Icebreaker jb-18

by John E. Gardner

  The tracer still kept coming, even though the flare had gone out. Then another small explosion heralded a second flare, and this time the guns ceased firing. Instead came the terrifying noise of a fast-approaching express train: at least that was what it sounded like until the mortar bomb landed, well behind and to their left. It made a solid, ear-ringing crump, followed by a second and third: all behind them.

  Paula was taking the Yamaha to its limit, still using avoiding action, but relying on the straight runs for speed. There were moments, as Bond clung to her, when he thought they would leave the ground completely.

  The screech of mortar bombs came again; this time to their right and ahead – three violent orange flashes played havoc with the eyesight in the dark, the dazzling after-flash lingering on the retina.

  The thing that worried Bond most, was the placing of the mortar bombs. First they had fallen behind; now they were in front. It meant only one thing: that Kolya’s men were bracketing their target. Chances were that the next bombs would fall at least level with them, unless Paula could outrun the range: she was certainly doing her best: throttle wide open, the Yamaha skimming ice and snow, flat out.

  Through the white gloom, the far rise – into the trees and Finland – was already becoming visible.

  There was one more nasty moment as they heard the distant thump, and the hiss of falling bombs for the last time. But Paula’s burst of speed had given them the lead. There were half a dozen explosions this time, but all were behind, and well off line. Unless the scooter hit a mine – and there had already been plenty of opportunity to do that – they would make it.

  While Paula and Bond were making their desperate dash for the Finnish border, two men climbed from the rocks to the left of the flaming ruins of von Glöda’s Ice Palace. There was no one to observe them in the gathering dusk.

  Since the horrors of that morning’s attack, the men had worked frantically in the only tiny fragment of the bunker that had remained, miraculously, intact – one steel and concrete pen housing a small, grey Cessna 150 Commuter, with ski attachments on its tricycle undercarriage. As the light failed, so they finally managed to swing the buckled doors free.

  The aircraft seemed undamaged, though the runway ahead had been gutted and strewn with débris. The taller of the men gave a few friendly instructions to his companion, who had worked so hard. Willingly, the man trudged out on to the runway, shifting what he could, clearing a few hundred yards of makeshift pathway in front of the Cessna.

  The plane’s engine started with a sporadic cough, then settled down to warm into its comfortable hum.

  The other figure returned, climbed in beside the taller man, and the little aircraft gingerly moved forward, as though its pilot were testing the strength of the runway beneath him. Then the pilot turned to his companion, giving him the thumbs-up sign, and pushed down the flap control to give maximum lift. A second later, he gently opened the throttle. The engine rose to maximum revolutions, and the Cessna bumped forward, gathering speed, the pilot craning, slewing the aircraft from side to side to avoid the worst sections of the runway. With a bump, the Cessna hit a short, straight patch of ice, seemed to snatch at an extra few kph of ground speed, and began to skim the rough surface.

  Trees loomed ahead of them, growing taller by the second. The pilot felt that moment of response from his craft as the weight transferred safely to the wings. Gently he eased back on the yoke. The Cessna’s nose came up. She seemed to hesitate for a second, then thrust forward, balanced only a short distance from the ground but gaining airspeed with every second. The pilot eased back a little more, his right hand pushing the throttle fully open, then winding back on the trim to give the aircraft a shade more weight in the tail. The propeller grabbed at the sky. The nose fell slightly, then the propeller grabbed again, clawed at the air and sent it barrelling back over the flying surfaces until the small plane was stable, nose up and climbing. They cleared the top of the fir trees by a matter of inches.

  Count Konrad von Glöda smiled, set a course, and headed the Cessna towards his next goal. This day might have been a defeat, even a crushing one, but he was not through yet. There were men, legions of men, waiting to come under his command. But first, there was one score to be settled. Gratefully, he nodded at the craggy face of Hans Buchtman, whom Bond had known as ‘Bad’ Brad Tirpitz.

  Paula and Bond reached the Hotel Revontuli at two o’clock in the morning, and Bond went straight to the Saab to send a carefully worded cipher back to M. When he got to Reception there was a note waiting for him. It read:

  We are in suite No. 5, my darling James. Can we sleep in please, and not leave for Helsinki until the afternoon? All love, Paula.

  P.S. I’m not really all that tired at the moment, and have ordered champagne and some of this hotel’s rather excellent smoked salmon.

  With a certain amount of satisfaction, Bond remembered Paula’s hidden delights and particular expertise. Spryly he walked to the lift.

  19

  LOOSE ENDS

  They talked almost the whole way back to Helsinki in the Saab.

  ‘There are a lot of things I still need to know,’ Bond, now fresh, showered and changed into clean clothing, had begun soon after they left Salla.

  ‘Such as?’ Paula was in one of those cat-who’s-licked-the-cream moods. Dressed in furs, looking more like a woman than what she had called ‘a bundle of thermal underwear’, she shook out her lovely blonde hair and snuggled her head against Bond’s shoulder.

  ‘When did your Service – SUPO – first suspect Aarne Tudeer, or Count von Glöda, as he likes to call himself?’

  She smiled, looking very pleased with herself. ‘That was my doing. You know, James, I’ve never worked out why you didn’t cotton on to me years ago. I know my cover was good, but you didn’t even suspect?’

  ‘I was foolish enough to accept you at face value,’ Bond said, taking a deep breath. ‘I did have you checked out once. Nothing came back. It’s easy to say it now, but there were times when I wondered how we managed to bump into each other so often in far away places.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘And you haven’t answered my question,’ Bond persisted.

  ‘Well, we knew he was up to something. I mean, all that business about me being a schoolfriend of Anni Tudeer is absolutely true. Her mother did bring her back home, and I did meet her. But when I heard, officially, long after SUPO had recruited me, that Anni had joined Mossad I just couldn’t believe it.’

  ‘Why?’

  For a second Bond’s mind drifted away from the road. Any mention of Anni Tudeer was bound to bring back unpleasant memories.

  ‘Why didn’t I believe she was a genuine Mossad agent?’ Paula did not hesitate. ‘I knew her too well. She was the apple of Aarne Tudeer’s eye. She also loved him dearly. I knew only as a woman can know. Partly it was some of the things she said; partly intuition. Everyone knew about her father – of course they did – there was never any secret. Anni’s secret was that she had been brainwashed by him. I think that, even as a child, he had mapped out what part she would play. Almost certainly he was in constant touch with her, advising and instructing her. He was the one person who could teach Anni how to penetrate Mossad.’

  ‘Which she did very well.’ Bond glanced at the pretty face next to him. ‘Why did you mention her name to me? That first time – when I questioned you, following the knife fight at your place?’

  She sighed. ‘Why do you think, James? I was in a very difficult situation. It was the only way I could pass on some kind of clue.’

  ‘All right. Now, tell me the whole story.’

  Paula Vacker had been in on the entire NSAA affair from the start – even before the first incident at Tripoli. SUPO, through informers and observation, knew that Tudeer had returned to Finland, taken the name of von Glöda, and appeared to be up to something just over the border, in Russia. ‘After every possible intelligence agency had been called in on the National Socialist Action Army, I su
ggested it could be the work of Tudeer,’ she told him. ‘For my pains, my masters ordered that I infiltrate. So I put myself in the right places and said the right things. It got back, I was a good healthy Aryan Nazi.’ Eventually, von Glöda had made contact. ‘I was finally appointed to his staff as resident in Helsinki. In other words, I was doubling with the full knowledge of my superiors.’

  ‘Who refrained from passing information to my Service?’ There were many things that still puzzled Bond.

  ‘No. SUPO was, in fact, preparing a dossier. Then the storm broke at the Ice Palace – over Blue Hare – and there was no need to make any reports. Kolya’s superiors set up Icebreaker and I was supposed to be there for your protection. I gather your Service was put in the picture – late on – after you’d left for the Ice Palace.’

  Bond pondered on this for a few kilometres. Eventually he said, ‘I find it hard to swallow – the whole business about Icebreaker and the deal with Kolya.’

  ‘It would be difficult to believe unless you were actually there, unless you really got to know von Glöda’s deviousness, and Kolya Mosolov’s cunning mind.’ She gave her delightful laugh. ‘They were both egomaniacs, and power mad – though each in his own way, you understand. I did the journey from Helsinki to the Arctic and across to the bunker a dozen times, you know. I was also there, and trusted, when the balloon went up.’

  ‘What? Blue Hare?’

  ‘Yes. That was all absolutely genuine. You have to take your hat off to von Glöda. He had nerve. Incredible nerve. Mind you, I think the Soviets were keeping more of an eye on him than he imagined.’

  ‘I wonder.’ Bond took an icy bend a little fast, swore, left-footed the brake, came out of the skid with power, and had the car under control all in a matter of seconds. ‘You know a British General has said that the Russians should be awarded the wooden spoon for ineptitude? They can do the most stupid things. Tell me what happened with Blue Hare.’

  ‘I was completely accepted within the, so-called, Führer’s inner circle. He seldom let us forget how clever he was in bribing those stupid NCOs at Blue Hare. He really did pay them a pittance for the equipment; and they didn’t seem to think about being caught.’

  ‘But they were.’

  ‘Indeed they were. I was there when it all happened. The fat little Warrant Officer came dashing up to the bunker. Like the rest of them, he was really only a peasant in uniform. Stank to high heaven, but von Glöda was terrific with him. I have to admit the man could be exceptionally cool in moments of crisis. But of course he believed in his destiny as the new Führer. Nothing could go wrong, and every man had his price. I heard him tell the Blue Hare CO to get the army people to call in the GRU. He knew they would pass it on to the KGB. Oddly, it worked. Quicker than a wink, Kolya Mosolov was there.’

  ‘And asked for my head on a charger.’

  Paula gave a secretive smile. ‘It wasn’t quite like that. Kolya had no intention of ever letting von Glöda get away with it. He simply played along, gave him some rope. You know the Russians; Kolya’s one chink was that he wanted to bury the problem of Blue Hare. On the other hand, I think von Glöda saw himself as the Devil tempting Christ. He actually offered Kolya his heart’s desire.’

  ‘And Kolya said: J. Bond, Esquire?’

  ‘Von Glöda’s mad dream was of power to control the world. Kolya did not think that big. All he wanted was to bury Blue Hare – which meant doing away with von Glöda’s set-up. He could have dealt with it all in a couple of days, on his own. But von Glöda, being the kind of man he was, set his own delusions of grandeur to work. In turn they fired Kolya’s imagination.’

  Bond nodded. ‘Kolya, what do you want in all the world? Kolya thinks: You swept out of the way, Comrade von Glöda; and the Blue Hare business hushed up. Fame and promotion for me. Then, aloud, he says Bond – James Bond.’

  ‘That’s it. The old SMERSH – Department V as they now are – wanted you. So he asked for you.’ She began to laugh. ‘Then von Glöda had the gall to do a deal which meant that Kolya had to work very hard. After all, it was through Kolya that the CIA, Mossad and your Service were brought in; it was through Kolya that you, James, were asked for personally; it was Kolya who set everything up.’

  ‘Under the instructions of von Glöda? It somehow doesn’t ring true.’

  ‘No. No, James, it doesn’t, until you take into account the personalities involved, and their motivations. I told you, Kolya had no intention of letting von Glöda get away with it. But his own private thirst for power and advancement allowed him to use the whole of von Glöda’s organisation for the one purpose of luring you into Russia. It took a lot of doing – the specially printed maps, the replacement of Tirpitz . . .’

  ‘Getting Rivke appointed to the team?’ Bond suggested.

  ‘Von Glöda suggested that Kolya should ask for her, just as he suggested Tirpitz from the Americans. Kolya, of course, wanted you – he spent hours using von Glöda’s telephone, talking to Moscow Centre. They were sticky about it to begin with, but Kolya concocted some kind of tale. His superiors agreed, and put in their formal requests to America, Israel and Britain. Everyone was furious when you couldn’t be brought in straight away. The fellow Buchtman arrived first. He was some contact of von Glöda’s, and they sent him off to meet the real Tirpitz and dispose of him. Then Rivke arrived in Finland. That was very worrying. I had to keep clear most of the time. Von Glöda appointed me as liaison officer for Kolya, which was handy, and by this time Moscow Centre had given Kolya a free hand. They thought he was simply clearing up some nest of dissidents on the Finnish border and wiping the slate clean of Blue Hare, using the Americans, British and Israelis as fall guys if anything went wrong. I suppose they imagined that the NSAA was only a small cell of fanatics.’

  She paused, took one of Bond’s cigarettes, then continued. ‘For me, Rivke was the most difficult part. I did not dare see her, and Kolya wanted messages passed to her in Helsinki. I had to do it through a third party. Then everyone was really waiting for a chance to have you brought out. Rivke came into play, when von Glöda hatched his little scheme, as a standby . . .’

  ‘Which particular scheme?’

  She sighed. ‘The one that made me very jealous. That Rivke should worm her way into your heart, then disappear in case von Glöda needed to use her to trap you. The business on the ski slope took one hell of a lot of organisation – and not a little nerve on Anni’s part. But, then, she was always a good gymnast . . . As you certainly discovered,’ she added pointedly.

  Bond grunted. ‘You think von Glöda had any idea that he wasn’t going to be allowed to get away with it?’

  ‘Oh, he suspected Kolya enough. He didn’t trust him. That was why I liaised with the Russians. Von Glöda had to know everything. Then, of course, we got to the point where our noble Führer needed to know about the man your people captured in England. You were already under sentence of death. So was Kolya. Von Glöda’s plan was to get all his people out to Norway.’

  ‘Norway? That was where his new Command Post had been built?’

  ‘So my chiefs tell me. But they also knew of another hiding place he had in Finland. I should imagine that was where everyone was going when Kolya’s airstrike was called in.’

  They travelled in silence for a long way, Bond going over the facts in his mind. ‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘my trouble is that von Glöda’s the first real enemy against whom I’ve had to pit my wits at long range. Most of my assignments allow me to get close; to know the man I’m dealing with. Von Glöda never let me really come near him.’

  ‘It was his strength. He didn’t let anyone gain his complete confidence – even that woman he took around with him. I think Anni – Rivke – was the only one who really knew him.’

  ‘And you didn’t?’ Bond’s voice was laced with suspicion.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Paula’s tone turned cold, as though offended.

  ‘I mean there are times I’m not completely certain of you, Paula
.’

  Paula gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘After all I’ve done?’

  ‘Even after all you’ve done. For instance, what about the pair of thugs at your place? The knife merchants?’

  She nodded, quietly. ‘I wondered when you’d get back to them.’ She edged away, turning her body towards him. ‘You think I set you up?’

  ‘It crossed my mind.’

  Paula bit her lip. ‘No, dear James.’ She sighed. ‘No, I didn’t set you up. I let you down. How can I explain it? As I said, neither von Glöda nor Kolya were playing it straight. Everyone was in a no-win situation, as they say. I worked under SUPO’s instructions, and also von Glöda’s orders. The situation became impossible once I was put in charge of liaison with Kolya. He was always in and out of Helsinki. You turned up out of the blue, and my chiefs had to be told. I let you down, James. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘What you’re trying to say is SUPO ordered you to inform Kolya? Right?’

  She nodded. ‘He saw a way to get you in Helsinki, then whip you up to the Arctic and into Russia all on his own. Sorry.’

  ‘And what about the snow ploughs?’

  ‘What snow ploughs?’ Her mood changed. A few moments before, Paula had been on the defensive, then contrite. Now she was plain surprised. Bond told her about the trouble on the way from Helsinki to Salla.

  She thought for a minute. ‘My guess would be Kolya again. I know he had the airport and hotels watched by his own people – in Helsinki, I mean. They would know where you were heading. I think Kolya would have gone to a lot of trouble to tuck you under his arm and get you into Russia without using any of von Glöda’s formulas.’

  By the end of the journey Bond was virtually convinced by Paula’s explanations. As he said, there had never been time for him to get really close to the autocratic, iron-haired von Glöda; and he understood from past experience the strange power clash between two determined men, like von Glöda and Kolya.

  ‘Your place or mine?’ Bond asked as they reached the outskirts of Helsinki. He was almost satisfied with Paula’s answers, true, but a niggling doubt remained in a corner of his mind, for nothing in Operation Icebreaker had been what it seemed. Time now to play his trump card.