around in your backyard, but solo's no way to flY On something like
this. You get me?'
Schneider nodded, but as his broad back disappeared through the office
door, Rose wondered how sincere the gesture really was.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
612 P.M. SOViOt Sector. EB$t Berlin, ODR In a black BMW parked two
blocks from the red-and-white border posts of the Sonnenallee
checkpoint, Colonel Ivan Kosov sat in silent rage while a man in a
two-thousand dollar Savile Row suit berated him for blatant incompetence.
The man was Yuri Borodin, himself a colonel and one of the brightest
stars of the Twelfth Department of the First Chief Directorate of the
KGB. Kosov hated everything about Borodin-his undisguised arrogance,
his hand-tailored clothing, his aristocratic family background and
manner of speech, his meteoric rise to high rank@everything. It made the
situation all the more difficult to bear.
'So you think your men can handle a simple surveillance job?'
Borodin asked coldly.
'Da, ' Kosov grunted.
Borodin looked out of the car window distractedly. 'I'm afraid I do not
share your faith. Major Richardson will go to U.S. Army Headquarters
for debriefing, then he'll move.
Wherever he goes, that is where the missing Polizei officers and your
Spandau papers are. If indeed papers are what the young German found.
If it is papers, I'd, bet my career that the Americans have them
already.'
I hope you do, thought Kosov 'What makes you think the Americans have
caught them?''he asked. 'And what makes you think Major fiichardson was
even working on the Spandau case when my men captured him?'
Borodin switched to an upper-class English accent. 'Instinct, old boy,'
he said primly.
Kosov wrinkled his lip in disgust. 'You sound like an Oxford professor
with a pipe stuck up his ass.'
'And how would you know what an Oxford professor sounds like?'
Borodin needled. 'I'm just practicing the King's English, Comrade.
I'll probably be needing it in the next few days.'
Someone tapped on the smoked-glass window on the driver's side of the
BMW. Kosov cranked down the window.
Captain Dmitri Rykov stuck his head into the window.
'They've taken him to U.S. headquarters,' Rykov informed them, eyeing
Borodin with curiosity.
'I'll be off, then,' Borodin said lightly.
'Where are you going?' asked Kosov.
'To pick up Major Richardson when he leaves army headquarters.
You don't really think I trust your chaps to stay on him, do you?
No offense intended, of course.'
'But how will you get there?'
Borodin smiled. 'In this car, of course.'
'But this is my personal car!' Kosov exploded.
'Now, now, Comrade,' Borodin said. 'Relax. This car belongs to the
people, doesn't it? I need a car-this one's available. You'll get it
back eventually. Now, out of the car.
I must be on my way.'
Koso hauled himself out of the vehicle and slammed the v d door behind
him. Borodin didn't even notice. He roared up to the checkpoint, not
the slightest bit nervous about his false papers.
Borodin was Twelfth Department, and Twelfth Department always got the
best.
Dmitri Rykov stared dumbfounded at his superior. He had never seen Ivan
Kosov allow someone to run roughshod over him like that.
'Who was that man, Colonel?'
Kosov stared after his receding BMW. 'Someone you will get to know very
well in the next few days, Dmitri.' He turned to Rykov.
'You still have your travel papers?'
'Yes, Comrade Colonel.'
'Good. I want you to cross into the American sector and go to U.S. Army
Headquarters. There you will find the man you just saw steal my BMW.
you're to follow him and report his every movement back to me.
Do you have any credit cards?'
Rykov nodded with enthusiasm'American Express?'
'Gold Card.'
Kosov scowled. 'Captain Rykov, I am authorizing you to spend whatever
is necessary to follow that man wherever he goes.'
'Yes, sir!'
'Anywhere in the world,' Kosov added.
Rykov's chest swelled as he absorbed the import of Kosov's words.
This had to be something big. Something that could make a career.
'His name,' said Kosov quietly, 'is Yuri Borodin. He's a colonel in the
Twelfth Department.'
Rykov paled.
'Do you wish me to find someone else, Captain?'
Rykov cleared his throat. 'Nyet, Comrade Colonel. Dmitri Rykov is your
man.'
'Then get your ass over to the checkpoint and find out what cover
Borodin used to cross. I'll call a car for you.'
Kosov laid a hand on Rykov's shoulder. 'Keep your eyes open for someone
named Zinoviev. He's either a very old man or a very dead one.
Call me as often as you can. I'll have more information on Borodin for
you.'
'Thank you, Comrade Colonel!'
'And Dmitri ... about that tattoo. The eye on Goltz'shead.'
Kosov lowered his voice. 'It is the symbol of a oneeyed man. I don't
know his name, but whoever he is, he's at the center of this case. The
Americans don't know anything about him, and I don't think Borodin does
either. So if you happen to meet a man with one eye-a glass eye, or
even a patch-you are to call me immediately. If you.
even hear of a one-eyed man involved with this case, you call me.'
Rykov looked confused, but he nodded.
'Now go!
Ignoring his bruised leg, Rykov sprinted after the BMW.
