SDECE-the French Secret Service. He sacrificed stealth for speed in his search, though it wasn’t likely that Kurshin was still here. And it didn’t matter if he found out that questions were being asked. McGarvey wanted him to know that someone was dogging his heels. Still, it took the better part of three hours and seven waterfront bars before he came up with the name of a man who could be bought for a few francs and a cheap bottle of wine. Every city had such men. Marseille was no exception. “Mon dieu, the Russians mind their own business here just like the rest of us do” the old man said. He and McGarvey were seated across from each other at a small table. The bar was very noisy. Traffic on the nearby Canebiere was intense. “Nothing has happened in the city in the past few days, mon vieux” McGarvey asked, pouring a little more wine. The old man shrugged. “Many things happen in Marseille, monsieur”
He sipped at his wine. McGarvey took out Kurshin’s photograph and slid it across the table. The old man looked at it for a long moment or two, but then shook his head. “Non”
“You say the Russians mind their own business here, like everyone else”
McGarvey said, masking his disappointment. “Is it because of the French Mafia” The old man smiled slightly, his face wrinkling, his lips parting to show his brown, chipped teeth. “There is no such organization, didn’t you know”
“But everyone behaves” Again the old man shrugged. “They sometimes do not” McGarvey waited. “A few days ago, for instance, a very bad man disappeared to no one’s sorrow. It happens, tant pis”
“Who was this man”
“Edmon Railliarde. His loss will not be mourned, let me tell you”
“He simply disappeared”
“Oui” McGarvey sat back, a vague connection beginning at the back of his mind. Trotter had called Kurshin the chameleon. “Do you know what he looked like, this Railliarde? Can you describe him to me”
“Yes, of course” the old man said, glancing again at Kurshin’s photograph. “Much like this one. Of course I cannot tell his bulk from a simple photograph, but Railliarde was a large man. A very bad man”
“And he is missing”
“Yes, but as I say no one will mourn that one” McGarvey laid a fifty-franc note on the table, snatched the photograph, and got up.
“Mercy mon Vieux. You have been of inestimable service” Outside, McGarvey turned away from the waterfront and hurried on foot up the main boulevard finding a public telephone box five minutes later. He placed a call to Trotter at the embassy in Paris on the Avenue Gabriel. “I think I have a line on Kurshin” McGarvey said. “It’s possible he’s assumed the identity of a French Mafia boss from Marseille by the name of Edmon Railliarde” He quickly explained what he had learned. “Are you certain about this, Kirk” Trotter asked. He seemed oddly subdued, almost as if he were disappointed by McGarvey’s news. “Of course not, but it’s a start. What’s up” Again Trotter hesitated… “There is a developing situation at this moment in Germany. Ramstein Air Force Base. We were getting set to follow it up”
“I’m listening” McGarvey said. He had learned the hard way never to underestimate a Baranov plan. The man was as brilliant as he was convoluted and devious. “An Army Pershing H missile has apparently been hijacked from the base”
“By whom”
“Apparently an Air Force colonel by the name of Brad Allworth. He’s got help. But what started us thinking is that Allworth was here on leave in Paris until yesterday”
“What does he look like”
“We’re getting it off the Associated Press wire. Tall, well built, goodlooking, an all-American” The connections were suddenly completed in McGarvey’s head. “It’s him” he shouted. “Kurshin has got that missile”
“I thought you said he took on the persona of this Mafia boss. “Listen to me, John. I’m going to get up to Ramstein as quickly as I can. I want you to meet me there. You’re going to have to open some doors for me.
But in the meantime ask the French if they have turned up a mutilated body somewhere in or around Paris within the past twenty-four hours.
“Mutilated … ” Trotter asked. “Yeah” McGarvey said. “My guess would be that his fingerprints, dental work, and face would have been destroyed. Perhaps in an accident. Sudden understanding dawned in Trotter’s voice. “Railliarde” he said. “He’ll be carrying the man’s identification” McGarvey said. “But my guess is he will be Colonel Allworth. Railliarde’s body will probably never be found”
“Good lord..” Trotter started to say, but McGarvey had hung up the telephone and was rushing down the street to the nearest cab stand.
The silence was eerie in the Hauptbahnhof Plaza across from the large train station a few blocks north of the city center. For nearly three hours the missile transporter had remained motionless in the middle of the square where it had been carefully positioned. “We must give them time to stabilize the situation” Kurshin explained. “I don’t want some nervous sharpshooter or overzealous polizei opening fire” Schey had said nothing, and although Yegorov had become clearly impatient, he too understood the wisdom of Kurshin’s order. They had switched off the radio so as not — to be disturbed. The three hours had also been necessary so that the means of their eventual escape could be put in place. Kurshin had been smoking a cigarette. He ground it out on the floor and then turned up the gain on the radar set. Three blips appeared, two to the south and one north. All three of them appeared nearly stationary. Helicopter gunships, he figured.
Next he glanced at the transporter’s rearward-looking television monitor. Across the square, about one hundred fifty meters away, he could see that all the streets entering had been blocked off by armored personnel carriers, uniformed police, and US. soldiers standing behind the barriers. He leaned forward and peered out the Lexan-covered slits.
The streets leading into the square from the north and northeast were also blocked off. In addition, he spotted at least half a dozen armed soldiers on the roofs of nearby buildings. “We’re hemmed in” Yegorov said. “Exactly. We’ve no means of escape so they’ll have calmed down by now” Kurshin said. He glanced over his shoulder at the East German, whose eyes were shining for the first time. He was still holding the trigger. “Are you ready” Schey nodded. Turning back, Kurshin switched on the radio. “Colonel Collingwood, this is Flybaby Six-P-Two. Do you copy”
“That’s affirmative” the radio blared immediately. “May I assume that you have this part of the city evacuated by now, and that you have positioned only disciplined troops around the perimeter”
“You may” Collingwood responded. “Very good, Colonel. Within the next sixty seconds two of us will be stepping out of the transporter and we will be going back to the missile itself. Let me remind you that one of our number shall remain at all times protected within the transporter, his finger on the device that controls the plastique. Do I make myself perfectly clear”
“You do” the Air Force security chief replied. “What are your intentions”
“In due time, Colonel. For the moment suffice it that if anyone tries to interfere with our operation in any way, disaster will strike”
“What do you want, god damnit” Collingwood shouted. “Make your demands”
“Again, in due time, Colonel. But you have my word as an officer and a gentleman that we mean no harm to either the German or American peoples”
“Then stand down”
“I’m afraid that is not possible. You will understand very soon what we mean to do. I will explain everything to you at 2000 hours. But one final word of caution. We mean to raise the missile into its firing position now. But nothing, absolutely nothing will happen if you and your men show restraint. Until 2000 hours” Collingwood was shouting something when Kurshin switched off the radio. He turned again to Schey.
“Give Ivan the trigger. It is time for us to get to work”
McGarvey was met at Frankfurt’s Rhine-Main Airport by the CIA’s number two out of Bonn, a husky but studious-looking man dressed in a dark blue blazer. ‘ “Todd Kraus” he introduced himself. “I’ve got a chopper standing by for you, Sir” It was a little past six in the afternoon. The airport was extremely busy but McGarvey had been passed through customs immediately. He followed the younger man across the terminal where they got in an Air Force sedan and sped to the opposite side of the field which housed the U.S.
Rhinemain Air Force Base. A Bell AH-IW Super Cobra ground attack helicopter was already warming up for
