by Glenn Meade
Massey thought for a moment. “I’d say Lebel will hold out as long as he can. He’s no fool, and he’ll probably try to deny everything at first. But considering the way the KGB have refined the art of torture, I wouldn’t expect that to be for more than a couple of days, maybe a little more.”
Allen Dulles was wiping his glasses when he looked up slowly. “It strikes me that if Lebel can be counted on to hold out, that gives us time, and maybe a way out of this mess.”
“How?” asked Eisenhower.
“We kill Slanski and Khorev. Callous as it sounds, it’s about the only solution I can think of.”
There was silence in the room. Massey looked over at Dulles and said with feeling, “We’re talking about two people risking their lives for us. Two people who had the guts to carry out this operation, and you want to kill them?”
Dulles fixed Massey with a stare. “This isn’t a perfect world, Massey. But it’s the only solution I can think of and maybe the only shot we’ve got left.” He looked back at the president. “Branigan and I have been doing a little homework, trying to figure this thing out.” He plucked a file from the briefcase beside him. “Right now we’ve got four agents in Moscow. To each we send a brief encoded message usually every four weeks to keep in touch and let them know we haven’t forgotten about them. The transmissions are made on regular radio programs on the Voice of America at prearranged times. To any ordinary listener the transmission sounds harmless, but our agents, once they decode a certain passage transmitted at a certain time, have a message from us.”
He leaned over and handed the file to Eisenhower. “These are two agents of ours in Moscow we think could help.”
As the president picked it up, Dulles added, “They’re freebooters. Former Ukrainian SS. In fact, Massey himself had them parachuted into the Ukraine six weeks ago. They arrived in Moscow a week later.”
Eisenhower quickly read the file and replaced it on the desk. “So what are you proposing?”
“We’re due to send a routine message to these men on schedule tomorrow night. But instead we tell them about the man and woman we want located. Massey here has told us about Lebel’s lady friend, whom Slanski is to meet in Moscow. She’s got a dacha he’s going to use as a safe house. If we can confirm that Slanski and the woman will show up there, well then, I think you can guess the rest. But I figure we’ll need someone in place in Moscow to make sure the plan is carried out. There’s no room for error. And it’s got to be done fast. Like Massey says, our friend Lebel is eventually going to be made to talk, and then the KGB will know about the dacha.”
“Is there any chance Moscow could decode your radio message?”
Dulles shook his head. “Highly unlikely, Mr. President. The message is decoded on one-time pads, and impossible to break.”
“There’s something vital you’re leaving out. How in darnation do we get someone to Moscow?”
Dulles said, “We’re working on it, Mr. President. Mossad seems the most likely bet. They’ve got contacts through their Jewish League in Russia and Eastern Europe, and we know they have a number of agents and highly placed informers in Moscow, in the KGB and the Soviet military. If you give us the clearance, we ask Mossad’s assistance without divulging our reasons. I think they’ll agree. As you know, we’ve got a formal agreement with them on mutual security matters.”
“You really think it could work?”
Dulles said, “It’s going to be risky and difficult, sir. And it needs to be done with great speed but also with great care. There’s no room for error. Me, I think it’s a chance we’ve got to take. But I believe Massey’s the one to answer that question. He sent these people in.”
All faces turned to Massey, and finally Eisenhower said, “Well, Mr. Massey, tell me if it’s possible. Can it work?”
Massey thought for a moment, then said flatly, “I don’t know.”
Eisenhower’s face turned red. “Answer the darned question.”
Massey looked over at him, and the president heard the anger in his voice as he said, “I don’t want any part of this.”
Eisenhower flared. “The question I asked was, can it work? And let’s not forget why we’re here, Massey. You’re somewhat responsible for what’s happened. Answer the question.”
Massey started to get up angrily and Eisenhower said, “Stay right where you are!” He looked at Dulles and Branigan. “Take a walk, gentlemen. Leave us.”
Dulles and Branigan stood and left the Oval Office. As Massey sat waiting, Eisenhower lit a cigarette with shaking hands, still angry as he stood and walked over to the French windows. He opened them and stepped out onto a porch. There was a rush of cool air and the sound of pelting rain beyond the patio, and Eisenhower said over his shoulder, “Step out here, Jake.”
Massey went out to the patio. Rain came down in sheets beyond the porch, and as Eisenhower stared out he said, “Have you got family?”
“A son.”
“What about your wife?”
“We’re divorced.”
Eisenhower looked back. “Would you consider yourself a patriot, Jake?”
“Mr. President, I love my country. I wouldn’t be doing this job if I didn’t. But I can’t go along with this. Alex Slanski’s a brave man, a man who’s doing what no one else would dare do. As for Anna Khorev, she only agreed to go along to get her child back. But she’s still a courageous woman, nonetheless. And maybe we’ve used her. But we can’t kill her. It isn’t moral, and it isn’t right.”
Eisenhower sighed and flicked his cigarette away. “I want to tell you a story I haven’t told anyone in a long time. When I was a young officer I served in Panama. A boy I knew from my hometown served with me. A nice red-haired kid, a good pal to get drunk with, and always quick with a song. Had a sweetheart back home he was crazy about.
“One night our company got sent into the jungle where some guerrillas had artillery that was giving our battalion a taste of hell. Our objective was to silence those guns. Halfway through we got pinned down in the darkness by machine-gun fire. The kid I knew went ahead to silence one of the guns and took a hit in the belly. He crawled back through the jungle toward us with his guts hanging out, screaming his head off for someone to help him. The trouble was, he was giving our position away.
“I was maybe the best rifle shot in the company. My commander ordered me to shoot the kid. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I fired wide. Someone else tried and failed. Five minutes later the guerrillas stormed our position and killed ten of our men.”
There was a look like remorse on Eisenhower’s face. “If I’d had the guts to shoot that kid, maybe those men wouldn’t have died. And there was worse. After we retreated, the guns went on firing and decimated our battalion. I let down my commander and my fellow men. I let down my country.”
He looked out grimly at the rain. “This ain’t no jungle in Panama with the lives of ten men in the balance, or even the lives of a battalion. This is a war we’re talking about. Not twenty lives or more at stake, but maybe twenty million. If I learned one thing that night in the jungle it’s that you cut your losses when you have to, and you take your pain. Hard decisions, sure, but we’re talking about hard facts—two lives for a whole lot of others. Including maybe your son’s.
“Make no mistake, if we fail to stop this thing there will be a war. If Slanski and the woman are caught alive, Moscow will have evidence and reason enough to start one. A war America’s not ready for. A war we can’t win. They’re six months ahead of us with the hydrogen bomb, and Stalin’s just itching to use it if he has an excuse to. And with that kind of power he can blow us off the face of the earth.”
Massey studied the president’s face. There was a hard, determined look in the man’s blue eyes and a grimness around his mouth he had never seen before.
Eisenhower stared back. “The question I asked you was, can the plan Dulles suggested work? I’d like your answer to that.”
Massey sighed. “Maybe. But it’s only an
outside chance. Slanski’s no fool, and he’s the best man we ever trained. Killing him won’t be easy.”
“Then even if there’s just a slim chance we’ve got to take it. There’s only one man I can think of who can identify Slanski and the woman and stop them. And that’s you. I know you don’t want to kill them, but you and I both know why you have to. Don’t make the mistake I did all those years ago. Don’t save two lives when you may lose millions.”
Eisenhower looked into Massey’s eyes. “I’m asking you, Jake: don’t fail your country or me on this one.”
38
* * *
DZERZHINSKY SQUARE, MOSCOW
A scream echoed somewhere in the distance, and Anna came awake, her body drenched in sweat.
A single lightbulb shone overhead, and it almost blinded her.
She was lying on a hard wooden bed in a tiny windowless cell. Water seeped down the shiny granite walls, and the place smelled of damp and urine. There was a metal door in the far wall, and beyond it she could hear the faint clanking of doors being opened and closed.
She guessed she was in a prison somewhere, but she had no idea where, if it was day or night, or how she had got there. One moment it seemed she was being choked by the KGB man, and the next she was here. Everything in between was a blur. Where was Slanski? Was he dead? Alive? In another cell?
The anxiety consumed her. Anna remembered the scream beyond the cell door. Had she been dreaming, or had the scream been real? Perhaps it was Slanski. She felt totally confused and helpless, a terrible fear roiling in her stomach.
Her left shoulder was stiff, and her mouth felt dry and her body weak. She looked at her shoulder. A dressing had been applied, the bandage so tightly wrapped that it cut painfully into her flesh. She tried to move her arm and felt a sharp pain stab through her shoulder to the base of her back. She cried out in agony.
She guessed her shoulder had been dislocated when the KGB major threw himself on top of her in the forest. She remembered the sharp pain when he landed, as if a bone had broken. Then she noticed a small red welt in the soft flesh of her arm where a hypodermic had punctured skin. They had put her to sleep.
As she went to drag her legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, she heard the scream again, followed by a tortured cry that rang through the corridor outside. She shuddered, and the pain stabbed through her again.
Where was she? What was happening? Who was screaming? She heard the clatter of boots outside, a key being inserted in the lock, then the metal door creaked open on its hinges.
Two men in black KGB uniforms crossed to the bed and gripped her roughly by the arms, jerked her up. The pain shot through her shoulder in agonizing waves. As they dragged her from the cell she blacked out.
When she opened her eyes she was sitting on a chair in a room with black steel bars on the windows. The room was bare and functional. Green walls and a wooden table and two chairs facing each other. The table was fastened to the floor with steel brackets. The metal door in the far wall had a small grille and a tiny peephole. Anna felt rigid with fear, and she could still feel the waves of pain in her shoulder.
Watery sunlight flooded in through the window. Beyond the glass she heard the sound of engines starting up and moving off, gears crunching, and far off the faint hum of traffic. She forced herself painfully from the chair and went to the window. She saw a large cobbled courtyard below. She counted seven floors on the opposite side of the building, and there were bars on all the windows. A dozen or more trucks and cars were parked in one corner of the courtyard, and a half dozen motorcycles were sheltered in a corrugated shed. Men crossed the courtyard busily, some in civilian clothes and carrying sheaves of papers, others in black KGB uniforms.
Her heart sank. As she turned away from the window the door opened suddenly.
The KGB man stood there. He wore his black uniform with major’s shoulder boards and carried a manila file under his arm, but there was something different about his false hand this time. In place of the leather glove was a metal hook. He locked the door with a key from a chain in his pocket and put the folder on the table. “How are you feeling?”
The voice was soft, inquiring, and when she didn’t reply Lukin removed a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his tunic pocket and placed them on the table. He pulled up the chair opposite and sat. “Please, sit down. Cigarette?”
Again Anna didn’t reply, and Lukin lit a cigarette and glanced at her shoulder. “My fault, I’m afraid. You’ve got a nasty dislocation a physician had to reset. Nothing’s broken, but it’s going to take a couple of days before the pain goes away.” He smiled faintly and tapped his own arm. “Quite a pair of walking wounded, aren’t we, Anna?”
Now that she saw him close up the man looked exhausted. There were swollen dark rings under his eyes, the strain and tiredness making him look older. “Sit down, please.”
She sat facing him.
“Even though we’ve met before, perhaps I should introduce myself formally. My name is Major Yuri Lukin. I’m sorry you were hurt. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Water? Some food?”
“I’m not hungry or thirsty.”
“That’s impossible. You haven’t eaten or drunk anything in almost twelve hours. If you think by accepting my offer it would seem like a sign of weakness, you’re being foolish, I assure you.” When she didn’t reply, Lukin said, “As you wish.”
There was another scream from somewhere far away, the sound of a dull crack, as if a human skull was being struck against a wall. Lukin’s eyes flicked to the door, a look of distaste on his face. He sighed and stood up. “I know what you’re feeling, Anna: Fear. Confusion.” He glanced at her shoulder, then back at her face. “Pain is the least part of it. Do you know where you are? Dzerzhinsky Square, Moscow. You passed out when I made you cough up this.” Lukin took the cyanide pill from his breast pocket and held it up. “I managed to stop you crushing it just in time.”
She looked at the pill, then turned her face away. “How long have I been here?”
“You were brought in late last night, by military transporter. I’m afraid it’s not the most pleasant of places, with a deservedly bad reputation.” He paused and said without humor, “Some call it the First Circle of Hell, and perhaps they’re right.”
He dropped his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his shoe, then opened the file on the table and flicked through the pages. “I’ve been studying your file. You’ve had quite a life, Anna Khorev. A lot of pain. A lot of grief. So many tragedies. Your parents’ deaths. Your husband’s trial.” He paused. “Not to mention everything that happened afterward. And now this.”
Anna looked at Lukin in amazement and said suddenly, “How . . .how do you know who I am?”
“We’ve known you were involved in this for a long time. Even before you landed on Soviet soil. You and Slanski both.”
Anna started to speak, but she felt so shocked the words wouldn’t come.
Lukin said, “Anna, if you help me by telling me everything you know, it will be easier on both of us.”
She looked at him steadily. “I have nothing to tell you.”
“Anna, there are people here who would take pleasure in hurting you, hearing your screams. Raping you. Torturing you. I am not one of those people. But I’ve seen their work, and it’s not pleasant. And if you don’t answer me, they will make you talk. Please believe that.”
Anna didn’t reply. Lukin said, “I know Slanski came to kill Stalin.” She looked up at him suddenly, her face deathly white. Lukin continued, “I believe you were simply used by the Americans to help him get to Moscow, to pretend to be his wife and hence avoid arousing suspicion. But Slanski’s mission has already failed. Last night he escaped, but he can’t have gone far. And most certainly one of our patrols will hunt him down and find him.
“In the meantime, you may as well help me by telling me all you know. Who your contacts were when you landed in Estonia. Who were meant
to be your contacts in Moscow and en route. I want to know how you were trained and by whom. And everything you can tell me of Slanski’s plan to kill Stalin. Help me answer those questions, and I will do my best to help you in return.”
For a long time Anna stared at Lukin, the enormity of what he had said still ringing in her ears. I know Slanski came to kill Stalin.
Lukin said, “I can help you by pleading for mercy when your case comes to trial.”
There was a look of resignation on her face, and she didn’t reply. He said quietly, “Anna, you’re either being very brave or very obstinate, but I have a job to do: find Alex Slanski dead or alive and arrest whoever else is involved in this mission.” He picked up the folder and put it under his arm. “I’m going to give you a little time to reconsider. For your sake I hope you will talk to me rather than the others. I really don’t want to see you hurt any more than you have been.”
He picked up the cigarettes and lighter from the table. As he stood a moment Anna looked up at him. There was something in the soft brown eyes that seemed to suggest compassion, the way he looked at her and called her by her first name, but she dismissed the thought from her mind.
He crossed the room and unlocked the door. As he went to step out, he looked back at her. “I’ll have some food and water sent to you. We’ve a lot to talk about, and you’ll need to keep up your strength.” He paused. “May I ask you a personal question, Anna?”
“What?”
“Are you in love with Slanski?”
She didn’t answer. Lukin stared at her for a moment, then the door clanged shut. Only when she heard his footsteps fade beyond the door did she bury her face in her hands.
• • •
There was a message on the desk to call Beria’s Kremlin office urgently. Lukin pushed the message aside. He had sent a report that morning. No doubt Beria would have some sharp comments on how he had allowed the Wolf to escape, but right now he felt too exhausted to worry about it.
The pain in his stump came and went in short, savage bursts. He looked at the primitive metal hook; it would have to do for now. He picked up the telephone and dialed the operations room. Pasha Kokunko answered.