The Twentieth Day of January

CHAPTER 12

It was a bumpy flight in the Cessna and at LaGuardia they were stacked for fifteen minutes while the long distance planes, short of fuel, occupied the glide path. Snow came down, a thick white curtain that was wrenched aside continuously by the gale force winds. Steiner was waiting for him at the terminal entrance.

“How’d you know I was coming up, Joe?”

“I contacted Hartford. They gave me your ETA.”

“You got a car here?”

“Sure. But let’s grab a cup of coffee first.”

Nolan stood still, the snowflakes melting on his face as he stared at Steiner.

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s talk in the coffee-shop, chief.”

Nolan moved off, slapping the wet snow from his canvas travel bag. Until the coffee came he sat without speaking, but when the waitress left he looked at Steiner.

“OK. What is it?”

“We had to knock off one of the Russians.”

“Go on.”

“He pulled a gun on O’Hara. We checked it afterwards. The safety catch was off and there was one up the spout. O’Hara shot in self-defence.”

“Where was this?”

“In the yard at the back of Kleppe’s block in Sutton Place.”

“When?”

“Just after seven this evening.”

“Which morgue is he in?”

Steiner took a deep breath. “He’s not in a morgue, Mr. Nolan. I wasn’t sure you would want that.”

Nolan watched the cream turning in slow circles on his coffee as he slowly stirred it.

“Where is he?”

“In the boot of my car.”

“Jesus God. Where is it?”

“Here. In the car park.”

“Have you gone over him?”

“Yes. His name is Pankov. Leonid Pankov. Based in the Soviet Consulate-General. Big fellow. Typical KGB hit man.”

“What was the weapon?”

“A standard Luger and special silencer. KGB pattern. We’ve been trying to get a bug on Kleppe’s windows. O’Hara was checking. This guy came out of a garbage can.”

“What were you proposing to do with him?”

“Dump him.”

“Did you pay for the coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

Nolan was silent as they walked to the car park and as Steiner reached to turn on the ignition Nolan grabbed his hand.

“You did what was best, Joe. Is there any chance of a witness?”

“I’m pretty sure not, chief.”

“OK. Dump him. And dump him good. I don’t wanna know anything about it.”

“Right, chief.”

“Take me to the Central Park safe-house.”

Nolan stopped the car at the Chase Gallery and walked the rest of the way.

He called for the evaluation file on the KGB teams at the Consulate-General, and stood reading it as he absent-mindedly eased off his wet coat. Still reading, his hand searched behind him for the chair, and he pulled it forward and sat down slowly.

He was still there when the false dawn broke over the Park.