Operation Petrograd

Two

Tokyo was across the International Dateline, fourteen hours later than Washington, D.C. What should have been late morning for Carter was just past midnight when his 747 touched down. The weather was cool, and rain clouds threatened inland. The city smelled of exhaust; it was the same smell as New York, or London, or Paris, and yet there was a difference here. This was the Far East. The mysterious Orient.

Kazuka Akiyama was waiting for him outside customs. She was a petite woman with delicate features. Tonight she was dressed in a tailored gray suit, an ivory silk blouse, and black pumps.

They had not seen each other in a couple of years. When they had parted they had been lovers, and friends. Now, however, her reception seemed cool. It hurt a little, though Carter did not want to admit it to himself.

"You had a good flight, Nicholas?" she asked formally.

"Long," Carter replied tiredly.

"I have a car just out front," she said, and she turned and led Carter across the busy terminal, down the broad escalator, and finally outside across to the pickup area where her red Datsun 300ZX was parked.

He tossed his bags in back, then climbed in on the passenger side as she put on her seat belt and started the engine. The entire airport area was lit up like day and was very busy even at that hour.

"Put on your seat belt, Nicholas," she said. "It's always much safer that way, especially in Tokyo traffic."

Something in her manner, in the tone of her voice, the way she held herself, suddenly struck Carter. He cursed his own stupidity as he buckled up. The Russians were here in force. They knew Kazuka, or certainly were able to guess that she was more than she presented herself to be, and now they'd be on Carter. They were, doubtless, very close at that moment.

Kazuka took off, pulling around a mini-bus and an airport limousine, and then pushed the pedal to the floor, the turbo-charged engine coming to life with a sudden, angry snarl.

She just made the light at the far side of the Pan Am terminal, and several startled people had to jump back up on the sidewalk.

Carter looked back in time to see a gray Mercedes pull away and come after them.

"We've picked up a tail," he said.

"A Mercedes?"

"Right."

They raced up the overpass that led south to Yokohama and north into Tokyo itself, tires squealing as she took the thirty-mile-per-hour curve at seventy-five.

They shot out of the access ramp onto the six-lane superhighway that was dense with traffic despite the hour, Kazuka expertly handling the powerful car, cutting between trucks, sometimes crossing four lanes of traffic in a split second with a flick of her tiny wrists.

Twice again Carter looked back. The first time he could see the Mercedes way back, but the second time the German car was no longer in sight.

"We've lost them," he said, turning back.

Kazuka's skirt had hiked up, exposing most of her shapely legs and thighs. She glanced over at him and smiled when she realized what he was looking at.

"It's nice to know that you haven't changed," she said.

Carter laughed. "I was beginning to wonder about you back there."

"They've been following me around like glue ever since Paul Tibbet got himself killed. They had a parabolic antenna on us back there, picking up every word we were saying to each other. I spotted them on the way in."

She glanced in the rearview mirror.

"They would have known I was here sooner or later," Carter said. "Have you been able to find out anything?"

"Not a thing," Kazuka replied, shaking her head. Her long dark hair was pinned up in the back, exposing her delicate neck and tiny ears. "I've got most of the crew watching them. But I don't think the Russians themselves have any idea where the lieutenant hid the chip."

"Did your office have any advance notice of the meeting?"

"Not a word, Nick. Everyone at the embassy has been running around for the past two weeks getting ready for the President's visit. I hadn't seen Paul for at least a month. Evidently this came out of the blue."

"Any idea how long Lavrov had been here in Tokyo?"

"Just a couple of days," Kazuka said. "You have to admire his quick work spotting Tibbet."

"They must have been on him from day one, then," Carter said.

"Yet he was able to hide the chip."

Carter had thought about that paradox. If Lieutenant Lavrov's coworkers at the Soviet embassy knew that he was getting set to defect — knew so that they could set him and Tibbet up for the kill at the zoo — why was it they did not know the location of the computer chip? What was he missing?

"I have you booked at the Tamaka Hotel. It's quiet and out of the way."

Carter looked at her. He smiled. "Sure to bring back some memories."

She smiled too. "I was hoping it might, Nicholas. It's been a long time."

"Too long," Carter said. "Far too long."

The rest of their drive into the city was uneventful, though Kazuka carefully circled the hotel area several times to make absolutely certain they had not been picked up.

When she was satisfied, they parked in a ramp half a block behind the hotel and came in on foot. This section of Tokyo, called Kanda, was very near the Sumida River that divided the city in two. It was quiet at this time of night, and the back alleys and narrow side streets were hidden in darkness.

The Tamaka, which in Japanese meant "jewel," was a sixteen-story cream-colored building. Inside, the obsequious desk clerk registered Carter and the bellman helped them upstairs.

When they were alone, Kazuka came into his arms and he held her close. He had forgotten just how good she felt. After a moment or two she looked up into his eyes and they kissed deeply, the months and years of separation melting away as if they had never existed.

"I haven't forgotten you, Nicholas," she said. "A day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought of you."

Carter smiled tiredly. "I'd make a lousy husband."

"I don't care. You're here now. Yesterday is gone forever, and tomorrow is an unknown."

She helped Carter off with his jacket, then undid his tie, pulled it off, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"There's nothing we can do tonight," she said. "Besides, you'll be suffering from jet lag."

"Disorientation," he offered.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and kissed his chest. "Lethargy."

"No desire," he said.

"No desire," she purred softly.

Carter kicked off his shoes and picked her up off her feet. They kissed on the way into the bathroom where the tub had already been turned on and was steaming. She kicked off her shoes at the door. Just inside, Carter reached back with one foot and closed the door to keep in the heat.

"I'm sorry Paul Tibbet was killed," she said. "And yet I don't care… it's brought you here."

Carter put her down and they finished undressing one another. Kazuka's breasts were small and proud, and Carter took each of them in his mouth, running his tongue around the darker halo of her nipples. She arched her back, a small moan escaping her lips.

He kissed the area between her breasts and then began to move down, Kazuka holding his head in her hands as he slipped off her skirt and panties.

"Nicholas?" she sighed.

He kissed her there, slowly, his tongue lingering, her entire body vibrating with pleasure as her hips began to move almost of their own volition.

Carter was ready. With her, it had been a very long time. And her body was so sweet.

He rose up swiftly and lifted her up onto him, entering her that way, their eyes locked into each other's, her lips parted and moist, her breath coming in little gasps.

Carefully he sank down with her so that they were lying on the thick soft mat in front of the tub, and he thrust deeply, her body swallowing his, her muscles contracting, increasing his pleasure tenfold.

As they made love, leisurely, deliberately, with the knowledge of experience, and with their feeling for each other so obvious. Carter could see the pleasure building in her eyes, and it made it even better for him.

He began to vary his rhythm, at times thrusting deeply, at times lingering for a second or more almost outside her body until Kazuka was nearly ready to cry out with the exquisite pain of her anticipated pleasure, and then he would drive into her again, her pelvis rising to meet his.

Three times they were at the peak, but each time they backed away, unwilling to let their pleasure go so easily. They would rest then, together — willing their hearts to slow, willing themselves back to control. But each time it became more difficult to hold back, and finally Carter did not stop. Finally he abandoned all control, her lovely legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his hands on her buttocks pulling her up, their bodies meshing in perfect unison.

"Nicholas!" Kazuka cried out, and Carter could see that she was there with him, and he let go, driving deep inside her and holding, as their entire existence focused on one perfect moment that seemed to go on and on.

They climbed into the tub and soaked and talked about nothing. Afterward they went to bed and made love again, this time even more slowly and with even greater pleasure. It was nearly five in the morning before Carter sank into a pleasantly exhausted sleep in which he and Kazuka ran through the fragrant woods near her uncle's mountain home.

It was a pleasant dream, and for a long time in the morning he was unwilling to wake up. Finally, however, he remembered where he was and why he had come there, and he sat up with a start.

Kazuka had already gone to the AXE office. She had left a note for him by the telephone. They were to have lunch together at noon in a small restaurant they both knew well in Tokyo's Ginza district.

Carter ordered up coffee and buttered toast. While he waited for room service, he took a quick shower and got dressed, checking and strapping on his weapons.

The English-language Tokyo Tribune came with his tray, but there was nothing of significance in the morning's news. If the Japanese knew that the Russians were running around looking for a missing computer chip and killing American CIA agents in the process, they were not publicizing it in their newspapers.

It was almost ten-thirty by the time he left his room and took the elevator down to the lobby.

Major Matsu Rishiri, who headed the Japanese CIA's counterespionage division, had been waiting. He rose and crossed the lobby to meet Carter. He was a small, cruel-looking man with a long jagged scar over his right eyebrow and a false left hand covered by a black glove. Ten years ago he had been a second lieutenant. He and Carter had worked together, both in Tokyo and to the south near Nagasaki fighting a Chinese Communist infiltration plot. A grenade had gone off, taking Rishiri's hand and nearly his life. He hadn't liked Americans very much at the time; he felt the Orient and her problems should be left to Orientals. He and Carter had not parted the best of friends.

"Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Carter," Major Rishiri said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

They shook hands.

"Evidently your passport control computer system has been installed and works well," Carter said. He had counted on at least some anonymity for twenty-four hours. Now, however, it seemed as if everyone in Tokyo knew he was there.

Rishiri shrugged. He took Carter's arm and together they walked outside. The morning was cool but sunny. The streets were crammed with traffic.

"I am told that you spent the night with a beautiful woman," Rishiri said conversationally as they walked.

The major's driver was following them with his car.

"I have friends here."

"Anyone I should know?"

Carter was silent for a moment. "What brings you all the way across town from Kojimachi-ku this morning, Matsu-san?"

"One must pay respects to old friends."

"I'm here to find 6ut about Paul Tibbet's murder."

"Just so," Rishiri replied. "But you bother me, Nicholas-san. Everywhere you go, death and destruction follow." He held up his black-gloved metal hand. "It's not been so long I still don't remember the pain."

"You could always have me expelled."

"The thought has crossed my mind, believe me. But I think I might run into some trouble." Rishiri shook his head. "Instead I think I shall just watch and wait."

Carter smiled. "For what?"

"For you to uncover the real reason Paul Tibbet was killed in Ueno Park. And why just now there are so many Russians running around my city." Rishiri stepped a little closer. "It strikes me, Nicholas-san, that they are rather frantically looking for something. I wonder what it might be?"

"I don't know," Carter said.

Rishiri laughed out loud, stopped a moment, then laughed out loud again as he turned and climbed into the back seat of his car. Before he left he looked out at Carter.

"This is my city now, Carter. You would be wise not to forget it."

"And you would be wise, Major, not to forget that I am your friend, not your enemy."

Rishiri powered up his window, and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb, merging with the heavy traffic.

For a moment or so Carter remained standing where he was. Undoubtedly Rishiri's men were nearby, watching him. This was indeed the major's city. Rishiri could put so many teams on one man that it would be virtually impossible to shake them all. But the Russians had fielded a lot of men as well. It was time for a diversion, Carter thought, that could very well kill two birds with one stone.

The Soviet embassy was housed in an imposing brick building that bristled with antennae in Kojimachi-ku, the diplomatic section of Tokyo. Carter took a cab crosstown from Kanda, instructing the driver to drop him off a couple of blocks away from the embassy.

Paying the driver, Carter was able to spot at least three of Rishiri's teams: one across the street in a black Toyota Celica; one behind in some make of windowless van with a lot of antennae; and ahead a cab whose sign was lit for occupied but whose back seat was empty. Carter had to smile. Yet Rishiri had warned him, so they didn't feel it was necessary to hide themselves. There would be others, though, Carter suspected. Others who would be less obvious.

He stepped around the cab, but instead of continuing down the crowded sidewalk, Carter turned, watched for a break in traffic, and hurried across the street.

As everywhere in Tokyo, this area was extremely busy, the streets filled with people, cars, trucks, and buses.

He ducked into a small shop that sold leather goods. A couple of customers inside looked up in surprise as he apologized profusely in Japanese, then stepped around the counter, through a curtained doorway, and out the back into a narrow alley.

Rishiri's men appeared at both ends of the alley, as Carter suspected they would. He turned and raced toward one end of the alley, the two men there waiting calmly for him. At the last moment he ducked into the back entrance of another shop — this one a florist-raced through to the front and emerged on the sidewalk just as a cab was discharging a passenger. He climbed in and ordered the driver to the Soviet embassy. Rishiri's men from the alley appeared at the front of the shop as the cab pulled away.

Carter looked out the rear window, smiled, and waved.

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the Soviet embassy. Time enough, Carter figured, for Rishiri's teams to regroup and come after him in force. Exactly what he wanted.

Carter paid the driver and stepped out across the street from the embassy, at the entrance to a small park with a Shinto shrine in the back.

Nearby was a stand selling fish, rice, tea, and beer. Carter walked over to it, ordered a beer, and lit a cigarette as he waited for the diversion to begin.

It didn't take long. The black Toyota Celica cruised by, the driver spotting Carter. A few seconds later the van pulled up fifty yards away and parked.

Carter was in plain view of anyone inside the embassy. By now his face was known from the airport. It wouldn't take the Russians very long to spot him and come running.

The same Mercedes from the airport pulled out of the embassy gate and headed slowly up the block. One of Rishiri's teams in the cab was just passing, and it took off after the German car.

A few moments later, four legmen emerged from the embassy gate. Two of them walked to the corner, while the other two headed directly across the street toward Carter.

Rishiri's men in the Celica and the van got out and were nervously watching Carter who held fast for another couple of seconds while he finished his beer.

He looked up, directly facing the Russians crossing the street, tossed away his cigarette, turned, and walked into the small park.

The Russians at the corner broke into a run, as did the ones crossing the street. Rishiri's men fell in behind them.

Inside the park, Carter ducked around the back of the shrine where he scrambled up over a tall brick wall. At the top he looked back just as the first Russian was crossing the park, a silenced gun held close to his body.

The Russian spotted Carter, brought up his gun, and was about to shoot, when a shot rang out and he was driven forward onto his knees, the back of his head exploding.

Carter dropped down into the small garden of a private home as a woman screamed in the park, someone swore in Russian, and more shots were fired.

As he was hurrying across the garden, a sliding rice-paper door at the back of the house opened and a pretty young woman dressed in a kimono stood in the doorway.

She had heard the shots. She looked from the wall over which Carter had come, and then back at Carter. She hesitated a moment, but then she beckoned and stepped aside, indicating that he could pass through her home.

Carter quickly pulled off his shoes, bowed deeply to the woman, wished her well, and then hurried through the house, two children in the living room watching him with wide eyes.

In the front garden area, Carter donned his shoes again and peered out the gate. The street was busy there, but he could see no sign of Rishiri's men, or the Russians, though he knew it would only be a matter of a minute or so before they'd be coming over the wall, or at the very least coming around to that street.

He looked back. The young woman and her children were looking out at him. The children waved and smiled. Carter waved back, then stepped outside, crossed the street, and turned the far corner where he caught a cab.

It wouldn't take Major Rishiri very long to pick up his trail again, and this time Carter didn't think the man would be as cordial.

One thing puzzled him, though. He had expected the Russians would want to follow him once he had been spotted in front of their embassy. But the one coming into the little park had drawn his gun. He had orders to shoot.