Cold War Trilogy - A Three Book Boxed Set: of Historical Spy Versus Spy Action Adventure Thrillers

by William Brown

  When the bastards finally let him out of jail this morning, he went to the Embassy, but the guards would not let him in, much less let him talk to anyone. Doris finally came to the door and told him he had better cool his jets for a week or two before he came back. He rented a car and drove out to Heliopolis, but the old RAF base was completely deserted. The gate hung open, unattended. Even the aircraft hangar was empty. The reviewing stand was gone, and the swirling desert sand had already begun covering all traces of what had happened out there. He drove to the bungalow that she and her father had shared, but it was as empty and deserted as the rest of the base. The furniture, the stacks of papers and reports in the living room, the photographs on the wall, and the geraniums on the window ledge were gone. So was Ilsa. She was nowhere to be found. He tried the German Embassy; but all he got from them was a stiff, official silence.

  Like a homing pigeon with nowhere else to go, Thomson turned toward Jeremy’s bar, and did the two things he swore he would never do again. He ordered a gin, and he began to feel sorry for himself again. He sat staring at the glass, watching the ice melt as the front door opened and the late afternoon sun spilled into the empty room. A thin, dark-skinned man stood in the entry leaning on an ebony cane as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The man’s face was hidden in the shadows, but Thomson immediately knew who it was.

  “Oh, Lord,” he heard Jeremy mutter. “You got company, Thomson. Be a good bloke now, and leave me out of it this time.”

  Saleh wore his usual immaculate white linen suit, but the jacket was draped awkwardly over his shoulders, and his left arm hung in a black sling. His head was no longer wrapped in bandages, but he looked pale and weak as he stood in the doorway, his eyes finally focusing on Thomson. The Egyptian leaned heavily on his cane, limping even worse than before. As he took his first halting steps across the room, his face appeared to be drawn equally with pain and determination. When he finally reached Thomson’s rear table, Saleh pulled out a chair and almost collapsed in it, too weary to attempt to be graceful.

  The little man turned and looked slowly around the barroom. “You said you would see me in Hell, Mister Thomson. Well, it appears you were right.”

  “I’d say we’ve both been there and back, Captain,” Thomson answered, “I’d buy you a drink, but you don’t use the stuff, do you?”

  Saleh turned toward Jeremy and called out, “Scotch — your best single malt, three fingers and neat, if you please, Mister Throckmorton.” As he looked back at Thomson with a thin smile. “Not all of us take our religion that seriously. I would have thought you would have known that by now.”

  Thomson looked across the table and waited, but Saleh added nothing more. Finally, the American shook his head, getting angry. “I don’t understand you. I really don’t. Why did you come in here, anyway? To gloat?”

  Saleh frowned. “No, not at all. I came here to thank you for your assistance,” he said simply and eloquently. “Without it, this would be a far different nation today, and a far different world, I am afraid. Ali Rashid’s plan came very close to succeeding. Without you risking your life for us many times over, it would have.”

  “Well,” Thomson leaned forward, barely keeping his anger and his mouth under control. “If I’m such a goddamned ‘national hero’ why’d you keep me locked up in that stinking dungeon of yours for two weeks?”

  “Ah, only one week,” Saleh raised a finger, insistent on correcting him. “You were only detained for one week. The first week was purely for medical reasons.”

  “Medical reasons? They beat the crap out of me!”

  “Perhaps, but things were very confused during those first few days. I was quite incapacitated myself and in no condition to help correct matters regarding your status.”

  “Because they beat the crap out of you, too!”

  “I must correct you. That was done by a treasonous element, Mister Thomson.”

  “It was your own sergeant and the head of State Security!”

  “Acting outside the law,” Saleh corrected him again. “It was a very confusing time for the government. That is why you and some of the other foreigners remained in jail until things could be ‘sorted out.’ However, once I was able to speak with the President, he gave very strict orders that you were to be treated well. After all, I could not permit you to leave the country before I had a chance to speak with you, could I?”

  Thomson stared across at him, and then shook his head. “All right, so speak.”

  “I am. I had a personal and professional obligation to thank you, which is what I am doing — for myself and for the President.”

  That was when Jeremy edged up to the table and carefully set the drinks down. “I, uh… I don’t suppose you remember me, Captain?”

  “Of course I do, Mister Throckmorton, and I must thank you for your help, as well. It was not quite as essential as the help I received from Mister Thomson here, but it was help nonetheless; and the Egyptian people and their government owe you a sincere debt of gratitude.”

  Jeremy stared down at Saleh with his mouth hanging open and his ears straining to hear the punch line that never came. There were many things he expected from an Egyptian cop, but a “debt of gratitude” was not one of them. “Well, uh, I’m pleased, to be sure,” he managed to reply as he backed away, not knowing what to make of it all.

  Saleh sat back and looked across the table at Thomson. “Questions?” he asked.

  “No,” Thomson demanded, “I want answers.”

  “Ah, answers. Well, it is my belief that these past few weeks were a minor exercise in nation-building. It has forced us to undertake certain — realignments within our civilian government and our military command structure.”

  “What about the two nukes?”

  “Nukes? Nuclear weapons? Well, if you are referring to what I think you are referring to, then you must agree that such a thing never happened.”

  “Never happened? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Stop and think about it, about the danger and the people involved. In the end, you must agree that complete denial is the only possible option.”

  “Oh, cut the crap. Just tell me what happened.”

  Saleh looked at him and shrugged. “You forget that at the time, I was not in the best condition myself. I am told that the rocket you destroyed scattered itself, along with a thousand little chunks of radioactive material, across a desolate area of the southern Sinai complete with snakes, scorpions, and burning bushes in their day — no great loss there. That said, your government secured the prompt and rather expensive assistance of the West German government to clean it all up and pay for it, not that Washington did not have a large share of the guilt to atone for as well.”

  “Kilbride?”

  “It never ceases to amaze the rest of the world that your government rewards minor political hacks with major diplomatic posts. Had he been posted to Dublin, Ulan Bator, or Guatemala City, it would not have made much difference, but the Middle East. What hubris! After we declared him persona non grata, I was surprised your State Department did not send him to the Sinai with the Germans and a dust broom.” The corners of Saleh’s mouth curled into a faint smile as he considered the thought. That was the second time Thomson had caught him in a smile. “With your help and the grace of god, the other rocket did not fire.”

  “You can thank Ilsa Fengler for that. She was the one who stopped them.”

  “So I heard. We had the second warhead dismantled. We shall keep the rocket, but conventional weapons are quite sufficient for our needs at the present.”

  “Where is she? I can’t find her anywhere.” Thomson asked, trying not to sound anxious.

  “Ah, the Fengler girl. Nasser’s first thought was to have all the foreigners shot — including you — but that tends to depress the market for foreign labor and would have attracted far too much unwanted attention. After I had an opportunity to speak with him, it was decided to deport you all, instead. The West Germans refused to accept
any of the scientists or former military. Quite understandable, since many of them are wanted for war crimes.”

  “You should have given them to the Israelis.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Saleh reflected, “but not terribly practical given the current climate. So we put them on a charter flight for Paraguay, and said ‘good riddance.’ I believe they have friends there.”

  “Saleh, where is Ilsa?”

  “She actually came to see me while I was in the hospital. She brought me a potted geranium. A lovely young woman.”

  “Saleh!”

  “Yes, to the point, the West German government had no problems with her or the other dependents, so she left last week for Frankfurt. She seemed very anxious to get as far away from her father and the rest of his ilk as she could, so it was a logical choice for her.”

  “You bastard…”

  “Can’t you sit and listen for a moment, Mister Thomson?” Saleh glared. “You are the most exasperating man I have ever met.”

  Thomson glared back but held his tongue this time.

  “I remembered that you told me you made a promise to her. I told her that, but it was her desire that you cool your heels for a while and I felt an obligation to respect her wishes.”

  Thomson sat back in his chair, visibly upset and agitated. “Frankfurt — did she say where she was going after that?”

  “She did not. However, anticipating your question, she told me that if by chance you really do want to find her, you would. If not, she said she would understand. She went on to say that surely, ‘the great American spy,’ as she called you, has sufficient wherewithal to find anyone he really wants to find, especially in a nation filled with such precise record keepers as the Germans. ‘If you cannot find me,’ she said, ‘then you are not half as good as you think you are.”

  Thomson nodded with a half smile.

  “In my humble opinion, if you do not go to the ends of the earth to find that young woman, you are a damned fool, Mister Thomson. Then again, perhaps you would prefer to sit here and drink yourself into a stupor.”

  “Actually, I lost my taste for the stuff a couple of weeks ago,” he said as he pushed the glass away. “What about you, Captain? What are you going to do now?” he asked, looking at Saleh’s arm and the sling.

  “Oh, I shall survive.” Saleh smiled. “The last time it was a leg. This time it was the shoulder. As I told you that night we met, I am Bedu. We are a tough people.”

  “So are Nebraskans,” Thomson retorted.

  “Nebraskans? I am not familiar with that nationality; but if that is what you are, then I agree. Yes, you too are tough, Mister Thomson. Initially, I dismissed you far too lightly. I took you for a burned-out alcoholic, a hard case, and an incredibly stupid one at that. That was a serious misjudgment on my part; one of the many I made in that last week. Since you are tough and so resilient, you will understand that I must now order you out of my country. You have twenty-four hours to leave or find yourself back in jail.”

  “What?” Thomson nearly exploded. “What happened to all the thanks?”

  “Those were most sincere, I assure you.” Saleh smiled. “But you must consider all the laws you have trampled on — breaking and entering, grand theft, espionage, destruction of government property, conspiracy, and numerous homicides. Even if I do not count all the dead Germans, which I do not, you are simply too hot a commodity to stay here. To be frank, many of our people think I am letting you off far too lightly with a mere deportation. Gamal agreed with me, however, and that is all that matters.”

  “Since when do the police order foreign nationals out of the country?”

  “Ah, I forgot to tell you.” Saleh seemed almost embarrassed. “The President has appointed me Chief of State Security. As such, I have determined that you know far too much for your own good, and we would prefer that the angry men who will surely come after you do it someplace else instead of in our midst.”

  Thomson looked across the table and started to argue, but Saleh cut him off with a wave of his hand.

  “There is a bright side to this despicable affair, if you will permit me to explain.” Saleh’s eyes sparkled. “I kept you in jail, because I had some arrangements to make, and those took time. When you go back to your embassy now, you will find that your new Ambassador and various government agencies are much more accommodating. In truth, they are terrified of you, as well they should be. I told them you wrote some embarrassing memoirs while you were in jail and that I have a copy. I assured them that if you do not live out a long and prosperous life, those memoirs will find their way to the London Times.”

  “I bet you did.” Thomson tipped his head back and roared with laughter, “and I can imagine the looks on their faces.”

  “Consider it a going-away present, or perhaps a wedding present, but you no longer fit here in Cairo. You are a bad memory we cannot permit to continue to wander about among us. Our wounds are too fresh.”

  Thomson looked at Saleh and nodded, then reached out and picked up his glass. “A final toast then, Captain. Let’s never darken each other’s doorways again. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Saleh said as his face opened in a broad grin. He clinked his glass against Thomson’s and threw the raw whiskey down his throat. “Take care of yourself, Mister Thomson,” he said affectionately as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope, which he laid on the table. “One last gift — an airplane ticket on the morning Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, First Class.”

  “What about Jeremy?” Thomson asked. “Him too?”

  “Oh, Heavens no! There must be at least one place here where we good Muslims can still get a decent scotch in Cairo.” Saleh then rose to his feet and slowly limped away. Thomson watched him go, but the little man never looked back. He reached the door, pushed it open, and stepped out of the bar into the bright sun without another word.

  “Well, don’t that just beat all!” Jeremy said as he stomped over to the table with his hands on his hips. “He’s really sending you packing. Here I thought he was different.”

  “He is, Jeremy; believe me, he is. However, he isn’t like us, either.”

  “Well, I’m going to miss you, Thomson.”

  “But not too much?”

  “Why split hairs, mate?” Jeremy laughed. “I have a goodbye present for you, too. Been working on it for the past ten days now, hoping you’d be back.” He giggled as he sat down in the chair across from Thomson.

  Jeremy shoved the glasses and ashtray aside, giving himself room to draw nine dots with his fingertip on the greasy tabletop. The smudge marks were aligned in three rows of three each, all evenly spaced.

  “Now, my good man, all you have to do is to connect all nine of the little buggers by drawing four straight lines — four, no more, and you can’t lift your finger off the tabletop, either. Four straight lines,” he warned, “so let’s see how bloody bright you are for a change.”

  “Let me get this straight, Jeremy. You are challenging me?” Thomson said as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, giving Jeremy the type of condescending look Thomson usually reserved for eight-year-olds. He glanced down at the tabletop, deigning to give the puzzle a few seconds of his time. Then, he looked at it again and frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he heard Jeremy walking away, laughing to himself.

  ###

  If you enjoyed the read, I would appreciate your going to its Kindle Book Page at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008AMSH00. Click on the words “Customer Reviews” after the Gold Stars, and then on the blue “Write a Customer Review” bar, and click on some stars, and write some comments in the box titled “Write Your Review Here.” It is very easy to do and we humble writers appreciate it.

  In addition, you can visit my web site and learn more about my other novels at http://www.billbrownthrillernovels.com

  by

  William F. Brown

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  WILLIAM F. BROWN

  I’m the author of six mys
tery and international suspense novels with over 850 Kindle Reviews averaging 4.5 Stars.

  Burke’s War, my new smash hit original e-book was released in February, 2015. It is an action-adventure tale of one man’s quest for justice. Think American Sniper meets The Godfather. It has a 4.5 rating on 149 reviews, 89% of which are Five or Four-Stars. The second book in the Burke Series, Burke’s Gamble, will be released in early 2016. Be looking for it.

  The Undertaker, my first e-book, was released in January 2011. It is a snarky, contemporary, domestic thriller with a mix of romance, humor, and stark terror that garnered an Amazon rating of 4.3 on 210 Kindle reviews, 86% of which are Five or Four-Star ratings. Amongst My Enemies, my second e-book, is a fast-paced Cold War tale of action and international suspense that deals with espionage, revenge, and missing art and treasure in the post-war years. It has an Amazon rating of 4.4 on 200 Kindle reviews, 84% are Five or Four-Star Ratings. Thursday at Noon was originally published in hardback as a Joan Kahn Book by St. Martin’s Press and by Harlequin’s Gold Eagle in US paperback and in various foreign editions. It was reviewed favorably in the New Yorker and many other major publications in the US. The Kindle e-book edition has an Amazon rating of 4.4 on 114 Kindle reviews, 87% of which are Five or Four-Star ratings. Winner Lose All is an international suspense novel set in the closing months of WWII, as one war winds down and all eyes turn to the next one. Alliances are shifting and no one is to be trusted. Old enemies become tomorrow’s friends, and everyone wants their piece of the revolutionary new German weapons technology in jet airplanes, rockets, submarines, and munitions. It has an Amazon rating of 4.5 on 124 Kindle reviews, 86% of which are Five or Four-Star ratings. In my most recent, Aim True, My Brothers, Islamist terrorism visits the shores of America as a skilled Hamas commando leader focuses his anger and rage on the US government. Left to stop him is an oddly matched group of a maverick FBI agent, the head of security at the Egyptian Embassy in Washington, and an Israeli counter-terror expert. It has an average 4.8 rating on 51 reviews, 89% of which are Five or Four-Star ratings.