See Charlie Run

Chapter Eleven

By the time he reached the darkened American embassy, Charlie had fully prepared his approach to the CIA Resident. There were none of the delays of the earlier visit: the marine guard expected him by name and when he reached the vestibule from the main guard post Fredericks was waiting. The man hadn’t shaved, and after a full day and so late into the night his face was black with beard.

They walked unspeaking through the insecure outer offices into Fredericks’ memorabilia-festooned, electronically protected room, and the moment they entered Charlie went into the performance.

‘No tricks,’ he said.

‘What?’ frowned Fredericks.

‘Tonight we agreed no tricks,’ reminded Charlie. ‘So I’m keeping my side of the bargain. Everything up front, from now on.’

Fredericks looked uncertainly at him. ‘Like what?’ he said.

‘We think we’ve identified someone Kozlov killed; one of your guys,’ said Charlie.

Fredericks came forward in his chair, all animosity gone. ‘Who!’

‘The name was Bill Paul,’ said Charlie. ‘Ran a right-wing magazine in London: CIA financed. My people have confirmed he was deep-cover Agency. He was murdered in London, in January 1980. No one was ever arrested …’

‘Son of a bitch …!’ said the American. It was a remark to himself, not to Charlie.

‘There was another unexplained death, connected with Paul,’ continued Charlie. ‘A Ukrainian dissident called Valeri Solomatin. He used to write for Paul. Drowned in a supposed fishing accident. Our counter-intelligence didn’t accept it was an accident. Happened about a year after Paul’s death; March ‘81.’

‘Kozlov was based in London?’

Give a little to gain a lot, thought Charlie. He nodded and said: ‘The name was Gordik: he was attached to a trade mission.’

‘But we …’ began Fredericks.

‘Not on the diplomatic list,’ said Charlie.

‘The bastard!’ said Fredericks, another self-addressed remark.

‘What will your people do to him, after debriefing?’ asked Charlie.

‘Not my decision,’ reminded the American. ‘I’ve just got to make sure he gets there. After that it’s out of my hands.’

The likelihood of American retribution provided just the sort of pressure to threaten Kozlov and persuade him to dump the CIA to come over to them, realized Charlie; bloody nuisance he hadn’t known the details before his meeting with the Russian. Time enough later. He said: ‘Soon things will be out of both our hands.’

‘Fixed the meeting?’

‘I said everything up front, remember?’ enticed Charlie.

Fredericks nodded.

‘I meant it,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s tomorrow …’ He paused, and then he said: ‘And I’m going to take her.’

Fredericks’ astonishment, at the announcement, was obvious. At once he said: ‘But that means …’

‘He’s coming to you, at the same time,’ stopped Charlie. ‘Everything can coordinate perfectly. You’re ready, aren’t you?’

Fredericks hesitated, trying to assemble his thoughts in the proper order. He said: ‘No problem.’

‘That’s good,’ said Charlie, a remark for his own benefit.

‘You didn’t give me a time?’ prompted the American.

‘Noon,’ said Charlie.

‘You tell Kozlov it was going to be then?’

‘No,’ said Charlie. ‘Best neither of them know, until the actual moment. Less chance of a last-minute change of heart.’

‘He seems unsure to you then?’ demanded Fredericks, concerned.

The very opposite, thought Charlie, remembering the Russian’s demeanour. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘But things can change, when it comes to making the commitment.’

Fredericks paused again, wondering whether to risk the direct question. Taking the chance, he said: ‘Getting her out right away?’

‘Safest thing to do,’ said Charlie.

‘We’ll do the same,’ said the American, as if he were matching the openness.

‘This time tomorrow she will be halfway to England and the safety of a base.’ Surely he couldn’t miss that as a pointer!

‘Sorry if I got out of line a few times,’ said Fredericks.

‘We both did,’ said Charlie.

‘Keyed up, I guess,’ continued the American.

Soon they’d be dancing cheek to cheek, thought Charlie. He said: ‘Usually happens. No hard feelings about tonight?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I’d have tried the same thing myself,’ admitted Charlie. He thought once more how well Fredericks lied.

‘What did you think of Kozlov?’

‘No doubt at all that he’s genuine KGB,’ said Charlie. Continuing the truthfulness, because there was no danger, he added: ‘Still can’t reconcile that lack of nervousness.’

‘He’s a killer,’ reminded the American. ‘Trained to control any emotions. It was a point you made.’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Charlie.

‘Anything else we need to talk through?’

‘Can’t think of it,’ said Charlie.

Fredericks rose, extending his hand. ‘Glad everything worked out,’ he said.

The handshake was crushing, but Charlie didn’t react. He said: ‘It hasn’t, not yet.’

‘It’s going to,’ said Fredericks. ‘It’s got the right feel.’

Charlie wondered what the other man’s attitude would be tomorrow. ‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ he said.

It was past one o’clock when Charlie got back to the hotel and his body ached with fatigue, one part predictably more than any other. His feet just didn’t ache: they hurt, like buggery. But worth it, he told himself: he was ahead, where he liked being. Secure in his room, he looked again at the photograph of Irena Kozlov, carefully inserting it into the passport slot and sitting back, realizing he didn’t have a name. Inexplicably he thought of Sir Alistair Wilson’s hobby and decided upon Rose. Which left the surname. There was nothing wrong with the one his mother had, when she finally married with him in the congregation. Adams, he completed, staring still at the document. She didn’t look like a Rose; definitely a dog, wearing lipstick.

‘Well!’ demanded Fredericks.

The assembled CIA agents looked between each other and then Levine said: ‘Seems to be a sudden change.’

‘We did make a deal,’ reminded Fredericks.

‘Did you intend to keep to it?’ asked Levine.

‘No,’ admitted the supervisor.

‘Which is why I’m surprised he appears to be doing so.’

‘You reckon it’s a military plane?’ asked Elliott.

Fredericks nodded: ‘It’s got to be some sort of aircraft, to get her out anyway. Halfway back to base; that’s what he said. Military planes land at bases.’

‘What about us?’ asked Fish.

‘A C-130 from the Philippines,’ said Fredericks.

‘Where do we snatch the woman? asked Yamada.

‘The most important question,’ agreed Fredericks. ‘So OK, let’s go through it and make sure we get it right. There’ll only be one shot and I don’t want to lose it …’

‘Guess Kozlov will insist on the usual run around?’ said Levine.

‘We’ve certainly got to allow for it,’ agreed the supervisor. ‘It means we’re going to be stretched.’ He looked at Dale. ‘You’ll have to cover the hotel, as always …’ To Fish he said: ‘You drive for me …’

‘What about me?’ asked Yamada.

‘We’ll need liaison, between us with Kozlov and the others with the woman,’ said Fredericks. ‘Once we get them both I want us out of this country so fast there’ll be scorch marks. That’s your job …’ He came to Elliott, remembering the determination to settle with the Englishman and deciding to give the man the opportunity. He said: ‘You and Hank get Charlie Muffin.’

Elliott smiled at once and said: ‘You better believe it; I’ll get Charlie Muffin.’

Fredericks felt a flicker of doubt. ‘It must be right, like I said,’ he warned. ‘We’ve no idea what she looks like so we’ve got to wait until the contact is made. His moving with a woman will be our identification, so nothing before then. And still not too soon. I don’t want her having the chance to run. Remember she won’t want to come with us.’

Elliott raised his hand, a stopping gesture. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘There won’t be any mistakes.’

‘There hadn’t better be,’ said Fredericks. ‘Remember, he’s a sneaky son-of-a-bitch.’

‘I’m sneakier,’ said Elliott.

It was very late and this part of the airport was deserted and Jun Hayashi was nervous, pulled deep into the shadows of a cargo shed. He was completely unaware of the Russian’s approach, grunting his surprise when Kozlov appeared abruptly beside him.

‘Well?’ demanded Kozlov.

‘Americans as well as the British,’ said the Japanese, nodding behind him. The aircraft were too far away in the darkness to locate.

‘You’ve done well,’ said Kozlov, handing over the payment. ‘Very well indeed.’

‘Damned capitalists!’ said Hayashi.

Kozlov was glad of the darkness, which hid his amused reaction to the outburst. ‘They’ll be brought down,’ he said.