But I'm protecting the interests of my country, of course.'
The young man's candor was an unveiled threat. 'I see,' Harry said
warily. 'I also note that we have a mutual friend,' he observed, trying
to shift the focus away from himself. I In the foyer Klaus turned
deathly pale.
'Yes,' Rykov agreed, giving Klaus a predatory I glance.
'This is proving to be an enlightening evening. Take his gun, Andrei.
No foolish heroics please, Klaus. It's not your style.'
The East German slumped against the foyer wall, his pistol hanging
slack. He looked broken, already resigned to the grisly fate that
undoubtedly awaited him in Moscow. Corporal Andrei Ivanov moved to
disarm him.
'As you can see, Major,' Rykov continued, 'you've stumbled upon us at a
most inopportune time. I'll certainly speak to my superiors about it,
but I suspect that your unfortunate timing may cost you your life-'
Before Andrei could reach the unfortunate Klaus, the East German raised
the Makarov to his own temple and fired.
The sheer madness of the act stunned everyone, causing a moment of
confusion. In desperation Harry bolted for the door. He had his
fingers on the brass door handle when someone peppered the wall beside
him with a burst from a silenced machine pistol.
'Don't move, Major!' Captain Rykov ordered, his voice strained but
even.
Harry let his fingers fall from the handle. He turned around slowly. In
the time it had taken him to reach the door, the Russians behind him had
been transformed from a quiet group of social acquaintances into a squad
of paramilitary soldiers moving in concert to control the unexpected
emergency. Two men knelt over Klaus's body, checking for signs of life;
two others covered the front and rear windows of the house.
Rykov issued orders.
'Yuri, get the car. Major, move back into the room. Now!'
Rykov tapped the shoulder of a young man leaning over Klaus's corpse.
'Leave him, Andrei. Touch nothing. Klaus was a traitor; he deserved a
coward's death. Leave the gun in his hand. We couldn't have set this
up better ourselves.'
'Shouldn't we take him along?' Andrei asked. 'The Kriminalpolizei
aren't stupid.'
Rykov's eyes gleamed. 'Ideally, I suppose. But we won't have room for
him.'
'What about the weapons compartment?'
'The major will be in there.' Rykov turned to Harry.
You don't want to spend the next hour hugging a corpse, do you, Major?'
Harry's mind raced. If this Russian intended to kidnap an American army
officer from the heart of tightly controlled West Berlin, something very
big indeed was going on. And to Harry's mind, that something could only
be the events at Spandau Prison.
'Kosov won't like this,' he said, remembering seeing the Russian colonel
at Abschnitt 53 this morning. 'You better take some time to think,
Captain.'
Rykov smiled. 'You're very clever, Major.'
The sound of an engine rumbled through the front door.
'That's Yuri,' said Rykov. 'All right, Major, let's go.'
Harry didn't move.
'Conscious or unconscious, I don't care. But I must tell you, it's
never quite as clean as the movies when you bash someone in the back of
the head with a pistol.'
Harry moved. He couldn't warn Colonel Rose if he was dead.
It was only a few steps from the front door to the car, a black Mercedes
190. The Russians crowded close around him all the way.
There's got to be a way out, thought Harry.
Got to be. I've got to warnDmitri Rykov slammed the butt of his
Skorpion machine pistol into the base of Harry's skull. He heard a dull
thud but no crunch. 'Americans are so gullible,' he said, laughing.
'Lucky for this one he has a wooden head.'
Corporal Ivanov looked distressed. 'Are you sure we shouldn't just kill
him here?' he said anxiously. 'Make it look like some illegal
business, perhaps a homosexual tryst?'
'I'm in command here,' Rykov snapped, losing a bit of his earlier
control. 'I'll do the thinking.'
'Yes, sir. I was only thinking of Colonel Kosov. If he doesn't
approve-'
'I know what Kosov wants, Corporal. Did he not choose me for command?
We may need this American later as a bargaining chip.'
Rykov's voice softened. 'Andrei, the other team is running down
Sergeant Apfel's wife as we speak.
Kosov is with them. Do you want us to return to East Berlin
empty-handed?'
Ivanov did not look entirely convinced, but he said no more.
Lying half-conscious at their feet, Harry slipped a hand into his inside
coat pocket, fished out a white business card, and let it fall.
There was no name on it-only a telephone number. As the Russians lifted
him into the Mercedes, he glanced down. He saw his own blood, but the
white card had already vanished against the snow.
10.31 Pm. LieLzensee Park, British Sector
'Once again,' Ivan Kosov said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
'Where did the girl get out?'
Pressed into the corner of the taxi's rear seat, Eva Beers scowled and
said nothing. Her hands were tied behind her head with her own
stockings. The young Russian called Misha had twice smashed her right
cheek with his gloved fist, but so far Eva had refused to speak.
'Misha,' Kosov growled.
The interior of the taxi echoed with the force of the third blow.
A large purplish bruise was already visible beneath the thick patina of
makeup Eva wore. In 'the front seat beside Kosov, Ernst the cabbie
slumped unconscious over the wheel of his old Mercedes.
'I have no time for your stupid loyalty, woman,' Kosov said. 'If you
don't answer this time, this zealous young man will have to slit the
throat of your sleepy old hero. You don't want that, do you?'
Misha drew a long-bladed stiletto from an ankle sheath and brandished it
