The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (22 page)

Elena sighed. This was boring work, but it placed her near to her assigned “target.”

Michal sat back and shut his eyes. Images of stacks of Euros flashed before him. He would soon be rich and not just Elena, but women of all sorts, would seek his company.

The thought of the shapely Elena in a bikini-top, sunning on the white sands of a Caribbean island delighted him.

But the Baltimore Harbor in the evening, with lights shimmering over the waters and its excellent restaurants was a romantic setting too. And afterwards, if he obtained a room high over the waterfront, perhaps Elena would reward his attentions.

The fieldstone house was located at the end of a long wooded lane in the Virginia countryside near Middleburg. The small house had a central kitchen and living area with a bedroom on either side. The kitchen was ultra modern, and the open living area sported a large High Definition TV on the wall.

Ivana sat and faced the big screen. In Prague, Karel (for whatever reason) had forbidden her to watch the HBO series, “The Sopranos.” Here she was free. She clicked the remote relentlessly. After several minutes of fruitless search, she settled for the Food Channel and Bobby Flay grilling burgers “southwest” style. She imagined the delectable aroma of cooked meat.

But the aroma was real. Ivana looked over her shoulder. Bill Hamm stood over the kitchen stove. He held a spatula ready to flip two hamburger patties that sizzled in the pan.

Ivana smiled. She was beginning to like American ways.

“Bill, I want my burger ‘Over easily.’”

Bill laughed.

“That’s ‘Over easy,’ and that’s for eggs. You mean you want some pink in your burger, maybe like ‘Medium Rare.’”

She left the TV to stand by him. He skillfully slipped the meat patties onto their buns, and added toppings along with browned onions.

Ivana did not wait. She took a major bite, smacked her lips and smiled.

“Bill that’s really good. I like it.”

Ivana’s burger was half gone when Bill picked up his own plate and waved her to the kitchen table.

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s sit to eat.”

Ivana finished fast. Her last bite was in her mouth when Bill leaned back and spoke.

His first question did not surprise her.

“Ivana, what do you know about Hus-Kinetika’s plant in Maryland.”

But the second startled her.

“And what was your relationship with Michal Pacak, the chemist?”

Bill Hamm waited for an answer.

Ivana stared.
Is this question professional or personal?
She rubbed her hands as she answered.

“Bill, you saved my life, twice. And Gustav’s too. You know I like you and you know I’m grateful. Why do you want to know about Michal?”

Bill softened his tone, but tried to stay on topic.

“When did you first meet him, Ivana. Was it in Brno?”

She nodded.

“I was in the Fakulta of Fine Arts at the Technical University. He was in the
Fakulta chemická
. He was quiet, but intelligent, and he knew people.”

“What kind of people?”

“People. He became an intern in one of Hus-Kinetika’s labs. They worked on pesticides.”

“How well did you know him?”

Ivana’s face reddened.

“We dated, of course. But I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you want to know!”

Bill tried to appear objective.

“When is the last time you heard from him?”

“He’s at the Hus-Kinetika plant in Maryland. I sent him a postcard in January. I never heard back from him, I know about him because his Chief reports to Karel.”

She continued.

“So I can tell you that, ‘Yes,’ Michal is now an expert on the Novichok agents, and ‘No’ just because he works on them in Maryland, does not mean that the main stock of 95 tons is there. And ‘No,’ Gustav knows nothing I don’t. Even Karel doesn’t know how much I learned. I wasn’t dumb, and I kept my eyes open.”

She looked into his eyes.

“But tell me. Why do I think you already knew the answers to these questions, except that I didn’t sleep with Michal?”

Bill flushed. Ivana studied his face and went on.

“Your next question will be about Karel Moravec? Of course I slept with him. You already know that. Why do you want to make me say it?”

Her shoulders drooped. She trembled and her voice shook.

“It’s something I regret, but I can’t change. I was alone. I wanted to be away from Prague, far from Kladno. I went to Brno where I met Michal. He was smart and he had connections. When I graduated, he introduced me to Hus-Kinetika. They respected me. They offered me a promotion to move to Prague. I went. A year later, I was promoted again.”

“Then Karel noticed me. At first he kept his distance. I learned how to run his office. I was good at that. He leased a Mercedes for me to use on ‘business.’ I was flattered. A few months later, he leased an apartment for me, an expensive one. Of course I slept with him. What else could I do? You don’t tell Karel, ‘No.’ He didn’t love me, but I fooled myself that he did. He gave me gifts to ‘die’ for. Something inside me did die.”

“For over a year I was
his
property, a trophy to
display
in public and to
use
in private.”

“One morning recently, I woke up, I felt dirty. I took showers. Nothing helped. I was soiled inside, unclean, worthless.”

“I thought of my mother. I didn’t want to. I tried not to, but the thoughts would not go away. My mother was Catholic and she suffered for it. In spite of everything she endured, she never lost faith. She kept her dignity. She died clean. I imagined her praying, wanting me to be clean, wanting me to be worth something.”

“I felt sick, rotten. I knew I had to get away from Karel.”

“Then Karel told me he was going to kill Gustav, a former friend of my mother. I warned him and Karel found out. I had planned my escape well, but not well enough.”

She looked into Bill’s eyes and began to tremble.

“You saved me on that bus, and in Belgium. Even after I had deserted you, you found me and saved me again. And Gustav too. Bill, you risked your own life for me. You could have been killed.”

She looked down.

“My God, I still must be worth something for you to do that!”

Her words became sobs. She shook uncontrollably.

He moved next to her and took her hand.

In Maryland, Michal Pacak was back at his lab bench, but his thoughts were not of work.

His Saturday date with the beautiful Elena had started well. For over two hours, they had gulped beer and cracked crabs at a Baltimore harbor restaurant. Michal had been particularly pleased at Elena’s interest in, and admiration of, his work.

Afterwards, while sleek crafts cut back and forth through the harbor, they had walked along the docks. There, sundry boats tied to the sea wall were hosting onboard parties that featured splashing cocktails, loud music, and suggestively-clad bodies gyrating and bouncing to the beat.

Michal had admired one boat in particular, a Chris Craft Corsair whose owner informed him that for $160,000 plus a sizable tax, Michal too could captain his own Corsair. In the past, a jealous Michal would have been offended by the ostentatious man, but not this evening.

He knew that as soon as the Middle-Eastern buyers stopped dickering over the price, he would have enough Euros to buy a Corsair 28 or any other “toy” he might desire.

When the owner asked Michal and Elena to join the party, Michal’s foot was already on the ladder when Elena demurred.

That was his first disappointment of the evening. They had continued their stroll along the docks.

An hour later, Elena had complained of a headache. She asked to be driven home and he had complied. At the apartment, she had fled the car in haste, before Michal could open the driver-side door. By the time he stepped out of the car, she had disappeared into her apartment
.

What had started as a fine evening had ended in utter frustration!

Afterwards, to counter his disappointment, Michal had consoled himself with the thought of his near riches. He would “buy” lots of Elena’s, all of them “hotter” than the original.

Now the weekend was over and he was back at work. There was Elena, not far away. She was scanning her TV monitors.

He had to admit that she was “hot.” Maybe he still could ... ?

Michal’s thoughts returned to Novichok-H. Thus far he had mixed the two precursors of the nerve agent in a two-liter volume, the size of a large soda bottle.

Now his orders were to combine the two precursors in a volume suitable for a Mark 82 dumb bomb. With an average cross section of about 91 square inches and a conservative container length of 66 inches, he needed to mix the precursors in a volume of 6000 cubic inches (320 liters), a 160-fold increase in volume. This larger volume posed serious engineering problems.

Michal diagramed his solutions and ideas onto a yellow pad. He had filled two sheets with scribbling when the phone on his desk blinked. It was the boss.

“Michal, come down to my office.”

“Can it wait? I’m working on the Mark 82 problem.”

“No it can’t. The negotiations with our Muslim friends are moving forward, and we’re scrapping the dumb bomb delivery. We’ll try a more personal route. You’ll only need to scale half that size.”

Michal looked at his latest notes in dismay. Were they now worthless?

The boss continued.

“That’s not why I’m calling. Get down here, now.”

Michal left his desk. On the way to the elevator, he passed Elena. She turned from the monitor to smile at him. He nodded.

The “Down” arrow lit up and the doors slid apart.

Michal stepped into the elevator.

The lab secretary was not at her desk and Michal went straight through the inner door to the office. This was no staff meeting. There were only two people in the room. The Chief stood in front of his desk. Next to him was a stranger. He was dressed in a gray suit that sported a vest. Slightly bald, his hair was streaked with gray that bore no evidence of artificial coloring.

The man was several inches shorter than Michal, but he was not smaller. Michal realized that in any physical confrontation, he would be vanquished, and quickly.

It was the stranger’s eyes that affected him the most. They were deep, dark and perceptive. Michal knew, somehow, that those eyes would “see” his thoughts before Michal could speak them.

Michal stood silent, waiting for someone to speak.

No one did. The stranger waved his hand at the door and Michal’s Chief left the office. He closed the door after him.

The stranger sat behind the Chief’s desk. He motioned Michal to sit and spoke.

“My name is Josef Hrubec. I have just arrived from the home office to supervise security here. You are Michal Pacak?”

Michal could only nod.

“And you have two degrees from the Technical University of Brno?”

Michal found his voice.

“I do. I specialized in organic chemistry, in pesticides and the synthesis of organophosphate and carbamate compounds. I also interned at Hus-Kinetika while I took supplemental courses in chemical engineering and design.”

Hrubec appeared bored.

“Yes, Yes, and you know about our special task force. Do you know Elena Krkova?”

“She works at a station near mine. The third floor.”

“How long have you known her?”

“She’s new, from the old country. She just arrived.”

Hrubec frowned.

“Do you know if she is aware of the task force? Does she know about Novichok-H?”

Michal drew back. He shook his head.

“No.”

Hrubec opened the jacket of his suit. exposing a shoulder holster with a weapon. He spoke.

“I tell you frankly that Elena Krkova is
not
an associate of the task force. She should
not
know anything about our project or the nerve agents. Think carefully, Michal, before you answer. At any time have you told Elena, or implied to her, that your work went beyond pesticides? And have you ever indicated to her that you knew about Novichok Agents?”

Hrubec drew a 9 mm Browning from the holster and placed it on the desk.

Michal looked into Hrubec’s eyes. It did not seem possible, but those eyes had blackened further. Dissimulation was impossible. He stammered.

“We dated Saturday. I had too much beer, I wanted to impress her. I implied that I knew about Sarin and Soman. I did mention Novichok Agents. I assumed she was one of us.”

Hrubec replaced the Browning in its holster.

“Michal, because you told the truth, you just saved your life. You are an asset to us, but do not be indiscrete again. Your expertise will not save you twice.”

Michal swallowed as Hrubec continued.

“Did you know that Elena Krkova studied one summer in Vienna, that she met many Americans there?”

Michal shook his head. Hrubec continued.

“All right. Tell me about Bill Hamm. How did you meet him?”

“I never heard of him. I don’t know him.”

“And ‘Gustav Slavik,’ surely you heard of him?”

“No, never.”

“Do you know the address 16 Boltzmanngasse, Wien?”

“No.”

“Think. You’ve never been to the U. S. Embassy in Vienna?”

“Never.”

“All right Michal. We are almost done. A few more questions. You and Ivana Novotna were students together. Have you heard from her, or spoken to her since Brno.”

“I had a post card from her in January. I’ve heard nothing since.”

“Did you answer her, write or call?”

“No.”

Hrubec appeared satisfied. He rubbed his hands together. Then he waved Michal to the door.

Michal gulped and looked back.

“Sir, what about Elena? Am I allowed to speak with her, about ordinary things in the lab I mean?”

“Of course. Talk to her about anything. She will not survive to tell.”

Shaken, Michal turned to leave.

Behind him Hrubec spoke into the phone.

“Get her now. Bring her to me at once. Her name is Elena Krkova. She’s on the third floor.”

Michal heard, but dared not look. Head down, he hurried to the elevator.

A pensive Michal pushed the button for the third floor. Had he tried to deceive Hrubec, he would be dead now, a bloody mess on the office floor. He shuddered. Hrubec was evil.

For the first time Michal thought about the consequences of his research.

They told me that the Novichok Agent would be used in Africa, in local wars, and only as a deterrent to stop the other side from using their WMD’s. And my binary delivery system would be used for pesticides in the third world, to improve agriculture and health.

He had accepted these explanations. His boss was a scientist. He wanted to believe him.

The promise of a million Euros had dazzled him. He had locked his conscience behind a wall of abstract science. But Hrubec was the true soul of the task force.

Michal you are a fool. They won’t pay you in Euros, only in bullets. Their plan cannot be peaceful. My God!

Michal looked up. The red “3” above the door was lit.

The elevator had arrived on his floor.

Michal Pacak stepped out of the elevator and turned. Elena Krkova blocked his path.

“Michal, I’m sorry for Saturday night. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

Michal shrugged. Elena went on.

“No, I mean it. I can’t explain now, but I like you. That’s why I had to leave. It was fun being with you. It’s just that I, ... I’m not ‘free’ to have a relationship right now.”

Michal looked into her eyes. She truly was upset.

He looked back at the elevator. It had started downwards. He watched in silence as the light blinked “3,” then “2,” and then “1.” There it remained. He turned back to Elena.

“Elena, who are you, really? Why do they want to kill you?”

She paled, stricken silent.

Michal looked back at the elevator. It was on the way up. The “1” was no longer lit.

“My God, Elena, they’re coming for you. They’re on their way!”

Now the “2” was lit. Michal hesitated.
Michal, forget the money. They were never going to pay you. Hrubec is a murderer. Help her!

He took her hand.

“Elena, you must trust me. Come with me. Now!”

Moments later the “3” above the elevator door shone red as the doors opened. Two muscular security guards stepped out.

Each had his weapon drawn.