“What’s happening about the people watching my place, Yuri?”
“You just carry on as usual, comrade. Keep your operation going until you’re told otherwise.”
“Have you found out anything about the CIA man, Nolan?”
“We’ve got a file on Nolan. I’ll be dealing with him eventually. But first we want to see what he’s doing. They know something. Maybe not much, but we’ll deal with him. I’ve got a full team on the operation now.”
“Is there any indication of how they got on to us? Why they were watching my place?”
“No. It doesn’t matter. They’re trying to find out anything they can. If they knew anything they wouldn’t be running around in New York and Hartford.”
“Are they watching Dempsey?”
“We’ve had no reports that indicate that. The Washington team are taking care of Dempsey.”
“Is it safe for me to carry on as usual?”
“We’ll make it safe, comrade. You do your part. I will do mine.”
Kleppe returned to his apartment cold and dispirited. Katin and his men were the “heavies,” despised by most high-grade agents but attached to all legal outposts like consulates, embassies and trade missions. Expert at breaking and entering, kidnapping and murder. He wondered who had talked. He couldn’t believe that it was Dempsey. He wondered if Dempsey had gone too far with Powell.
He reached for the telephone and dialled Jenny’s number. It was several minutes before she answered. She was obviously not alone but she mentioned the name of a Washington hotel. He checked with the inquiries operator and got through to the hotel switchboard. They said that Mr. Dempsey was not taking calls, and Kleppe left a brief code message for him to ring “Department 31” in New York.
Dempsey called twenty minutes later from a public callbox.
“Why the code, Viktor?”
“Forget it.” His voice was sharp and tense.
“OK. What is it?”
“I need to see you urgently.”
“It’s going to be difficult. Can you come here?”
“That’s impossible.”
“I’ll come up and see Jenny. About eleven tomorrow night.”
“OK. How are things?”
“Fine. You sound worried. What’s the problem?”
“No problem. I’m just screwed out from travelling.”
“Good. See you.”
“OK.”
Kleppe walked to the girl’s apartment on 38th. Dempsey was already there and Kleppe handed him the envelope from Moscow. He saw Dempsey hesitate for a moment and then slip it in his pocket.
Jenny poured them drinks and went to her room.
“How are things with Powell?”
Dempsey shrugged. “He’s beginning to get the message. He knows the score and I’m not pressing him. There’s no need. He’ll cooperate. I laid it on the line. It’s made him uneasy with me but that’ll wear off. He loves the whole damn thing like a kid in a toy shop. Spent two hours this afternoon reading IRS and FBI reports on friends and enemies. He’s flying down to LA tomorrow in Air Force One.”
“What’s he doing down there?”
Dempsey smiled knowingly. “Putting in a pre-emptive word with the company chiefs who’ll lose defence contracts. Handsome compensation and prefabricated housing contracts instead.”
“Moscow will give contracts for modular housing as soon as you say the word.”
“All in good time, Viktor. Let the dust settle first.”
“Who’s he picking for the senior appointments?”
Dempsey went over the list and gave background details on all of them. Dempsey was not attempting to influence any appointments. In the short term they didn’t matter and in the long term a lot could happen.
Dempsey poured more drinks and took off his jacket. As he leaned back comfortably in his chair he laughed.
“You know, if Powell co-operates on all these points he’s going to have Moscow’s ear direct. They won’t need us.”
Kleppe shrugged. “So what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is that we shall be the only people who know everything that’s gone on. Powell will know that, and Moscow knows it, too.”
Kleppe’s head came up slowly and he swirled his drink around before he looked at Dempsey.
“And?”
“And we shall not only be superfluous but an embarrassment.”
Kleppe had already worked out that equation months ago, and it disturbed him even more that Dempsey found it an obvious solution. Yuri Katin would enjoy solving that little problem. He reached forward and switched on the TV. The newsreader was covering a homicide on the Staten Island ferry and moved on to the Traffic Commissioner’s warning about dangerous road conditions on all roads out of the city. Kleppe was just reaching forward to switch off when the newsreader’s eyes went from the teleprinter to a note that had been slid along the desk. With his eyes down he read the item.
“We have just received reports of a double killing in Hartford, Connecticut, late last night. A retired union official and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Siwecki, and a secretary who was employed in the District Attorney’s office all died from gunshot wounds.” The announcer looked up to the camera. “We have no further details at this moment. The weather tomorrow is expected to be the same mixture of snow and …”
“For Christ’s sake, Viktor. What’s going on?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Siwecki was the union negotiator at the strike at the Haig plant way back.”
“Who’s the girl?”
“How in hell should I know?”
“Maybe it’s some union fight.”
“Don’t shit me, Viktor.”
“I’m not, Andy. I’ve no idea what it’s all about. Phone your contacts down there and check it out.”
“No way, my friend.” He looked intently at Kleppe’s face. “If this is you, Viktor, or your people, then they’re crazy.”
“Why should I do that? Give me a reason.”
Dempsey sighed. “I couldn’t, but some of those goons of yours at the UN don’t need reasons.”
After Kleppe had gone Dempsey took out the envelope and looked at it. It was ten minutes before he tore it open. He read it slowly.
There were two pages in that big, childish handwriting, with small circles instead of dots over the i’s. And as always she wrote in French, the only language they had in common.
Cher Andy,
Your lovely letter came last month and I’ve read it a thousand times. I am back from Leningrad. They gave me an exhibition
