Authors: Brian Freemantle
Fredericks' astonishment, at the announcement, was obvious. At once he said: âBut that means â¦'
âHe's coming to you, at the same time,' stopped Charlie. âEverything can coordinate perfectly. You're ready, aren't you?'
Fredericks hesitated, trying to assemble his thoughts in the proper order. He said: âNo problem.'
âThat's good,' said Charlie, a remark for his own benefit.
âYou didn't give me a time?' prompted the American.
âNoon,' said Charlie.
âYou tell Kozlov it was going to be then?'
âNo,' said Charlie. âBest neither of them know, until the actual moment. Less chance of a last-minute change of heart.'
âHe seems unsure to you then?' demanded Fredericks, concerned.
The very opposite, thought Charlie, remembering the Russian's demeanour. âNot at all,' he said. âBut 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: âGetting her out right away?'
âSafest thing to do,' said Charlie.
âWe'll do the same,' said the American, as if he were matching the openness.
âThis time tomorrow she will be halfway to England and the safety of a base.' Surely he couldn't miss that as a pointer!
âSorry if I got out of line a few times,' said Fredericks.
âWe both did,' said Charlie.
âKeyed up, I guess,' continued the American.
Soon they'd be dancing cheek to cheek, thought Charlie. He said: âUsually happens. No hard feelings about tonight?'
âOf course not.'
âI'd have tried the same thing myself,' admitted Charlie. He thought once more how well Fredericks lied.
âWhat did you think of Kozlov?'
âNo doubt at all that he's genuine KGB,' said Charlie. Continuing the truthfulness, because there was no danger, he added: âStill can't reconcile that lack of nervousness.'
âHe's a killer,' reminded the American. âTrained to control any emotions. It was a point you made.'
âPerhaps you're right,' said Charlie.
âAnything else we need to talk through?'
âCan't think of it,' said Charlie.
Fredericks rose, extending his hand. âGlad everything worked out,' he said.
The handshake was crushing, but Charlie didn't react. He said: âIt hasn't, not yet.'
âIt's going to,' said Fredericks. âIt's got the right feel.'
Charlie wondered what the other man's attitude would be tomorrow. âLet'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.
âWell!' demanded Fredericks.
The assembled CIA agents looked between each other and then Levine said: âSeems to be a sudden change.'
âWe
did
make a deal,' reminded Fredericks.
âDid you intend to keep to it?' asked Levine.
âNo,' admitted the supervisor.
âWhich is why I'm surprised he appears to be doing so.'
âYou reckon it's a military plane?' asked Elliott.
Fredericks nodded: âIt'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.'
âWhat about us?' asked Fish.
âA C-130 from the Philippines,' said Fredericks.
âWhere do we snatch the woman? asked Yamada.
âThe most important question,' agreed Fredericks. âSo 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 â¦'
âGuess Kozlov will insist on the usual run around?' said Levine.
âWe've certainly got to allow for it,' agreed the supervisor. âIt means we're going to be stretched.' He looked at Dale. âYou'll have to cover the hotel, as always â¦' To Fish he said: âYou drive for me â¦'
âWhat about me?' asked Yamada.
âWe'll need liaison, between us with Kozlov and the others with the woman,' said Fredericks. âOnce we get them both I want us out of this country so fast there'll be scorch marks. That's your job â¦' He came to Elliott, remembering the determination to settle with the Englishman and deciding to give the man the opportunity. He said: âYou and Hank get Charlie Muffin.'
Elliott smiled at once and said: âYou better believe it; I'll get Charlie Muffin.'
Fredericks felt a flicker of doubt. âIt must be right, like I said,' he warned. âWe'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. âDon't worry,' he said. âThere won't be any mistakes.'
âThere hadn't better be,' said Fredericks. âRemember, he's a sneaky son-of-a-bitch.'
âI'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.
âWell?' demanded Kozlov.
âAmericans as well as the British,' said the Japanese, nodding behind him. The aircraft were too far away in the darkness to locate.
âYou've done well,' said Kozlov, handing over the payment. âVery well indeed.'
âDamned capitalists!' said Hayashi.
Kozlov was glad of the darkness, which hid his amused reaction to the outburst. âThey'll be brought down,' he said.
Chapter Twelve
Charlie was up early, with a lot to do before noon. âSmooth as silk,' he told himself, in the bathroom mirror. So why was he still unable to lose the feeling that any minute that steel-shod boot was going to catch him where it hurt the most. Kozlov was unquestionably genuine: no doubt about that, like he'd told Fredericks. Reason for the split defection made sense, too, because defectors
were
despised and frequently dumped, when their usefulness was exhausted. All the negotiations had been convoluted, but that made professional sense, also, because at any minute Kozlov could have pulled back. OK, so he hadn't withdrawn when Fredericks maintained his warned-against surveillance, but that wasn't an important inconsistency. Neither was the fact that Irene had been kept out of it; professionalism again, because it minimized the danger. Nothing wrong then. So maybe it was a hundred and one per cent genuine; maybe he was a suspicious old sod with thinning hair and painful feet and bloodshot eyes, who'd spent so much time making two plus two equal five that he couldn't properly add up anything any more. And yet he could still feel that incoming boot.
Mind held by his self-description, Charlie leaned forward in the mirror. Eyes weren't bloodshot â well, not much anyway â and the hair wasn't thinning; just looked that way because he'd slept awkwardly. Not in bad shape at all, really, providing he remembered to breathe in all the time and walk with his chin up, to lessen the jowl droop. He managed to shave without cutting himself and chose the freshly pressed suit and the tie that no longer showed the pie stain, smiling at his unusual reflection in the larger mirror. Posh enough for a wedding, he decided. The reflection ran on, soberingly; people dressed up for funerals, as well.
He picked up the passport, checking his entries of the previous night, pausing at the photograph of Irena Kozlov. Certainly no rose, he thought again. He searched for the descriptive word and came up with formidable. Irena Kozlov certainly looked a formidable woman. He guessed it would take a long time fully to debrief her, everything having to be done at her speed and pace. Charlie hoped he didn't get lumbered with the task; he disliked being boxed up for weeks in guarded country houses, painstakingly stripping the facts from the invariable self-important fiction with which defectors always attempted to make themselves appear better catches than they were. Bad as damage assessments, when one of their own people went walkabout. The thought led naturally to Herbert Bell; better as a conduit, the Director had said. Charlie wondered what disinformation they were feeding the Russians through the Foreign Office traitor. Sir Alistair Wilson was a cunning old bugger: whatever it was, Charlie knew it would be confusingly good.
Charlie did not hurry through the long walkway to the main foyer and stood back for a couple at the taxi rank, wanting at this stage to make it as easy as possible. He didn't check until the vehicle was down the ramp and into the immediately clogged streets, looking idly through the rear window. Difficult in conditions like this, with so many cars, but he put £5 on the black Nissan with the central roof aerial: two men, neither Japanese. There'd be plenty of opportunity to make sure; Haneda was a bloody long way from the city. Of which he had not seen enough, Charlie decided. When Irena was safely away he'd definitely do the rounds in Niban-cho: he liked the look-at-me neon with bars the size of cupboards and bills the size of wardrobes, especially when it was Harkness's money. Invite Cartright, maybe; give him indigestion, if he were Harkness's man.
Charlie guessed correctly about the Nissan. Levine, who was driving, said: âI guess the airport.'
âWhere the hell is the pick-up?' said Elliott.
âCould be a dozen places.' His partner's constant anger worried Levine.
âNoon, he told Fredericks,' reminded Elliott. âHe's given himself a lot of time.'
âSuppose it would make sense to meet her
at
the airport?' said Levine.
âNot good for a snatch,' said Elliott. âToo open.'
âI wouldn't like it either,' agreed the other American. âDamn all we can do about it.'
âShouldn't we close up a little?'
âDon't want to spook him,' said the more controlled Levine. âIt's got to be the surprise of his life.'
âWhat there is left of it,' said Elliott.
âThe woman first,' cautioned Levine. He wished Fredericks had linked him with someone else.
They joined the airport highway and Charlie made another check and decided he was right about the Nissan. He wondered what Washington's plans were, to get Kozlov out. It had to be an aircraft of some sort: and military, too. With their bases on Guam and in the Philippines, the Americans were better placed than London had been. Alas, thought Charlie, for the passing of the British Empire, gunships and natives everywhere who knew the words to âRule Britannia'.
The routing signs began to indicate the airport and Levine said, âNo doubt about it.'
âGoing to be a bastard if the meeting is there,' said Elliott, echoing the earlier concern.
âThe woman first, then him,' insisted Levine. âLet's not fuck up by getting the priorities wrong.'
âHate to miss the opportunity, after what he did,' said Elliott.
âHis losing her will be enough,' said Levine.
âNo it won't,' said Elliott. âNot half enough.'
In the car in front Charlie leaned forward, indicating to the driver he wanted the military transportation area in the cargo section and not any of the main civilian passenger terminals.
Levine saw the car's change of direction and said: âShit! We'll be obvious, if we stay this near!'
Elliott tensed against the windscreen and Levine saw him reach down to unclip the restraining strap on the ankle holster. Levine eased the car back, edging himself behind the hopeful concealment of a food delivery lorry. As he did so he saw the camouflaged markings on some of the parked aircraft they were approaching and said: âIt checks out, with what he told Fredericks: a military plane.'
âWhere's the goddamned woman!' demanded the other American.
Levine saw the taxi stop against the military terminal building and managed to get his car into a filter road and behind a cluster of single-storey sheds.
âWhat now!' said Elliott.
âWe watch and we wait,' said Levine.
Charlie Muffin entered the control area for transitting foreign military personnel, gazing through a window on to the apron, trying to identify the British aircraft. He saw an Air Force rondel about five aircraft away from the main building.
Sampson responded within minutes to the Tannoy paging, a stiffly upright, closely barbered, open-faced man, obviously military despite the civilian clothing.
âI was expecting to come to see you, sir,' said Sampson. There was an eagerness to please about the man.
Charlie tried to remember the last time even a restaurant waiter had called him sir. He said: âThere was a particular reason.'
âA lot was explained to me in London,' said Sampson. âWhen's it to be?'
âToday,' said Charlie. âBut not from here.'
âI thought â¦'
âToo many interested observers,' said Charlie. âI'm running hare to the hounds.' It took him fifteen minutes to explain how Irena Kozlov was going to leave Japan, and when he finished Sampson said: âProviding she can go through with it, everything sounds remarkably simple. Very little for me to do, in fact.'
âThe best ways are always the simple ones,' said Charlie. âAnd there'll be enough to do, from Hong Kong.'