recruiting quietly all over the Iron Curtain territory, trying to latch on to some defectors. And they don’t want them for just propaganda reasons. They need them to teach English, to do broadcasts, to check translations—all the little onerous tasks that need the attention of the native-born American.
“Now suppose they see the chance to pick up a couple of well-educated guys who have defected to Russia, whose defection has been kept under wraps by both Moscow and Washington, and who just happen to have worked in one of the code sections of the National Security Agency.
“You can almost see the ‘tilt’ sign light up in their minds. One: they can parade them around as real live defectors who’ve seen the true Holy Grail rising out of the mists of the Yangtze. It might take a little therapy, but that they’ve proved they can do. Two: they get all the code stuff that Burchwood and Symmes know. It might be a little out of date, a little old, but it’s better than nothing, and you can bet that there’s been no trade-off between Moscow and Peiping. Third—and this is the real gem: they’ve got a two-edged propaganda device going for them. Two National Security Agency employees get fed up with the U.S. and defect to China. If the Moscow flacks send up the cry that they had them first, then the Chinese come back with the charge that it’s a double defection: first from the home-grown imperialism of the U.S. and then from the deviationist brand of the backsliding Muscovites. After they’ve milked Burchwood and Symmes dry of their propaganda value and their knowledge of NSA, they can put them to work teaching English to an advanced kindergarten or being Shanghai Sam, disc jockey for the Marines in Vietnam.”
“You draw a nice clear picture in the center,” I said, “but it’s fuzzy around the edges. For instance, how did Cooky get on stage?”
“Cook was a KGB patsy. No money, no beliefs, just blackmail. Maas knew this, and when he missed out on me he went to Cook and sold him the information about the trade. Cook checked in with his resident in Bonn and told him what he had. The resident told him to tag along through you. The problem then came up about how to get you to get Cook to Berlin. The KGB called in Maas and he came up with the tunnel and the idea of five thousand dollars cash ante. So Maas was double-agenting. His main job was to get me to spirit Symmes and Burchwood over the wall for Jimmy Ku. But the KGB called him in to work on you so that you’d call Cook to Berlin with the five grand. Where else would you get that much money on short notice? The Russians were depending on Cook and his fast draw to keep the thing from going too far. Then they’d have Burchwood and Symmes
“When did you figure all this out?” I asked.
“When I saw Jimmy come through that door a few minutes ago. Most of it anyway.”
“Pass the bottle,” I said. He passed it and I took a swallow and offered the bottle to Burchwood and Symmes, but they declined. Politely this time.
“Wasn’t the KGB a trifle suspicious of Maas since he had sold the information about you and the trade to Cooky?”
“They would have been—if Cook had told them where he’d bought it. But he didn’t. Or they’d have never used Maas. Cook was being threatened. He hadn’t been producing anything; he’d been drinking too much. This was a chance for him to play big shot. So he paid Maas for the information that Maas wanted him to have anyway. And from there on you and I and Max and poor old Weatherby started raking the chestnuts out of the coals.”
“I wonder if Ku knows about Maas and his various deals. Our fat friend could very well hand us over and then trot up the road aways and blow the whistle on Ku to the Russians.”
“I seriously doubt that Jimmy’s going to let Maas off the barge until it’s tied up alongside some freighter in Amsterdam. Like I said, Jimmy’s no dope.”
“You don’t figure Maas has worked for our side yet—providing we still have a side left?”
Padillo frowned. “That’s what was bothering me at Frankfurt. I thought they’d have met us there. In fact, I was toying with the idea of just driving on down to the I.G. Farben building and dumping the whole thing in their laps. Maybe the uniforms and the make-up really did fool them. Maybe they still think we’re in East Berlin and they’re waiting for us to come back through Checkpoint Charlie. Don’t forget: we came under the wall at five o'clock this morning. The only people who know we made it are the guy who owned the house and the tunnel—and he’s dead —plus Wolgemuth’s people—and they’re not saying anything. I owe them too much money.”
I lighted another cigarette and leaned back against the wall. My stomach still hurt, but the Dutch gin was helping. “I hate to give up so close to home,” I said. “If we could find a taxi we could be sitting at the bar in fifteen minutes with a couple of tall cold ones while we counted the day’s receipts.”
“That’s a nice thought.”
“It’s the only one I’ve had lately. You have a plan, of course.”
Padillo rubbed a palm across his forehead wearily. He held his hand out straight in front of him and looked at it carefully. It shook. “I’m in lousy shape. I think a couple of ribs are cracked. But you’re wrong. I haven’t any plan— just an idea or two—and we’ll need some help.”
He looked at Symmes and Burchwood. “How does China sound to you two?”
“What do you expect us to say?” Burchwood said. “Peachy keen?”
“They do that brainwashing,” Symmes said. “We heard all about that in Moscow. They turn you into zombies.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Padillo said. “You’d just have to make a few speeches, a few tape recordings. Tell them what you remember about NSA, and then they’d give you a job. Teaching, probably.”
“No, thank you,” Symmes said.
“How do you expect to avoid it?”
“You got us into this mess; you can just get us out of it. We’re your responsibility,” Burchwood said.
Padillo studied them for a moment. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind?”
“You help McCorkle and me, and if we get off this tub, all bets are off. You can go wherever you want. The Russian Embassy’s about a mile from here. You can ask for political asylum. Of course, they offered to trade you for me and you might prove just a little embarrassing for them, but that’s your risk. Or you can turn yourselves in and I’ll do what I can. It would be a kind of blackmail, but I think our side might pay. They’d almost have to.”
