Kurshin held the telephone tightly to his ear as the secure connection to Moscow via the embassy’s satellite communications link was completed, and Baranov came on the line. He did not sound happy.
“What are you doing in Paris”
“I failed” Kurshin said simply. He was calling from a telephone booth at the end of a narrow side street off the Rue de la Fayette in an area of nice apartment buildings. “Yesl What about the others?”
“I disposed of the East German as you directed me to do. But Ivan was shot to death in the sewers”
Kurshin’s grip tightened on the telephone receiver. The man had come to the secondfloor window across the street. The line was silent for a long time, but Kurshin didn’t really mind. He was content for the moment to watch the man in the window above looking down at the street. He was evidently searching for something or someone. Here I am, Kurshin muttered to himself. “Tell me everything that happened, Arkasha”
Baranov was saying. “How did they know about the sewer? Did Schey say something to someone? Perhaps one of his friends”
“I don’t know, but there were two men in the sewers. One of them was wearing an Army uniform. Captain’s bars. But the other one The window curtains fell back and the man above was gone. “Yes” Baranov prompted.
Kurshin turned back to the telephone. “The other one knew my name”
“Impossible. “Nevertheless it is mm. And he knew your name. He said that you and he were old friends”
“All that in a dark sewer? You talked to him then. You perhaps became friends? So much so that you decided to spare his life? What, Arkasha?
Tell me, I am listening”
“I tried to kill him, and yes we had that discussion. But he was very good. He was willing to wait there in that tunnel with me to die when the rocket took off. “Which it did not. And you cannot tell me what this one looked like”
“Oh, yes” Kurshin said. “I did not leave the area. When I came up to where the car was waiting I drove immediately back to the square, to see … if he was successful”
“He was”
“Yes, he was” Kurshin said, the thought still terribly rankling. “He came out of the transporter and pulled the umbilical cords from the missile. Schey told us the launch was impossible to stop. But this one did it with his bare hands. There was a low, harsh sound on the telephone. Kurshin almost thought the KGB director was chuckling. “It must have come within a split second of the firing impulse, but the missile did not launch”
“You got a good look at him”
” Yes, I did, Comrade Chairman. A very good look. It is a face I shall never forget”
He looked up. The man had come back to the window. “In fact I am looking at him again this very moment, and as soon as I hang up I shall kill him. “What” Baranov suddenly screamed. “You are in Paris you’re calling from outside the embassy”
“Yes” Kurshin replied, the first inkling that he had made a mistake coming to him. “Describe him to me” Baranov ordered. Kurshin did. “You say you are looking at him now? Can he see you”
“I don’t think so” Kurshin said. The man had gone again from the window. “No, he is gone now”
“Then hang up the telephone, you idiot. The man you have described is Kirk McGarvey. And since you have already come up against him and are still alive, you may consider yourself extremely lucky”
“But “Get out of there now, Arkasha. We will meet twenty-four hours from now in the usual place. But go before it is too late”
The Soviet Union maintained no embassy in Israel, although they had been one of the first nations to recognize Israel’s legitimacy as a state in 1948. Instead, their affairs were looked after by the Soviet Interests Section of the Hungarian Embassy, a situation that was starting to come apart. For the past seventy-two hours, telephone calls in and out of the embassy had been closely monitored from the King David Hotel a block away. It was early afternoon. The other technicians were taking a break. Abraham Liebowitz, headphones on his ears, looked up as the tape recorder automatically came on. “It’s him again” he said. Lev Potok had been gazing out the window of their seventh-floor suite, thinking about Lorraine Abbott and her meddling.
He turned and hurried over to Liebowitz, taking the headphones from him.
“ … June thirtieth, yes I understand” the same voice as before was saying. He spoke English with a Russian accent. “It is vital now that a very close watch be kept, you understand this”
“ Yes. “We are to be advised of any unusual activity in or around the target facility. Of course you can well understand the need to keep our … friend advised of such happenings”
“Yes” the Russian said. Potok glanced down at the tape machine. The call was outgoing from the embassy. The man giving the instructions was obviously Hungarian. He was at the embassy, the other one was somewhere within the city. Liebowitz was on the other telephone speaking with their technician at the telephone exchange. He looked up. “We have the first three digits” he said. “They are the same as before” Potok nodded. They had picked up half a dozen calls like this one from the embassy to the same voice. So far, however, the calls had been as brief as they had been enigmatic, allowing the telephone people to trace only the first two or three digits of the number being called. “Now more than before this has become an extremely important project to him” the Hungarian said. “Especially after our German failure”
“Yes, I understand this. Everything will be as you ask” the Russian said. Potok held the earphones tighter. What German failure? he wondered. And what was the significance of the date in June? That was barely two weeks away. Liebowitz held up four fingers. The telephone system within Israel used only six digits. They were close now. “If something comes up you will use the normal contact procedures unless it is an emergency, and then you know what to do”
“Certainly” the Russian said. “But there may be others involved now, so we must be very careful”
“We’re well aware of the delicacy, just you be aware of the importance”
Liebowitz held up five fingers. He was grinning. “Enough,’” the Russian said. “I will hang up now. But it is you who must keep me advised of any changes” Hold on, Potok said to himself. “You forget yourself..” the embassy speaker said, but the other one interrupted him. “Don’t tell me my job. If there hadn’t been a failure we would be finished here. Don’t forget your position” The connection was broken. “Damn” Potok swore, yanking the earphones off his head, but Liebowitz was smiling triumphantly, and holding up six fingers. “We’ve got the sonofabitch”
he said. He turned back to the telephone. “Yes, go ahead” he said. He quickly scribbled an address on a pad of paper. “We owe you guys a dinner” he said. “A big dinner”
He hung up, ripping the paper off the pad and handing it to Potok. “It’s an apartment on King David Street not two blocks from here! Second floor in the rear” Potok grabbed his jacket, tore out of the room, and was halfway down the corridor by the time Liebowitz came running after him.
The elevator was on the ground floor so they took the stairs, pounding down them two at a time. On the ground floor they turned right and raced out to the rear parking lot” drive potok ordered, jumping in on the passenger side. He yanked the radio handset from its hook as Liebowitz got in behind the wheel, started the engine, and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. “Central, this is Cold Shoulder Operation, we need a backup immediately” Potok radioed. He read the address off the paper.
“We’ll have someone there within ten minutes” the radio dispatcher at Mossad’s communications center on Hamara Street in Tel Aviv said. They would probably be sending either local civil police or possibly someone from Knesset Security, but it didn’t matter. Potok wanted backup in case something went wrong. “We’re going in first, so tell them to watch out for us” Potok shouted. “Will do” Traffic was heavy, nevertheless it took Liebowitz just under two minutes to make it to the apartment building where he screeched to a halt half up on the sidewalk. Potok pulled out his gun and entered the building, Liebowitz, his gun drawn, right behind him. An old woman had come out of her ground-floor apartment. “Get back” Potok warned as he headed up the stairs. The woman, startled, stumbled back into her apartment and slammed the door.
Another door slammed upstairs and someone came running down the hall.
“Watch out” Potok shouted as he lurched left, flattening himself against the cracked, dirty plaster wall. Two shots were fired from above, the bullets smacking into the wall just above Liebowitz’s head.
Potok shoved forward and fired three shots in rapid succession. A car horn honked out on the street and someone shouted something from below, and then the apartment building fell silent. “You can either throw down your gun right now, or come out of here feet first” Potok shouted. “But you’re not getting away. He glanced back at Liebowitz crouched below him on the stairs. After a moment he nodded, and girding himself leapt up the last few
