Charlie M

(16)

Cuthbertson would think of it as a war-room, thought Charlie, watching the British Director move around the office, indicator stick held loosely in his right hand. He had used it like a conductor leading a symphony orchestra all morning.

Charlie yawned, unable to conceal the fatigue. It had been a series of fifteen-hour days since their return from Czechoslovakia. After the combined report from him and Braley, Ruttgers had been withdrawn to Washington for final consultations with the Secretary of State and the President, and two special Cabinet meetings had been called at which Cuthbertson had given the complete details at the personal prompting of the Premier.

There had been a final, direct telephone liaison between the American leader and the Prime Minister and then joint approval given for the crossing plan devised by Cuthbertson and Ruttgers.

One hundred and fifty British and American operatives had already been drafted into Vienna and three tons of mobile electrical equipment flown in and housed at the American embassy. Fifty more men were being moved in that day.

In Cuthbertson’s room, the map displacements had been completed. A gold flag marked Kalenin’s crossing at Laa and then markers indicated his anticipated journey along the minor roads through Stronsdorf to Ernstbrunn, then to Korneuburg and into Vienna through Lagenzerdorf.

If there were pursuit, then the decoy car was to ignore the Ernstbrunn turning and carry on towards Mistelbach. Separate coloured pins marked this contingency.

If the crossing went unchallenged, Kalenin would be brought to Vienna through a corridor of operatives, all linked by radio, so that they could close in behind, surrounding the Russian general in a circle of safety.

For two hours that morning, Cuthbertson and Ruttgers had stood before the map-table, lecturing on the crossing to the four section heads who were leaving that afternoon for the Austrian capital to co-ordinate the surveillance of the field operatives.

James Cox had already been withdrawn from Moscow and was in Vienna, waiting to be briefed on the decoy manœuvre he would perform on the Mistelbach road if the necessity arose.

Only the American section head knew about the explosive device and had been briefed in the privacy of the C.I.A. Director’s Washington office before the Atlantic flight. The explosive package had been flown to Austria with the electronic equipment.

The section leaders had filed out fifteen minutes before, leaving the five of them in the room.

‘All you’ve got to do,’ said Ruttgers, talking to Charlie, ‘is get him just one yard across that border; from then on there’ll be no way it can go wrong.’

Both he and Cuthbertson were hoarse with talking and it was Wilberforce who took up the discussion.

‘Even so,’ he said, ‘we’ve been cornered at the conviction of both of you that there’s still something wrong with this operation.’

Charlie humped his shoulders, resigned.

‘It’s not a new feeling with me,’ he reminded them. ‘I’ve had doubts from the beginning.’

‘Which have so far proven groundless,’ rasped Cuthbertson.

‘Harrison is dead and Snare insane,’ returned Charlie, immediately.

Cuthbertson reddened even more, annoyed at his error.

‘It’s not good about Snare,’ he admitted. ‘It’ll go badly for him after Kalenin crosses.’

‘If he crosses,’ corrected Charlie. The Director didn’t give a damn about Snare, Charlie knew. The whole project had become one of personal aggrandisement of himself and Ruttgers.

Ruttgers sighed, spreading his hands.

‘For Christ’s sake,’ he said, to both operatives. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I agree with Charlie,’ offered Braley, helpfully. ‘There’s not a thing I can prove, not a fact I can show to support the slightest doubt, yet I have the same misgivings.’

Wilberforce looked up from his bony hands.

‘But if anything were to have happened, it would have done so by now, surely?’ asked the tall man, reasonably. ‘You were open, identifiable targets in Prague.’

‘I’ve still got to cross at Laa, to assure him everything is ready,’ reminded Charlie.

‘That wouldn’t make sense, to grab you there,’ rejected Wilberforce. ‘Why bother to trap one man when he had two in the Czech capital. And he could have had you arrested far easier in Moscow, weeks ago.’

Charlie nodded.

‘I know,’ he said, defeated.

‘I think this is a pointless discussion,’ dismissed Cuthbertson. ‘Every proposal upon which we’ve decided has been assessed and analysed for faults. Any illogicality would have been thrown up. The only thing to result from further discussion will be confusion.’

Charlie gestured reluctant agreement.

‘So let’s get to the last details,’ hurried Ruttgers, impatiently.

Again it was Wilberforce who spoke, addressing the two operatives.

‘Kalenin said he didn’t want a caravan of cars,’ he reminded. ‘So there’ll just be you two in the lead Mercedes. In three other vehicles, about fifty yards back from the border, will be the resistance teams in case there is a pursuit, and the driver of the decoy car.’

‘What if Kalenin brings his own car across?’ asked Braley.

‘Transfer him immediately and leave it for disposal to the back-up team,’ instructed Wilberforce. ‘A Czech registered car will attract too much attention.’

‘There’s no courtyard in the Wipplingerstrasse house,’ remarked Charlie, looking at a blown-up photograph of where they were going to conceal Kalenin.

‘So?’ asked Ruttgers.

‘What happens if there is pursuit and your contingency plan doesn’t work quite as smoothly as you expect it to? Our car could be spotted at the border and then become a marker in Wipplingerstrasse. If the Russians try to get him back, it’ll be a blitz.’

‘Good point,’ praised Cuthbertson, reluctantly. ‘Once Kalenin is out of the vehicle in Wipplingerstrasse, move it away … hand it over to one of the back-up groups that will have travelled with you.’

‘What about border guards on the Austrian side?’ persisted Braley.

‘We’ve realised the importance of the time Kalenin stipulated,’ said Wilberforce. ‘Both sets of guards change duty at ten. The resistance team will look after the Austrian border officials and maintain the regular telephone liaison to ensure that nobody becomes suspicious until Kalenin is safely aboard the aircraft and on his way to London.’

‘How the hell do you avoid a diplomatic incident, immobilising border guards?’ queried Charlie.

‘We don’t try,’ lectured Wilberforce. ‘The men who take out the Viennese posts will be dressed as Czech soldiers and speak Czech, The protests will involve Czechoslovakia, not us. There’s no way we can be caught up.’

‘Unless the attack goes wrong.’

‘We’ve checked the border,’ insisted Wilberforce, irritated by the persistent argument. ‘At that time of night it’ll be staffed by three men and nothing has happened at the border since 1968. They’ve grown sloppy.’

‘Will we have a radio link in the Mercedes?’ asked Charlie.

‘Yes,’ took up Cuthbertson, ‘obviously you will. But I don’t think we should utilise it unless Kalenin needs any assurance that he’s being well cared for.’

‘What about separation?’ asked Braley.

Ruttgers smiled, an amateur magician with a favourite trick.

‘Kalenin is obviously determined to have the money with him at all times,’ he reminded them. ‘The bag will have a transmitter concealed in the bottom, allowing us complete monitoring at all times.’

‘Seems everything has been considered,’ said Braley, sycophantically. Both Cuthbertson and Ruttgers smiled, appreciatively.

‘Forty-eight hours from now,’ predicted Cuthbertson, ‘we’ll be sitting in this office, celebrating the biggest intelligence coup of our lives.’

‘With Aloxe Corton?’ asked Charlie, in soft sarcasm.

‘What?’ asked Wilberforce.

‘Nothing,’ said Charlie, standing up and going over to the flagged and pinned map.

‘A11 this, just for one man,’ he said, reflectively.

‘Not just for any one man,’ corrected Cuthbertson. ‘A very special man.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie, after a pause. ‘A very special man.’

Charlie lay on his back in the darkness. Beside him he could just discern the smoke of Janet’s cigarette.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she answered, practically.

‘It’s never happened before,’ he complained.

‘Keep on about it and you’ll become permanently impotent,’ said the girl. ‘With what you’ve got on your mind, what happened tonight is hardly surprising, is it?’

‘Didn’t happen,’ corrected Charlie.

The girl shifted position, annoyed again at the self-pity.

‘I don’t suppose the Director told you, did he?’ she asked, obtusely.

‘What?’ said Charlie, disinterested.

‘Sir Archibald Willoughby,’ said the girl. ‘He died while you and Braley were in Prague.’

For several moments, there was silence in the room. There was no movement at all from Charlie.

‘He was an alcoholic, apparently,’ offered the girl. ‘Been drinking for years.’

‘Not years,’ corrected Charlie, quietly. ‘Just about eighteen months. That’s all.’

‘Anyway,’ accepted the girl. ‘Cause of death was cirrhosis of the liver.’

‘He was a very unhappy man,’ said Charlie, more to himself than to the girl. ‘I’m glad he’s dead.’

He felt her turn to him in the darkness.

‘What an odd thing to say,’ she picked up. ‘How can you be glad anyone is dead?’

‘I knew him very well,’ explained Charlie. ‘He really didn’t want to live.’

The girl moved, rising on one arm to grind out the cigarette and then twisting, so that she hovered over him. The tips of her breasts were brushing his chest but there was no sexual feeling between them.

‘Be careful, Charlie,’ she said, worriedly.

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t be glib. I want you to come back.’

It was several minutes before he replied.

‘I’ll come back,’ he guaranteed, finally.

Janet was glad the room was in darkness. She would have been embarrassed for him to see her cry again.