The Daleth Effect

Oster-brogade a few minutes later he walked close behind another man who was also carrying books. The other turned right, but he turned left, and walked stolidly past Garnisons churchyard and on to the Osterport subway station.

Inside the station he made use of almost all of the facilities, one after another. He bought a newspaper at the kiosk by the entrance, turning about and looking over the top of it to see who came in after him. He went to the toilet at the far end. He checked the books and the newspaper into an automat locker and pocketed the key. He went down one staircase to the trains and, although it was against the law to cross the tracks, managed to come up some time later by way of a different staircase. This appeared to be thirsty work and he finally had a glass of draft Carlsberg from the luncheonette, standing up and drinking it at one of the chest-high tables. All of these actions appeared to have accomplished what they had been designed to do because, after wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand, he emerged from the rear entrance of the station and walked briskly down Ostbanegade, next to the tracks where they emerged from the tunnel into the watery winter sunshine. At the first corner he turned left and walked down along the other side of the churchyard. He was alone in the street.

When he was positive of this he turned about smartly and walked through the open, high wrought-iron gates and into the Soviet embassy.

6. The Baltic

“Ja, Ja,” Captain Nils Hansen said into the telephone, “jeg skal nok tale med hende. Tak for det.” He sat, tapping his fingers against the phone while he waited. The man who had identified himself only as Skou stood looking out of the window at the gray, wintry afternoon. There was the distant banshee scream of jets as one of the big planes taxied in from the runway.

“Hello, Martha,” Nils continued in English. “How is.

everything? Fine. No, I’m at Kastrup, just set down a little while ago. A nice tail wind out of Athens, brought us in early. And that’s the trouble, I’m going right out again…” He nodded agreement with the voice that rustled in his ear, looking more than a little unhappy.

“Listen, darling, you are completely correct and I couldn ⁹t agree more—but there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. The powers that be have willed otherwise. I can’t fly, too many hours, but they can fly me. One of the pilots—a Swede, what else?—is down with appendicitis in Calcutta. I’m going out on the next flight, in fact they are holding it for me right now, and I’ll sleep and get another night’s sleep at the Oberoi Grand, so I’ll be able to take his flight out tomorrow. Right… Nearer forty-eight hours I would say. I am as sorry to miss the dinner as you are and please tell the Overgaards that I am crying because I shall miss her dyresteg and instead of fine Scandinavian venison I shall be eating gut-rotting curries and will suffer for a week. Of course, skat, I’ll miss you too and I’ll make them pay me a bonus and I’ll buy you something nice with it. Yes… okay… good-bye.”

Nils hung up and looked with open dislike at Skou’s turned back. “I don’t enjoy lying to my wife,” he said.

“I’m very sorry, Captain Hansen, but it cannot be avoided. A matter of security, you know. Take precautions today and tomorrow takes care of itself.” He looked at his watch. “The Calcutta plane is just leaving, and you are listed as being aboard. You are registered at the Calcutta hotel, though you will not be able to receive phone calls. Everything has been arranged with the utmost detail. The ruse is a necessary but harmless one.”

“Necessary for what? You appear out of nowhere, take me to this office, show me letters with big names on them requesting my service, including one from my commander in the Air Force Reserve, extract my promise to cooperate, induce me to lie to my wife—but really tell me nothing. What the devil is going on?”

Skou nodded seriously, looked around the room as if it were lined with countless eavesdropping bugs, and did everything but put his finger to his lips: he radiated secrecy.

“If I could tell you I would. I cannot. Within a very short time you will know all about it Now—can we leave? I’ll take your bag.”

Nils grabbed it up before the other could touch it and stood, jamming his uniform cap onto his head. He was six feet four inches tall in stockinged feet: now, in uniform, cap, and belted raincoat, he loomed large enough to fill the small room. Skou opened the door and Nils stamped out after him. They exited through the back door of the operations building where a cab was waiting for them, a Mercedes diesel hammering and throbbing while its engine idled. As soon as they had entered the driver put down his flag and started, without instructions. When they left the airport they turned right, away from Kastrup.

“That’s interesting,” Nils said, looking out of the window, the scowl now vanished from his face. He could never stay angry very long. “Instead of going to Kobenhavn, and the exciting world beyond, we head south on this little pool table of a potato-growing island. What can we possibly find of interest in this direction?”

Skou reached over into the front seat and took up a black topcoat and a dark beret. “Would you be so kind as to take off your uniform coat and cap and put these on. I am sure that your trousers will not be identified with an SAS uniform.”

“Cloak and dagger, by God,” Nils said, struggling out of his coat in the cramped back seat. “I suppose this good and honest cab driver is in on the whole thing?”

“Of course.”

The capacious front seat now yielded up a small suitcase just large enough for the discarded coat and cap. Nils pulled the collar of his new coat up, pulled the beret down over his eyes and buried his big chin in the collar.

“There, do I look conspiratorial enough now?” He could not stop himself from grinning. Skou did not share his humor.

“I’ll ask you, please, not to do anything that will draw attention to us. This is a very important matter, I c you that much.”

“I’m sure of it.”

They rode in silence after that, through a drab landscape of freshly plowed fields waiting for the spring sowing. It was a short drive to the fishing village of Dragor, and Nils looked suspiciously at the old red-brick buildings as they passed. They did not stop, but continued on to the harbor.

“Sweden?” Nils asked. “Aboard the car ferry?”

Skou did not trouble himself to answer, and they drove right by the ferry slip to the small harbor. A few pleasure craft were tied up here, including a fair-sized inboard launch.

“If you will follow me, please,” Skou said, and grabbed Nils’s bag before he could get it himself. He led the way out on the dock, carrying both bags. Nils followed meekly after, wondering just what the hell he was getting into. Skou climbed aboard the launch and put the bags into the cabin, then waved Nils aboard. The man at the wheel appeared to ignore all this, but he did start the engine.

“I’ll say good-bye, then,” Skou said, “I think it will be most comfortable traveling in the cabin.”

“Traveling where?”

Skou left without answering and began to untie the mooring lines. Nils shrugged, then bent over to get through the low cabin door. He dropped onto the bench inside and discovered, tardily because of the dim light that filtered through the small portholes, that he was not alone.

“Good afternoon,” he said to the muffled figure on the far end of the other bench, and received a noncommittal answer in return. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that there was a suitcase at the other man’s feet and that he was wearing a black coat and dark beret.

“How about that,” Nils laughed. “Looks like they caught you too. We’re wearing the same uniform.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the other said testily, pulling off the beret and jamming it into his pocket Nils moved along the bench to sit opposite him.

“Oh yes you do. That Skou with his mysterious ways. Very little imagination though when it comes to disguise. I’ll bet you were drafted for a secret job in a big hurry and rushed over here.”

“How do you know that?” the other asked, sitting up.

“Instinct.” Nils pulled off his beret and pointed to it—then looked closer at the other man’s face. “Don’t I