the way they made their living. They were also employees of the Liberian Trust Company. Mr. Chung asked for fifty dollars and cab fare. Dickstein paid him in cash and told him to take the bus. So, without so much as giving an address, Dickstein had created a fully legitimate shipping company which could not be traced back either to him or to the Mossad. Satia, Nugba and Boyd resigned twenty-four hours later, as was the - custom; and that same day the notary public of Montserrado County, Liberia, stamped an affidavit which said lee that total control of the Savile Shipping Corporation now lay in the hands of one Andre Papagopolous. By that time Dickstein was riding the bus from Zurich airport into town, an his way to meet Papagopolous, for lunch. When he had time to reflect on it, even be was shaken by the compleidty of his plan, the number of pieces that had to be made to fit into the jigsaw puzzle, the number of people who had to be persuaded, bribed or coerced into performing their parts. He had been successful so far, first with Stiffcollar and then with Al Cortone, not to mention Uoyd!s of London and Iberian Corporation Services, Inc., but how long could it go on? Papagopolous was in some ways the greatest challenge: a man as elusive, as powerful, and as free of weakness as Dickstein himself. He had been born in 1912 in a village that during his boy hood was variously Turkish, Bulgarian and Greek. His father was a fisherman. In his teenage he graduated from fishing to other kinds of maritime work, mostly smuggling. After World War 11 he turned up In Ethiopia, buying for knock-down prices the piles of surplus military suppliea which had sud denly become worthless when the war ended. He bought rifles, handgans machin e guns, antitank guns and ammuni tion for all of these. He then contacted the Jewish Agency in Cairo and sold the arms at an enormous profit to the under ground Israeli Army. He arranged shipping-and here his smuggling background was invaluable--and delivered the goods to Palestine. Then he asked if they wanted more. This was how he had met Nat Dickstein. He soon moved on, to Farours Cairo and then to Switzerland. His Israeli deals had marked a transition from totally illegal business to dealings which were at worst shady and at best pristine. Now he called himself a ship broker, and that was most, though by no means all, of his business. He had no address. He could be reached via half a dozen telephone numbers all over the world, but he was never there-always, somebody took a message and Papagopolous called you back. Many people knew him and trusted him. especially in the shipping business, for he never let anyone down; but this trust was based on reputation, not personal contact. He lived well but quietly, and Nat Dickstein was one of the few people in the world who knew of his single vice, which was that he liked to go to bed with lots of girls-but lots.- like, ten or twelve. He had no sense of humor. Dickstein got off the bus at the railway station, where Papagopolous was waiting for him on the pavement. He was a big man, olive-skinned with thin dark hair combed over a growing bald patch. On it bright summer day in Zurich he wore a navy blue suit, pale blue shirt and dark blue striped tie. He had small dark eyes. They shook hands. Dickstein said., 'How's business?' 'Up and down.' Papagopolous smiled. 'Mostly UP. Iley walked through the clean, tidy streets, looking like a managing director and his accountant. Dickstein inhaled the cold air, 'I like this town,' he said. 'rve booked a table at the Veltliner Keller in the old city,' Papagopolous said. 'I know you don!t care about food, but 1 do. Dickstein said, 'You've been to the Pelikanstrasse?' 'Yes.' 'Good.' Ile Zurich offize of Liberian Corporation Services, Inc., was in the Pelikanstrasse. Dickstein had asked Papagopolous to go there to register himself as president and chief executive of Savile Shipping. For this he would receive ten thousand U.S. dollars, paid out of Mossad's account in a Swiss bank to Papagopolous's account in the same branch of the same bank-a transaction very difficult for anyone to Uncover. Papagopolous said, 'But I didn't promise to do anything else. You may have wasted your money.' 'rm sure, I didn!t' They reached the restaurant. Dickstein had expected that Papagopolous would be known there, but there was no sign of recognition from the headwaiter, and Dickstein thought: Of course, he's not known anywhere. They ordered food and wine. Dickstein noted with regret that the domestic Swiss white wine was still better than the Israeli. While they att, Dickstein explained Papagopolous's duties as president of Savile Shipping. 'One: buy a small, fast ship, a thousand or fifteen hundred tons, small crew. Register her in Liberia.' This would involve another visit to Pelikanstrasse and a fee of about a dollar per ton. 'For the purchase, take your percentage as a broker. Do some business with the ship, and take your broker's percentage on that I don't care what the ship does so long as she completes a voyage by docking in Haifa on or before October 7. Dismiss the crew at Haifa. Do you want to take notesr Papagopolous smiled. 'I think not.' The implication was not lost on Dickstein. Papagopolous was listening, but he had not yet agreed to do the job. Dickstein continued. 'Irwo: buy any one of the ships on this list' He handed over a single sheet of paper bearing the names of the four sister ships of the Copare it with their owners and last known locations-the information he had gotten from Uoyd!s. 'Offer whatever price is necessary: I must have one of them, Take your brokeespercentage. Deliver her to Haifa by October 7. Dismiss the crew~' Papagopolous was eating chocolate mousse, his smooth face imperturbable. He put down his spoon and put on goldrimmed glasses to read the list He folded the sheet of paper in half and set it on the table without comment Dickstein handed him another sheet of paper. 'IMree: buy this ship-the Copares?l But you must buy her at exactly the right time. She sails from Antwerp on Sunday, November 17. We must buy her alter she sails birt belore she passes through the Strait of Chbraltar.' Papagopolous, looked dubious. kWell . . 'Vait, la me give you the rest of it Four: early in 1969 you sell ship No. 1, the little one, and ship No. 3, the Coparellt. You get from me a certificate showing that ship No. 2 has been sold for scrap. You send that certificate to Lloyd& You wind up Savile, Shipping.' Dickstein smiled and sipped his coffee. 'What you want to do is make a ship disappear without a trace.' Dickstein nodded. Papagopolous was as sharp as a knife. 'As you must realize,' Papagopolous went on, 'all this is .straightforward except for the purchase of the Coparelft while &he is at sea. The normal procedure for the sale of a ship is as follows: negotiations take place, a price is agreed, and the documents are drawn up. The ship goes into dry dock for inspection. When she has been pronounced satisfactory the documents are signed, the money is paid and the new owner takes her out of dry, dock. Buying a ship while she is sailing is most irregular.' 'But not impossible 'No, not impossible.' Dickstein watched him, He became thoughtful, his gaze distant: he was grappling with the problem. It was a good sign. Papagopolous said, 'We would have to open negotiations, agree on the price and have the inspection arranged for a date after her November voyage. Then, when she has sailed, we say that the purchaser needs to spend the money immediately, perhaps for tax reasons. The buyer would then take out insurance against any major repairs which might prove necessary after the inspection . . . but this is not the seller's concern. He is concerned about his reputation as a shipper. He Will want cast-iron guarantees that his cargo will be delivered by the new owner of the Coparelli.' 'Would he accept a guarantee based on your personal reputation?' 'Of course. But why would I give such a guarantee?' Dickstein looked him in the eye. 'I can promise you that the owner of the cargo will not complain.' PapagDpolous made an open-handed gesture. 'it is obvious that you are perpetrating some kind of a swindle here. You need me as a respectable front. That I can do. But you also want me to lay my reputation on the line and take your word that it will not suffer?' 'Yes. Listen. Let me ask you one thing. You trusted the Israelis once before, remember?' 'Of course.' 'Did you ever regret it?' Papagopolous smiled, remembering the old days. 'It was the beat decision I ever made.' 'So, will you trust us againr' Dickstein held his breath. 'I had less to lose in those days. I was ... thirty-five. We used to have a lot of fun. This is the most intriguing offer Irve had in twenty years. What the bell, Ill do it.' Dickstein extended his hand across the restaurant tabl& Papagopolous shook it. A waitrem brought a little bowl of Swiss chocolates for them to eat with their coffee. Papagopolous took one, Dickstein refused.
'Details,' Dickstein said. 'Open an account for Savile Shipping at your bank here. The Embassy will put funds in as they are required. You report to me simply by leaving a written message at the bank. The note will be picked up by someone from the Embassy. If we need to meet and talk, we use the usual phone numbers.' 'Agreed.,' 'I'm glad we're doing business together again.' Papagopolous was thoughtful. 'Ship No. 2 is a sister ship of the Coparelk' he mused. 'I think I can guess what you're up to. Theres one thing I'd like to know, although I'm sure you wont tell me. What the hell kind of cargo will the Coparelli be carrying-uranium?'
Pyotr Tyrin looked gloomily at the CoparelY and said, 'She's a grubby old ship.' Rostov did not reply. Thev were sitting in a rented Ford on a quay at Cardiff docks. The squirrels at Moscow Center had informed them that the Coparelli would make port there today, and they were now watching her tie up. She was to unload a cargo of Swedish timber and take on a mixture of small machinery and cotton goods: it would take her some days. 'At least the mess decks aren't in the fo'c'sle,' Tyrin muttered, more or less to himself. 'She's not that old,' Rostov said. Tyrin was surprised Rostov knew what he was talking about. Rostov continually' surprised him with odd bits of knowledge. From the rear seat of the car Nik Bunin said, 'Is that the front or the back of the boat?' Rostov and Tyrin looked at one another and grinned at Nik's ignorance. 'Me back,' Tyrin said. 'We call it the stem' It was raining. The Welsh rain was even more persistent and monotonous than the English, and colder. Pyotr Tyrin was unhappy. It so happened that he had done two years in the Soviet Navy. Tbat, plus the fact that he was the radio and electronics expert, made him the obvious choice as the man to be planted aboard the Copareffl. He did not want to go back to sea. In truth, the main reason he had applied to Join the KOB was to get out of the navy. He
