your best interests to arrange my assurance as soon as possible, Harry."
"Don't play games, General, if NATO snatch Mikulic before we can sort this out, you won't get any glory. We'll also deal direct with President Zhukov and you will join Koblinkov, disgraced and without a pension."
"What are you talking about?"
"I have a file on you, General, and it makes very interesting reading."
"If this is a-"
"I've already got dates on you and several other colleagues of yours. Let me tell you that February the eighteenth of this year figures in the report you have in front of you. It's when Koblinkov met with two Mafia bosses in a Moscow hotel. It would be easy to say you were there too."
"This is blackmail."
"No, General, this is my assurance. I'll have an answer within the hour and I'm sure a deadline as well. If all goes well, we'll try and give you seven days to have Koblinkov arrested. Once we get news of that, we'll have an assurance for you and then you can see to it that Mikulic is on a plane for Moscow. Agreed?"
"Yes."
"What's the matter, General, you don't sound so happy."
"You play a dirty game, Harry. You have no honour."
"Then you keep remembering that, General. Remind Hienrich too when you hear from him. Call me on this number in an hour." He put the phone back into his pocket.
Garret was stroking his forehead. "Harry, we can't possibly give him what he wants. The President won't agree to that and I-"
"I know that, Michael," said Harry. He was puffing furiously, clouds of smoke swirling about his head. "I know the President has the arms issue on his mind at the moment but you have to talk to him. Let him know what's going on and ask for his approval to assure the General that the Amber Room's return will be as agreed by both parties. Tell him we have told Zalesky this is reliant on Koblinkov resigning from office and the White House hearing about his arrest. I'm sure he'll like that."
"So how does the General get an assurance signed by the President?"
"He doesn't. He'll have already dealt with Koblinkov as part of the deal by the time we are supposed to send it. He knows what will happen if he messes up over Mikulic."
"He's gonna' be mad."
"He said it. I play dirty, especially if I'm fighting for my country."
"Well, I guess as long as the President agrees in principle, the old boy's going to have to trust us. I'll get on to Washington now and call you shortly."
"And I'll be on my way to the airport. Good luck."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
"I was so sure. They fell together. He was lying on the ground as I drove away. I couldn't hang around. He had backup." Abdul sat looking straight ahead as the car bumped over a pothole in the tarmac.
Liebermann's face showed no emotion at all. It had been a long journey. He was tired after leaving the airport at Spokane after meeting Abdul from the connect flight from Seattle. There would be no payment from Wainright but a fortune for the Amber Room still waited for whoever found it. He had to reach Prewit before Cohen. "You should have made sure of him," he snapped. "It doesn't matter now. I'll have to deal with him as well as that fat pig Cohen."
The car came to a halt and Abdul switched the ignition off. In the darkness they could see Prewit's house, an old two-storey, white, wooden farm house surrounded by cedars. It stood out brilliantly in the moonlight. A long gravel drive, bordered by more cedars, ran from the road through an acre of grass to reach it. There were no lights on outside the house but a small pick-up standing out front suggested Prewit might be at home.
"We'll walk from here." Liebermann opened his door. "You follow me in five minutes and wait outside until I open the front door. If Prewit makes a run for it, I want you to stop him. Don't kill him." With that, he clicked the door shut and walked up one side of the drive, hiding in the shadows as he approached the house.
At the back of the house he stepped up onto a long porch that ran the length of the building. The screen door, buffeted by a light draught, squeaked now and again. Liebermann stepped to one side of the screen and gently pulled it open with one finger. The back door was open and the smell of fried chicken wafted through the air. A pile of dirty crockery stood in the sink and a stronger smell of food scraps came from an overflowing pedal bin by the side of a broom cupboard.
There was a door directly in front of him, partially open. The other side was a large square reception area. A staircase to one side led up to a landing from which long corridors led off either side. Below, the layout was the same except for large double doors on both sides of the square. These opened into a sitting room on one side and a dining room on the other, neither well furnished. What furniture there was had long since seen a duster or any polish. From the centre of the reception area's yellowed ceiling hung a bare bulb.
Liebermann opened the front door and beckoned to Abdul who was standing behind the pick-up. For ten minutes they searched the house.
"He's flown the nest," Liebermann finally announced, sitting on Prewit's bed. "He must have left today, judging by the smell of the kitchen."
Abdul picked up a framed photo of Prewit standing in front of a truck. "What about his business?"
"No. Someone warned him. He must have told Wainright I was coming."
"Why would Wainright warn him off? Prewit wasn't part of the clean-up…well, not officially."
"Why indeed? That reminds me." He took a mobile from his pocket. "Let us see if we can wake him."
The phone rang for several seconds before someone answered. "Good morning, Mr. Wainright."
"Hienrich? Is that you?"
"Yes, Mr. Wainright. I did try to reach you earlier but you were unavailable. My bank doesn't appear to have received any payment yesterday."
"And they're not going to either, you idiot. Did you think our client would pay for nothing? His delivery, the delivery you promised, is standing on the runway at Bagdad. Cohen is still alive because of you. I told you to get rid of him shortly after I heard the tape but you had other ideas. Well now you can go to hell." The line went dead.
Liebermann sat thinking. Why had Wainright not left and why worry about Prewit? To stay meant almost certain arrest now that the CIA knew about the operation. Why was there no arrest?
"What are you thinking?" Abdul had been standing, watching him.
Liebermann thought for a moment. "He hasn't been arrested because they don't know where he is," he answered his own thoughts. "That's why he wants Prewit. He guessed I was going to quiz his pet mongrel about the smuggling system and decided to make sure Prewit was well out of the way."
"I don't understand," said Abdul.
"It doesn't matter. Start searching again. I need to know where Prewit is right now." He got up and looked around the room. "We still have a payday. Search for anything in photos, letters, unusual memorabilia and clothes that might give us a clue."
"One thing is obvious already." Abdul picked a trophy up from a small cabinet. "He's a keen fisherman. There are several of these and quite a few fishing magazines."
Liebermann started looking through the wardrobe and found several photo albums on the top shelf. They were full of Prewit posing in combat fatigues with rifles and pistols. Other pictures showed him in Neo-Nazi uniform. Liebermann took little interest in them.
"What about this?" Abdul tossed a framed picture onto the bed. It showed Prewit and a group of anglers sitting in a boat. Behind him was a large boatshed. On the doors, painted in large letters was his company's logo, WWT in a half circle surrounding the top half of a knight with a sword in his hand. Next to the shed was a long pontoon. Tied to it were a line of several small float planes.
"Abdul, you may just have redeemed yourself. There are several lakes in this area but which one would you expect to find so many float planes?"
"The largest one."
"Precisely. Lake Coeur d'Alene. The surrounding mountains are an ideal place to hide."
***
Raithe followed Harry out of Spokane Arrivals to a waiting airport transit coach.
Harry's phone rang.
"Yes." Harry's face darkened. He leaned against the transit coach taking them to the Enterprise car hire office and listened intently. A minute later he snapped the phone shut, stunned.
Raithe boarded the van and looked over his shoulder. "What's up?"
"That was Lightfoot. Good news and bad. Good news is Iraqi forces have killed or captured a large group of the Islamic terrorists on the border with Syria. Bad news…Langley got a call from Bagdad. The rockets are definitely on the plane…but two are missing."
Half an hour later, Raithe turned the Ford off the main highway and headed further into the dense Douglas fir and tall pine tract that skirted the Coeur d'Alene Mountains. For the past half hour the sky had slowly blackened bringing a premature dusk that brightened briefly every few minutes as the afternoon sun appeared from behind the banks of heavy clouds.
Spots of rain began peppering the windshield. Raithe pushed the windshield stork forward and turned the headlights on. He looked down at the paper in Harry's hand. Mary had given them Prewit's home address but in the more desolate areas, particularly amongst the trees it was hard to find homesteads. A lot lay back off unmade roads some quarter of a mile without any signs. Some were at the end of dirt tracks. Residents here were wary of strangers.
Minutes later as the rain hammered the top of the Ford, Prewit's house came into view as they drove around a bend, bouncing through mud filled pot holes. Harry woke from a cat nap and cursed the conditions.
He slapped the arm rest. "How the hell do people live out here in this inhospitable place full of mud?"
Raithe smiled but said nothing and pulled into the drive, stopping just short of the front veranda steps. Prewit's truck stood outside. A screen door at the rear of the house banged and squealed as the wind pushed it back and forth.
"Be careful," warned Harry, taking a Beretta from beneath his jacket.
They both jumped out of the Ford and climbed the worn wooden steps. Harry pushed the front door. "Locked of course. Let's try the back."
Harry followed Raithe around the side of the house through thick uncut grass to the rear veranda. The back door stood open. "Either someone left in a hurry or someone got in and forgot to close the door as they left," said Raithe sarcastically. A quick search through the rooms confirmed Harry's worst fears.
"The man has gone. Let's look for anything that might tell us where he is."
"Or who's already been here," said Raithe. He held a photo up between his fingers. "There are several photos of a lake and Prewit's warehouse and float planes. Pretty good guess where Liebermann is heading right now. Maybe he's already there. Damn it, Harry, we have to get to Coeur d'Alene. We should have guessed by Prewit's address and gone straight there."
Harry grimaced and agreed. "Come on, we don't have much time."
Several minutes later as they reached the main road, Harry's phone rang.
"Yes, Michael."
"Strange as it might be, Harry, apart from the CIA the other security services including the FBI are not aware of your involvement and the White House wants that to remain so. The president has ordered our search for the room suspended for the time being. You are to hold back while the FBI gets involved along with the CIA. If you do find out where Wainright and Liebermann are you are to call Langley immediately…sorry Harry."
The men drove on in silence after Harry relayed the message.
Raithe snapped his fingers. "I appreciate the rockets are more important than the room, Harry, but surely there has to be a way for us to stay in the hunt. Besides…" he looked sideways at Harry…"I have a meeting planned with Heinrich."
"So do I dear boy," said Harry as they drove back into the Hertz car lot. "That's why we are still helping to catch the smugglers as far as Jerusalem is concerned. However, the way to the room is finding the rockets first. We must try to earn some praise from the Americans so that on the day of reckoning Jerusalem are not to mad at me. We must walk a tightrope without falling off."
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Wainright pulled the rug back and inspected the crates. One slightly longer than the other, they lay across the trunk of his car. Special arrangements with the captain of the Nicholas, arranged before the shipment left Fort Lewis, assured him of the technology if things went wrong. Things had gone wrong but the sale of one rocket was going to assure enough finance to open up another pipeline in a few months. The Nicholas crew separated the two numbered crates from the others after departing the Valerie Nintz. On reaching Vladivostok, the crates made a return journey in a container bound for Seattle. Marked as machine parts he eventually received them at his home in New York State. He replaced the rug and congratulated himself. All was not lost.
