by Wolf Wootan
He got into a spoon position and put his right arm over her and his hand cupped one of her breasts. He was surprised that he did not get another erection. He attributed it to being tired, and the booze.
“Goodnight, Bob Kelly,” she whispered and was asleep immediately.
“Goodnight, Katerina Klaus,” he whispered back.
• • •
That night was the end of the old Bob Hatcher, and the beginning of the transformation to a new Bob Hatcher. He began a whirlwind courtship of Katerina Klaus. They spent as much time together as their schedules allowed. Although he never dropped his cover as Bob Kelly, under her gentle guidance, parts of him that had been buried for years began to emerge. His cynicism was blunted, his gentleness returned, caring for life blossomed, and he began to think he could actually love someone.
Two weeks later, after their petting game progressed to heavy petting, she finally let him “take her pants off.” That was on Christmas Day, Sunday, December 25. It was the best Christmas present he had ever received. By then, she had captured his heart and soul totally. He was in love with her, and she with him. In the weeks that followed their first love-making, they grew closer and closer together. Although he felt guilty for not telling her who he really was and what he really did, that was one area of his life he could not divulge—not yet. He did, however, learn all of the details of Kat’s sordid life. She confided that she was tempted many times to go to the U.S. Embassy and defect, asking for political asylum in the United States. But she knew that would be a death sentence for her family, so she suffered on, doing as her superiors in the Stasi demanded.
In June, seven months after they had first met, things took a turn for the worse. The first bit of news that complicated their furious love affair was Katerina’s discovery that she was pregnant. Neither of them could reconstruct exactly when their birth-control precautions had failed. This event was both good news and bad news. They were both actually pleased that they were going to have a child, but the negative consequences were overwhelming. If the Stasi found out about it, there was no telling what their reaction would be. Hatcher decided he must take immediate steps to get her out of Germany. Although it was within his power for this to take place, it was complicated by the certain dire consequences that would befall her mother and sister.
The second event was even more devastating. A few days after he found out Kat was pregnant, before Hatcher had formulated a plan, the Stasi abruptly sent Katerina back to East Germany. Hatcher was furious with himself. He should have acted sooner! Now things were exponentially more complicated. Before he could propose a plan for her extraction, he had to know where she was, and why she was suddenly sent back. That meant he must go to East Berlin and nose around. This was not what bothered him—he had several personas that could infiltrate the GDR. It was what he might find there that scared him. Was she in prison? Or dead? Besides, time was no longer on his side. Something must be done, if she were alive, before her pregnancy was discovered.
Three days later, he returned from East Berlin feeling somewhat optimistic. He had found her alive and living at her mother’s farm. As far as Kat knew, her recall was strictly routine. She was scheduled to take some classes on some new surveillance equipment. She had no idea when she was to be returned to West Berlin. She had been both panicked and relieved to see him. She wanted to know how he got into East Berlin. He had lied, telling her he called in a favor from an old friend. She was so happy to see him that she did not pursue it.
When he got back to his apartment, he wrote a coded message for the drop man in West Berlin. It was for his handler in London. It described his plan to get a defecting Stasi agent out of East Berlin, and it included a sub-plan to take her mother and sister to safety also. Later that day, he left the message at his drop. Now all he could do was wait for an answer. Was he too late?
Chapter 4
East Berlin, Germany
August 12, 1984
5:45 P.M.
The Hatchet Man took another scan of the plaza below. The new, compassionate Bob Hatcher that Kat had created was being repressed for the moment. Hatcher had to call upon all of his instincts to ensure the success of this mission. His entire future life was now in the hands of the highly trained senses of the super agent, The Hatchet Man. There was no room for sentiment, or fear, or feelings of possible failure. Every move had to be cold and calculated.
His plan had been approved by the London Station Chief, John McGinnis, who was also in charge of the NOC agents in Europe. Hatcher knew the approval came, not so much because the CIA wanted this agent, but because it was Hatcher doing the requesting. They went out of their way to keep him happy. He had received the details of the approved plan at his usual dead drop, which changed by the day of the week. He had gone back into East Berlin and met secretly with Kat to explain the plan and its timetable. They had met in a barn close to her mother’s home. She had been so thrilled to see him that she immediately insisted on screwing in the hayloft before they discussed anything else. He did not put up any resistance to that suggestion. While they lay naked in each other’s arms, he explained the plan to her, his hand on her stomach where his child was growing inside. On August 12, her mother and sister were to go into the market place to shop. They would be contacted by a CIA agent and would be secretly whisked away through a pre-planned route into West Berlin. They would eventually arrive in New York, then would be reunited with Kat and Bob Kelly. Kat was to meet Kelly in the square he named at 6:00 P.M. that same day. He would then escort her to safety. She was amazed at the plan when he finished explaining it to her.
“You said that you had friends at the U.S. Embassy, but I never thought you could arrange something like this! Those friends must be CIA. You’re a spy also aren’t you, Bob?” she stated, a little flash of anger showing.
“Sort of,” he replied sheepishly, putting his hand on her crotch and massaging it, trying to diffuse her anger.
“Well! You are obviously a better spy than I am! I never suspected you. Was it your job to get me to defect?” she snapped, but tightened her thighs on his hand to keep it where it was. “Will I ever see you again after your mission is accomplished?”
“Kat, I love you! We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together! My job didn’t have anything to do with you! I was just trying to screw you, remember? You made me fall in love with you. You’re the little sneak here!” he replied, kissing her to stifle her reply.
“I guess I believe you—I can’t be mad at you right now. Maybe later. When do you have to leave?” she asked.
“Before dawn. Not much time left.”
“Just enough time for you to screw me again, if you are up to it,” she laughed, feeling for his crotch.
• • •
Hatcher looked at his watch. Five more minutes until six. Then he saw her come into the square and sit down on the agreed upon bench. She lit a cigarette, signaling that she had not been followed. He had told her to come armed, just in case, so he hoped she had her Sig Sauer MP210 in a shoulder holster under her left arm. He did not want it in her purse—it would take too long to get at it if it were needed. He could see that she looked nervous when he zoomed in on her beautiful face.
Only a few more minutes, darling, and we’ll be on our way to the rest of our lives!
He scanned the area one more time on infrared and saw only her heat source. He put his binoculars in their case and secured the case to his waist.
Time to go!
He took the rope in his gloved hands and fitted it onto the karabiner brake on his belt. He went over the wall like a wraith and rappelled to the ground without a sound. He stood in the shadows for a long two minutes, watching and listening. He then lit a cigarette and knew that she had seen him do so. She got up and sauntered toward him.
Come on, baby! Come to Daddy. Get off that square and into these shadows!
She continued walking toward the burning end of his glowing cigarette, trying to look nonchalant. She was
sweating, and quite afraid. She was so close to freedom!
When she was about ten yards from Hatcher’s position, all hell broke loose. A man dressed in black clothing stepped out of a doorway behind Kat and shot her three times in the back with a silenced pistol. Blood spurted from her chest and stained her blouse red as she fell to the ground. The Hatchet Man lost all control—abandoning his instincts, his training. Instead of killing the assassin immediately as he should have—and could have—he ran toward Kat, dumbstruck.
“No! No! Kat! Sweetheart!” he sobbed as he ran to her fallen body.
The man in black raised his pistol and took aim at Hatcher, but was spun around by the force of two bullets fired by a man who suddenly emerged from a doorway a few yards to the right of Kat’s position. Hatcher was oblivious to all of this. He was on his knees and held Kat in his arms, calling her name over and over. Then he realized she was truly dead.
The Hatchet Man returned with a vengeance. He took in the scene around him. The man in black who had shot Kat was down and not moving. He looked at the other man, the one who had evidently shot the man in black. Hatcher recognized him. He was Gary Gaines, the man who worked the drop areas in this part of Germany, passing messages back and forth between NOC agents and the London Station Chief, John McGinnis.
What the fuck is going on here? thought Hatcher. What is Gaines doing here? Who killed Kat? And why? This smells of a very big setup! And Gaines is in on it somehow!
He pulled Kat’s body closer to him and rotated slightly toward Gaines, who was walking in the direction of Hatcher’s position, his silenced gun pointing at the ground. Hatcher wished he had not acted like such a fool. His gun was in the middle of his back and he wished it were in his hand where it should have been.
“What the fuck is going on, Gaines? What are you doing here?” spat the Hatchet Man, his hazel eyes flashing like cold steel.
“I was just watching your back, Hatchet Man,” Gaines answered, looking around furtively.
“That’s bullshit, Gaines! Nobody watches my back unless I tell them to. Who is the asshole who shot Kat?” he fumed, still trying to piece things together.
Trying to ignore the challenge to his story, Gaines replied, “A Stasi agent. They must have got wind of this operation. You should be thanking me for being here, not getting on my case! You would be dead, too, if it wasn’t for me. You acted like an amateur, Hatcher!” snorted Gaines with a sneer.
Hatcher looked at him with contempt. This entire scene smelled of treachery. That Stasi agent had to have been there in hiding for some time, or Hatcher would have spotted him arriving. The German knew about the rendezvous and its timing. Gaines being here meant he was part of the treachery.
Gaines was enjoying seeing one of the CIA’s legends reduced to the wreck of a man there on the pavement. He was not very good at reading people, so he had missed the danger signals that flashed from Hatcher’s eyes like laser beams.
“If you hadn’t been fucking the enemy slut, none of this would have happened,” Gaines went on.
Hatcher’s stomach knotted, and he gritted his teeth. He had to figure a way out of this mess, buy some time to think.
“Enemy slut? She was my fiancée and the mother-to-be of my child! She was carrying my child, you sack of shit! Now they’re both dead!” Hatcher moaned, pulling her body closer to him, running his right hand under her coat.
“She was pregnant? They didn’t tell me that! Jesus, Hatcher, if I had known …” said Gaines, doubt showing in his voice.
“You never would have what? Set us up? You son-of-a-bitch! Who else is in on this? You wouldn’t have the guts to do this on your own,” Hatcher snarled.
“I told McGinnis this was a bad idea,” stammered Gaines. “He’s the one who gave me the order!”
Hatcher knew he was really in trouble now. Gaines would have to kill him, too. Gaines had blurted out too much. Hatcher knew he wouldn’t be able to reach the gun in the middle of his back in time. Hatcher pushed his hand further under Kat’s coat as Gaines raised his silenced gun and pointed it at Hatcher. His eyes revealed his fear, and the decision he had made.
“It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, Hatcher, but now I have no choice. You’ll kill me if I give you a chance,” said Gaines, his voice trembling.
“Before you kill me, tell me why they wanted her dead, and what happened to her mother and sister?” Hatcher groaned, trying to delay the moment, as his hand felt the handle of the gun in Kat’s shoulder holster.
Good girl, Kat! I hope there is a round in the chamber. It may save my life so I can square things for you. But not likely. Can I draw this weapon, pull the slide, and get him before he gets me? Probably not, but I have to try! Maybe I can distract him somehow.
It looked very bad for Hatcher as he peered into the hole of the silencer on Gaines’ pistol. Hatcher grasped the butt of Kat’s gun and suddenly his hopes soared. It was not her Sig Sauer semi-automatic in the holster, but her Colt .32 revolver!
Gaines answered his last question. “As for the mother and sister, I have no idea what happened to them. We didn’t send anyone there to pick them up. As for this slut, they thought that once you got her out of Germany, you would quit the Company. They thought if the Stasi killed her, you would have no reason to leave. In fact, you would have a good reason to stay. They figured you would want to stay and take revenge on the Stasi.”
“They are right about the revenge part, asshole. A lot of people are going to die because of this,” said Hatcher coldly. He pulled Kat’s revolver, flicked off the safety, and shot Gaines between the eyes.
“Starting with you!” spat Hatch.
Hatcher’s mind went into overdrive. Kat’s gun was not silenced, so the noise of that shot would draw attention quickly. He took Kat’s gun and put it her right hand and used it to put four more bullets into Gaines’ face, obliterating it beyond recognition. She would now have powder residue on her hand in case anyone went to a lot of trouble to reconstruct what happened here today. He left the gun in her hand as he lowered her gently to the ground.
“Goodbye, Kat darling! Forgive me for leaving you here like this, but I must go now. I love you!” he said with emotion. He stripped Gaines’ body of identification and then disappeared into the shadows, heading for his car two blocks away.
• • •
An hour later, Hatcher was in a seedy bar not far from the Berlin Wall. He belted down two stiff bourbons to help calm the rage boiling inside him. He tried to reconstruct the events that had just shattered his life. Gary Gaines had tipped off the Stasi about the defection. He said he got the order from John McGinnis in London. McGinnis would never give such an order on his own. That meant the order originated in Langley from James Gramble himself, the Director of all NOC agents in the world! How did Gramble figure out that Hatcher was going to quit after Blue Moon? It was unimportant in the bigger scheme of things. The real tragedy was that Gramble would think Hatcher was naive enough to fall for such a scam. Well, he would quit anyway, but now on different terms—his own. He would start his new life—albeit without Kat and his child—just as he had promised her. First, there was other business that needed finishing.
• • •
At 8:00 P.M., Hatcher found a public telephone that had nobody near it at the moment. It was 7:00 P.M. in London, so his party should be home by now. Using Gaines’ international phone credit card, he dialed a number that he dredged up from the banks of his photographic memory. It was John McGinnis’s home phone number, a number that was monitored by most intelligence agencies in Europe. McGinnis knew it was tapped, and he left it that way so he could disseminate disinformation when it suited his purpose. He had a different, secure line that he used for Company business. So when his unsecured line rang at 7:00 P.M., he assumed it to be a social call of no importance.
“McGinnis,” he answered cheerfully.
“McGinnis, Gaines here. Blue Moon was a disaster! I told you not to fuck with The Hatchet Man,” said an exc
ited, slurred voice. “The girl is dead, but so are a Stasi agent and The Hatchet Man! All hell will break loose when the other NOCs find out that you set up the Hatchet Man! I’m disappearing! Don’t even try to find me!”
McGinnis was red with rage. Blood vessels were standing out on his forehead. He knew every word of this was being recorded on a dozen or more tape machines. He hung up immediately, but he knew the damage had already been done. He would have liked to have had more details of what really happened, but not on this phone.
That fucking Gaines! Why did he call on this line? Hatcher dead? I told Gramble this was a bad idea. Now every fucking agent in the world will think I gave the order! I had better call Gramble. The shit is really going to hit the fan! What time is it? Two P.M. in Virginia. I don’t want Gramble to hear about this from the KGB or Stasi!
• • •
Hatcher smiled when McGinnis hung up on him. He knew that would happen, but he got the key words on the line first. The intelligence community would now believe that The Hatchet Man was dead. They would assume the man with no face was him. The Company would start looking for Gaines in a frenzy, but they would never find him. That chapter was closed. On to the next.
Chapter5
Langley, Virginia
Friday, August 17, 1984
3:00 P.M.
James Gramble, Assistant Deputy Director of Foreign Assessment, was pacing back and forth in his office, unhappy with the situation in which he found himself. Not many people, even within the CIA, knew that his title was a smoke screen for his real job—Manager of the Black Money Fund and a dozen or so NOC agents. Authorized covert, or black, operations were run out of another department. Those operations had Presidential approval and were carefully managed by the appropriate high-level officials.
The tasks performed by Gramble’s agents were never officially acknowledged as CIA operations. Complete deniability was a must. His operations were blacker than black. He reported to the Deputy Director of Operations (DDO), and received his assignments from him, but the DDO never asked for any of the details of a mission’s execution. This made John Gramble a very powerful man. He could assign missions to agents that served his own agenda if he wished, and no one would ever know about it. He had access to large amounts of money to be used for assignments, but an accounting for this money was never required, except in the broadest sense, because officially the money did not exist in any budget.