Circle Around the Sun

by M. D. Johnson

  He returned as promised and she ordered cappuccino for herself, glasses of milk for Mason and Haley and a large cheese and mushroom pizza for them to share. She carefully placed the envelope on the napkin at the side of her plate.

  The café door opened swiftly and in walked Wilfred de Crecy. In an instant the large glass of milk that had just been delivered to Mason was knocked over, oozing all over the table and dribbling onto the floor. Mason shot up shouting, “Mummy, I’m all wet!” and rose rapidly, grabbing the linen napkins. She saw him! Emily blinked in disbelief! She had just seen her son Mason take the letter and quickly cover it with a napkin, just as de Crecy reached the table.

  “Here let me help you,” said the café owner, summoning his waiter to bring extra napkins, “Come with me.”

  “No, I’ll do it. On the other hand, go with Luigi, Mason. It’s alright,” Emily cried in astonishment as Haley began to wail, thinking someone was absconding with her brother.

  “It’s alright Madam, you take care of your little girl. I’ll bring fresh coffee and milk as well. Please sit at any other table you wish.”

  De Crecy moved towards her. “I see I’ve picked an inopportune moment, Emily.”

  “Well it wasn’t a few minutes ago, but as you can see, with children one must be prepared for anything,” she replied as blandly as she could. “Please sit down at the clean table, I’ll be right with you.” She picked up Haley and moved.

  “I understand that you are planning on doing a little case work on the Stoltz girl.”

  “Not really. But I knew her somewhat, and I feel sad that she met such a terrible end. I was there you know. I found the body. I’m the one who called Beresford.”

  “Emily, she was an assassin. She won’t be missed. The Israelis did their job properly. They’re experts at this sort of thing.”

  “I thought Beresford said that the Israelis had nothing to do with it and they were looking for whoever did it as well.”

  “Beresford’s information is wrong. The Israelis had motive and the best strike team in the world to do the job. The case is over and done with.”

  “You may be right. We’ll see. Ah here comes my son. Will you join us?”

  “No. No,” he said, “Far be it from me to impose. Enjoy your coffee. Good day to you Emily. By the way, what happened to the boutique? I was planning on picking up some things for the wife.”

  “No idea. We weren’t that close. I suppose she has gone back home. I think she was Greek.”

  “Greek?”

  “Yes. At least half Greek. Greek Mother. She spent a lot of time in Athens.” She turned to see her son grinning like a Cheshire cat as he came back to the table.

  “Good grief, I could’ve sworn she was from Darmstadt!” de Crecy responded, taking no notice of the boy as he sidled up to his mother.

  “Really? Wonder where you got that idea from. Anyway, we have to eat. Sorry to be so rude, but these two hate cold food. Take care of yourself, Wils. See you again, no doubt.” Emily smoothed Mason’s hair, placing her arm around him and seating close to her side, watching the tall figure saunter away towards the door and congratulating herself on being such a cool bloody liar.

  When she was sure de Crecy was across the street with his back to her she turned to her son. “And what was that all about?”

  “He came for the letter, didn’t he Mummy?”

  “Probably so Mason. Where is it now?”

  “Up my jumper. And it’s all dry too.”

  “Do you think you can keep it there until we get to the car?”

  “Of course Mummy. I’m a secret agent!”

  “Oh Christ, not another one,” she mumbled to herself.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  Dear Emily,

  By the time you read this I will be on a cruise to the Islands with Julian. We hope to stop and visit Patrice at the end of the trip. I’ve put the shop up for sale, as the entire Verena business scared me greatly. This has become a dangerous place. The “researcher” has been after me for information on Verena’s family and friends. I have nothing to tell him, but I feel strongly that I should leave before he is dissatisfied with my refusal to discuss her. Should you need to contact me simply leave a message with Dimi or write to me care of him. He will be forwarding all my mail.

  Fondly,

  Ulla

  She read the letter again and considered it carefully as she drove back to Ziegelhausen. Clearly Ulla was afraid. She would never have gone on a cruise to the islands with Julian or anyone else, as she was terrified of sailing in a paddle boat, much less on a cruise ship. Patrice was a clear reference to Patrice Lumumba, the African Nationalist who had become the first Prime Minister of Democratic Republic of the Congo, or Zaire, the former Belgian Congo. As he was killed in a military coup over twenty years ago she was hardly likely to visit Zaire so one could only assume she had gone to Moscow where the Patrice Lumumba University was located. Emily knew that many of the terrorists and guerillas currently operating in Europe received their education there. It was known as a training ground for third-world terrorists. The message drop was also interesting. Dimi had to be Dimitri Shulkin. Now why in the hell would Ulla leave an address with him. At least she knew how to find him. One thing had become clear, Ulla was more leftist than Emily had imagined. Why in the hell had she gone to Moscow?

  The following day with the help of Frau Blatz they piled the children into the Benz and drove to Bergstrasse, stopping at the antique showroom where Emily had worked as a student. Emily had remained in touch with the owner, Heinrich Scholl and his wife Ingrid, and after an exchange of pleasantries Frau Blatz took the children into Heidelberg for lunch and shopping at Horten’s department store on the Bizmarkplatz while Emily stayed on at the showroom, using their telephones to make arrangements for her visit to Dr. Dimitri Schulkin.

  She arranged to meet Schulkin in the late afternoon at a trendy French restaurant a few blocks away from the showroom. She chose it because she could reach the place relatively unnoticed by cutting through the showroom’s warehouse alley and across the back yard of the packing department. By using the delivery only entrance instead of the front door she could enter the restaurant without being seen. She requested a table at the back, which assured her further privacy but still afforded her a view of anyone entering the building. Emily was taking no chances. The restaurant was called “Joelle’s” and the owner Jean-Luc Levande had for years a fostered a very soft spot for Emily. He was single, in his late thirties and homosexual. While Heidelberg was a liberal city it was still intolerant of homosexual partnerships and Jean-Luc’s ongoing and often turbulent relationship with his pastry chef, Jacques Bernard had led him to make many late-night calls to Emily for advice and consolation. She had also been his cover date for several formal functions and was a frequent patron of his establishment. Emily had also been responsible for the acquisition of many of the fine antiques in the marble and gold tea salon that was the public’s first glimpse of this upscale addition to Heidelberg life. The restaurant was fashioned after “Laduree”, Paris’ most famous tea salon on the Champs-Elysees. The first floor was given to serving high tea, with a selection of one hundred teas to choose from and some of the most delectable pastries outside of France. The second floor was devoted to sumptuous southwestern French cuisine, reflecting the background of Jean-Luc who was from Landes. Lamb, salmon and Bayonne ham were the house specialties. Emily wasted no time in making her selection of a summer soup, followed by foie gras stuffed tomatoes, slow cooked savory lamb and a crisp salad served French style after the main course with cherry clafoutis for dessert. Maybe a special Chateau d’Yquem, with lots of cognac laced coffee which was always on standby. Notebook ready, she waited for Dr. Schulkin to arrive.

  Looking around the restaurant sipping a formidable glass of Chateau Petrus, she knew this was the best place to ply anyone for information. Despite covering two floors it still had an intimate, almost seductive atmosphere and as she had by now learned, one b
aited better with a honey trap. She would find out everything she could about Ulla, her relationship with Verena Stoltz and how deeply involved she was with the Russians.

  Emily saw him enter the restaurant from her table. She sat, as she had been her trained, with her back to the wall so that nothing would escape her line of vision. Schulkin had changed in the past few years. Heavier now, his round belly protruded over his striped trousers; he wore suspenders and a ridiculous red bow tie, giving him the overall appearance of one of those singing waiters. Why did I bother going through all this trouble trying to be discrete when he looks as though all he is missing are oversized clown shoes? He looks like a complete twit. So much for Russian tradecraft!

  “Hello Dimitri. It has been too long,” she rose, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “Ah my dear, Amina. How good it is to see you again.”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you, Dimitri. The lamb is wonderful here, and I thought perhaps foie gras stuffed tomatoes for a start.”

  “Good. Good. But why here instead of a more intimate dinner at home, hmm?”

  Oh please, she thought. Not that. You have got to be kidding. You disgusting little man!

  “Dimi, a lady likes to be charmed, even pursued.”

  He placed his hand on hers, and she gently patted it before removing her hand and reaching for her notebook. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? Where is Ulla, and why did she leave?”

  “You don’t waste any time getting to the point, do you?” The superfluous charm had suddenly vanished. “Ulla has gone home.”

  “What?” Emily was astonished.

  “Ulla has gone home. I repeat, home. To Mother Russia. In fact, as we speak, she is in the northwestern province of Karelia on the island of Kizhi where she was born. Kizhi is a very beautiful part of Russia. It is on Lake Onega. A nice place, trust me Amina Desai, full of log cabins, daschas, beautiful churches, farms and acres and acres of forest. Her father is a much sought after master carpenter. He has trained many of our people. For all sorts of things, I might add. Carpenter’s and builders are much in demand all over Europe and of course in the Middle East. The Arabs are among the greatest builders in the world. You know that already. It is very sad that they detest us so!” he added wryly, “If we had legitimate free enterprise at home, Ulla’s family would be the top builders in Eastern Europe. As it is, the government pays her father well to train our people for positions that attract no attention in places where we are interested in gathering information and the black market makes sure he stays in business. You are surprised, I see?” He sighed, reaching for the bottle of wine, “Hmm, you have good taste, Amina Desai. This is a 53, an excellent year for Chateau Petrus. Here, let me refill your glass.” He could see she was stunned by his tale. “Amina, you are young and gullible. Ulla is bankrolled in part by us. It was she who introduced us to Julian, if my memory serves me well. The point is, we all have our jobs to do here. Ulla is a recruiter, the store was an asset in that capacity and served us well. It is over now and we must all move on.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?” Emily asked as she helped herself to another glass of wine.

  “Quite simply, Amina, you are getting in over your head and your government doesn’t care if you are at risk. My wife and I, and yes she really is my wife, have a different belief structure than you, but we are not without feelings. We can see very clearly how this will end. You will ferret out information for the British who in turn may or may not share it with the Americans. You see, they believe that the Palestine troubles are being aided in part by European terrorists. Ultimately, your interference in something that does not concern you or country will result in your being killed, if not by the Israelis in their search for the Munich terrorists then by the Arabs who will see you as a traitor.”

  “Are you offering an alternative?” She asked quietly.

  “No. We have all we need from Ulla, my dear. She was ours, nicht vahr?”

  “So why did she give me you as a contact?”

  “Because she knows you are interested in what happened to Verena and she could not be that, how do you say it, forthright without blowing her cover. So she left before it all unraveled.”

  “Let me get this straight, Dimitri. Ulla, whom I have known for several years, was a Soviet recruiter. Among her leads were Julian the arms trader and Verena Stoltz who was a hired assassin. Ulla has now returned to Russia, never to be seen again because her mission is accomplished. That’s it?”

  “Almost. Have patience. Ulla has other work to do now. In the coming years the Soviets will have no choice but to invade Afghanistan. The country is the ancient link from Central Asia to South Asia and ultimately to the Middle East. It serves as the nexus to China. Think of the social groupings, Indo-Aryan, Turkic-Mongolian, Semitic, and Dravidian. Even the languages, Pashto spoken by the Pashtuns and Dari spoken by the Tajiks connect to the outside countries. The main Turkic speakers are the Uzbeks, then the Turko-Mongol Hazaras who are Shi’ite Muslims. The borderlands with the Pashtuns, Tajiks, Uzbeks and Tukomen have intermingled for centuries with Pakistan, Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan. There are Afghan Hindus and Sikhs and over ninety percent of the population are Sunnis. Do you see why this is of major significance for my country? If Afghanistan is controlled by us, and they are already heavily in our debt financially, then we control a mineral rich land, with oil to be drilled, and a real connection to all of those countries. That is half the world! Strategically, Afghanistan is very important. Just a few years ago when the old King failed to grant full authority to the Afghan National Assembly, the students, I might add under leftist control, revolted. In response, the king appointed Musa Shafiq to put right the problems in the government and unify it with the monarchy and what happened, my dear? The old king was overthrown with the help of leftist military, backed fully by us, and Afghanistan was declared a republic last year. Look at what is happening there; women are now treated equally, education is free for everyone, western tourists are coming in by the hundreds. The Silk Road has opened again! If this is left to continue, Afghanistan becomes to us what Israel is to America, but with the added advantage of oil.”

  “Rubbish, Dimitri. Women had independence and education in the fifties. They were allowed to unveil and they held careers in the medical and research field then. It didn’t just arrive with Russian help, and as for the Islamic militants, of which my former husband was one, they will never surrender to the communists. Like he did, they will die rather than surrender Ariana to you,” Emily gulped her wine, “You are not considering history, Dimitri. How many countries have tried to conquer Afghanistan? The Persians, the Mongols, the British and you. They are the world’s best fighters because of their persistence, and while President Daud, whom I might add is the King’s cousin, has sent the old king into exile, you can rest assured that you are not dealing with the complexities of modern society. These are mountain fighters with family ties through every border. They can hide for years in the caves and tunnels of the Afghan mountains. My late husband has border ties and I know he was heading to a religious based training camp near Pashawar before he died.”

  “Dead? Ghulam Ansari dead? No, Amina, he is still there. He is not dead. He’s very much alive.”

  “Nonsense. His parents were given a message through the Red Cross. He wanted them to know he had found paradise.”

  “Amina Desai. You may be divorced, but you were never a widow!”

  “If that is true, why does he not contact his family?”

  “Ghulam Ansari has a new identity. He is a leader now. He has allied himself to Gulbudddin Hikmetyar, Burhanuddin Rabbani, and Ahmed Shah Masud, three very powerful men. We are of course observing them closely and their relationship with Ghulam Ansari. But all of this is inconsequential. Ulla wanted you to know that it was not the Israelis who killed Verena Stoltz, nor was it one of our people. She asked that I remind you of her conversation with you and to avoid this person as he is very,
very dangerous. Ulla mentioned one of our country’s greatest heroes, an Englishman named Kim Philby and said you had a lot to learn. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Nothing else? Nothing about Verena?”

  “That’s it, Amina Desai. Shall we have dessert now?” He signaled the waiter for a bottle of Emily’s favorite, Chateau d’Yquem, a sweet dessert wine, the perfect companion to the Clafoutis specially prepared for them by the pastry chef.

  “Amina, if you ever decide to switch sides, you know where to find me. You would be surprised at some of my contacts within the British intelligence service.”

  “But Dimitri, haven’t I blown your cover now?” Emily was by now totally confused, “How can I remain in contact with you?”

  “Amina, you simply do not understand. This is the great game. The intelligence business is the last fantasy. The big movers and shakers know each other. It’s like playing chess. We have expendable and non-expendable people. Do you think I care if I am known by you as a member of the Soviet Intelligenzia? Do you think they care? Who would pay attention to you? I am a valuable commodity to both sides, thus I am safe. I am in a position to grant favors today, tomorrow your people may grant favors to me. We acknowledge who we are and set our boundaries. There are always people who work the border and the borders are always porous. Don’t forget that. Take care of yourself and Amina, just because someone is highly born it does not make them honest, nor doesn’t make them safe.”

  “Meaning?” She asked, as she signaled for coffee.

  “Verena Stoltz died because she had discovered something about a person she cared for and when he let her down she threatened to expose him. She had to be removed. Now let it go for your own safety. No coffee for me, my dear. I must be leaving.”