Alex West, Canadian tractor salesman, had evaded his KGB “escort” this morning, had not returned to his hotel, and had not kept his scheduled meeting this afternoon with the Soviet Ministry of Agriculture and Food. He had however called them and postponed the meeting until tomorrow, claiming food poisoning from his questionable breakfast. He had hung up before they could ask where he was, nursing his condition.
It was possible his cover could be maintained.
But he still couldn’t explain his presence here.
His task now was to try and delay any search from beginning for Sergie and his family. He only needed five minutes, the second stop on the Underground Railroad never more than five minutes from the first. During those precious five minutes the first man in the passenger seat would be gathering all their ID and other identifiable items, giving them their new identities, then explaining what would happen at the next stop. And at that next stop they would swap vehicles in under a minute, the first vehicle leaving in the opposite direction, ensuring they hadn’t been followed. If any tail was detected, there were bail points all along the route where the driver could escape on foot down a path too narrow for vehicles to follow, where another vehicle would be waiting at the other end to swoop them away.
In all the years of operating the Underground Railway, not a single CIA operative had ever been caught on the first leg of the trip, or the decoy. It was so meticulously planned and practiced, almost every eventuality was planned for. And West knew that if the second part of the route was begun successfully, there was almost no chance of the family being caught.
Any number of routes could be used that would take them across the country to various points. Checkpoints were never avoided, the human cargo always well hidden in secret compartments. End points could be in Poland where they’d depart by ship, sympathetic Solidarity labor union members providing assistance, East Berlin, where transit into the West was easier than the Soviet’s wished, Turkey through the mountains, or any other number of border countries through unguarded, deserted terrain. Even submarines and small planes were used.
It didn’t matter how, the route, though rarely used, functioned well.
And West had absolutely no clue where stage two started, or where the railroad ended.
Sergie and his family were most likely safe, and he was about to have his cover blown.
There was a knock at the door, the rattling having stopped.
KGB doesn’t knock. At least not gently.
He stepped over to the door and unlocked it, deciding he might as well take a chance. Opening the door his jaw nearly dropped, the last person he expected to see stepping inside quickly, closing the door.
It was Adelle Bertrand, his consort and French spy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, looking out the small window in the door.
“Trying to save your bottom, mon chéri.”
“Is there anybody out there?” he asked, looking at her.
“They just raided your friend’s apartment and have begun a sweep of the area.”
“How did you find me?”
“I’ve been following you all day, since the hotel this morning.”
“Impossible!”
“And yet here I am.”
West couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Any idea if my cover is blown?”
“A colleague has informed me that your room at the hotel was searched, then ordered made up again to hide the fact they were there. It may still be intact.”
“If we arrived together, it just may save us.”
Adelle frowned.
“And risk blowing my cover?”
“And yet you are here.”
She smiled, patting his cheek.
“What is so important that I should do this? You know as soon as we are seen together, we will be forever linked, and if they know either of us are what we are, they will assume the other is too.”
West cocked an eyebrow, dropping his chin slightly, staring at her.
“Do you honestly think, after all these years, they don’t know exactly who we are?”
She grinned.
“A girl can always hope.” She looked about. “So, what is the big secret?”
West retrieved the microfilm and handed it to her along with a Swiss Army knife, magnifying glass extended.
She quickly began to look over the intel, gasping on several occasions, stopping before the end, there just too much information to read now.
“Has this been deployed?” she asked as she handed everything back to him.
“Near the end there is deployment information including dates and locations.”
“Where?”
“All over the United States, Europe, the world.”
“This could change the balance of power!”
West nodded.
“Absolutely. And we need to get this intel back to our side so they can stop this.”
“If they even think you have it, there’s no way you’re getting on an aircraft tomorrow and flying home.”
West thought for a moment then looked at Adelle.
“But if you had it…”
“Then they would search you, but find nothing.”
“I would need assurances that you would pass the microfilm on to my government.”
“Of course. After I have made a copy for the French government.”
“Of course,” smiled West, returning the microfilm to its container and handing it to her. “How will you get it out?”
“We have a drop near here. I will go there now, then return to my hotel. And what will you do?”
“I was supposed to evac with them, but when the lookout saw you, I decided to stay in case you were KGB so I could buy them time.”
“So it is my fault you are stuck here?”
She seemed genuinely crestfallen, and West stepped closer, placing a hand on her cheek.
“No, it’s not your fault. I should have gone with them regardless. And besides, you were trying to help. I could never fault you for that.”
She looked up at him, smiling.
He leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then as his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers intertwining in her hair, she pushed herself against him, her arms wrapping around him, her hands sliding under his open jacket, gripping at his shoulders as the kiss smoldered, the frenzy building as years of pent-up frustration began to release. He felt movement below, and so did she, breaking the kiss, her fingers pulling on his hair, separating them for a moment.
“Do we have time?” she asked, breathlessly, then dove back in, devouring his mouth before an answer could be given, her hands reaching for his belt buckle.
West couldn’t have said ‘no’ if he wanted to.
Seconds later his pants were around his ankles along with his briefs, the chill of the warehouse on his now exposed self brief as Adelle dropped to her knees and made him remember why he could never resist her. He enjoyed her ministrations, removing his jacket and tossing it on the floor. He dropped to his knees, pushing her onto the jacket as she removed her own pants.
He grinned at the lack of panties.
“Were you expecting this?” he asked as he lay on top of her, kissing her now exposed chest, his lips and tongue exploring territory it hadn’t enjoyed in years.
“One always has hope,” she gasped. She grabbed his exposed buttocks and pulled him inside, crying out as he did so. “Hurry! We may only have minutes.”
West smiled, kissing her as he obeyed her orders, the frenzied danger of it all, the adrenaline rushing through both their systems, more than making up for any lack of foreplay, had them both gasping in ecstasy within minutes.
West lay on top of Adelle for a few seconds, his lips kissing her bare shoulder, catching his breath. She tapped him on his back.
“We better hurry,” she whispered. He pushed himself up on his elbows, and kissed her one more time, a kiss returned with a passion that threatened t
o reawaken flagging things.
She noticed and broke the kiss.
“Get off me you bad boy!” she laughed, pushing him away.
He rose and quickly dressed, she doing the same, he ogling her incredible body the entire time. She buttoned up her blouse and he groaned. She grinned.
Pulling her jacket back on and zipping it up, she planted a quick kiss on him then rushed for the rear door.
“Until we meet again, mon chéri!”
She was gone before he could reply. He picked up his jacket from the floor and held it to his nose, taking in her scent, then put it on, the cold now making itself felt.
He checked the front door and saw a lone car approaching, but no evidence they were being watched. Leaving through the back door he saw the footprints of his French vixen go to the right. An irresistible urge told him to follow her, to see if there was some way they could reunite for the night, then the more logical side of him drove him forward on the mission of making certain she was safe.
He quickly followed the footprints before they became lost in the new falling snow. They were heading back toward the hotel, but then took a turn away.
The drop must be close.
He looked ahead and saw a figure in the dark step out of an apartment building and continue away from him. There was no doubt it was her.
The drop must be in the apartment.
Which meant the hard-won intelligence should be safely out of the country tomorrow in a French diplomatic pouch, then hopefully into his government’s hands shortly thereafter so they could find and disarm the already deployed Crimson Rush before it could be used by the Soviets.
She turned a corner and strode out of sight. West quickened his pace slightly, his mission to ensure the safe delivery of the intel to the drop off now completed, his mind instead racing to figure a way for them to spend some more time together.
But he knew it was impossible.
He slowed himself, checking his libido, chastising himself for jeopardizing the mission for the sake of another roll in the hay—a spectacular roll, mind you. Shifting his thoughts to his return to the hotel, he pulled out his wallet and removed a piece of cardboard from the billfold lining. He popped it in his mouth, beginning to chew it, and within moments he could feel his stomach start to churn as the ipecac it had been soaked in began to release and do its damage.
A scream ahead had him spitting the cardboard into a snow bank as he began to run to the end of the street. He skidded to a halt in time to see Adelle being shoved into the back of a black Volga by two men, clearly KGB. She looked out the back window as the doors slammed shut, the light inside cutting out but not before he could see her shaking her head, signaling him to do nothing.
He turned around, stepping back into the shadows when he heard a match flare. Spinning around, he saw the face of his old rival, Viktor Zorkin, one of the KGB’s better agents, their clashes legendary amongst themselves. West was about to pop him in the nose when Zorkin shook his head, raising his weapon into view.
“Uh-uh,” said Zorkin, taking a drag on his cigarette then blowing it in West’s face.
American brand.
“Shall we go quietly?”
“We both know you have nothing on me,” said West.
Zorkin smiled, flicking his Makarov pistol.
West, hands raised slightly, stepped back and began to walk toward the warehouse.
“This time things are different, my friend. We have photos of you with Lt. Colonel Sergie Tuzik, meeting on several separate occasions that we know of. And now he and his family have disappeared after he stole some very valuable intelligence from us.”
“Search me, Viktor. I don’t have anything of the sort on me.”
“Of course you don’t. But you will tell me where you hid it before the night is through.”
“I think you know better than that.”
Zorkin chuckled.
“Oh, I know you won’t break. But your friend? I don’t think you could stand to watch her being tortured.”
West’s heart began to race. Adelle! This was exactly why you couldn’t form attachments for a woman in this business. It meant leverage.
And they had it.
He hadn’t admitted it until tonight, and he was pretty certain Adelle hadn’t either, but there was something there, some spark that went beyond just sex.
There were genuine feelings there.
And he cursed himself for it.
“Who?” he asked, playing dumb.
“Adelle Bertrand. French spy. Very sexy.”
“Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You may play dumb, but it won’t help you or her. We know about the two of you.” Zorkin sighed. “I’m sorry, Alex, but you screwed up. They have leverage on you now, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.”
West knew Zorkin was right, and he was at a loss as to what to do other than appeal to the man’s humanity, which he knew existed.
West stopped, turning to face his adversary.
“Please, Viktor, she has nothing to do with this.”
Zorkin stopped, tossing his cigarette butt into the snow.
“We both know that isn’t true.”
West decided to take a different tact.
“Do you even know what this is all about?”
Zorkin gave no indication of whether he knew or not, simply replying, “It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does. All of what we have done in the past, those things, those missions, they didn’t matter, not like this. This tips the balance of power too much.”
“Which means we will be victorious.”
“No, it means your leaders might just get foolish enough to think the same thing, and start a war that they may very well win, but not before the world is turned into a nuclear wasteland, the hammer and sickle fluttering in the cold wind of a nuclear winter.”
Zorkin said nothing, merely flicking his weapon for West to move on.
West stood his ground.
“Have you heard of Crimson Rush?”
Zorkin shook his head.
“Don’t do this, Alex. You’re embarrassing yourself. You never struck me as the type to plead for your life.”
West shook his head, lowering his voice.
“I’m not. And I’m not pleading for hers. I’m pleading for theirs,” he said, pointing at the apartment block across the street, “and those like them back home. I think you need to know what Crimson Rush is before you continue down this path.”
“I have no interest—”
West interrupted him, giving him the briefest of descriptions.
Zorkin’s eyebrows shot up, his weapon dropping slightly before he regained his composure, raising it again.
“And you have proof?”
West had already anticipated this question and had decided against trying to retrieve the microfilm. Even if it meant his and Adelle’s lives, it was more important for that intel to make it out of the Soviet Union.
“You have my word. And the fact you are here.”
Zorkin pursed his lips, the gun lowering slightly.
“Go on.”
“Why are you here?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you here? You’ve never picked me up before.”
“You evaded your tail and skipped your scheduled meeting.”
“And they assigned you?”
Zorkin paused for a moment, as if searching for an answer. He fished another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it.
“I’d offer you one, but I know you don’t smoke.”
West smiled slightly.
“Thanks for remembering me.”
Zorkin jabbed the air with his cigarette.
“You do have a point there. I was due to go on a mission but was pulled to track you down.”
“How’d you find me?”
“It was easy once I saw Adelle was staying at your hotel.”
West felt himself flush and was thankful the
light on the street was dim at best.
“So you followed her?”
“Da. A much better assignment, I assure you,” he said with a wry smile, “but then again you already know that, receiving a demonstration of her feminine wiles tonight.”
Now he outright blushed.
“You weren’t—”
“Watching?” asked Zorkin with a wink. “What kind of man do you take me for?”
West’s head bobbed as a smile spread across his face.
“Exactly the type that would watch at the window.”
Zorkin laughed, taking another drag on his cigarette.
“So what are we going to do about this?”
“You need to let that intel get out.”
Zorkin looked over at the building where Adelle had done her drop only minutes before. A pit formed in West’s stomach as he suddenly realized that Zorkin knew exactly where it was since he had been tailing Adelle.
“There is some merit in that idea,” Zorkin finally said, turning back to West. “I agree, if it is what you say it is—”
“It is.”
“—then it will upset the balance, and there are those who would take advantage of that in the Politburo. I agree this can’t be allowed.”
“So what do we do?”
“I bring you in and tell them that I saw you burn the microfilm before I could stop you.”
“And Sergie and his family?”
“They are already out of our reach.”
“And Adelle?”
“Unfortunately there is nothing I can do for her. She is already in the hands of my colleagues, who will have already begun interrogating her.” Zorkin threw the cigarette at the ground, as if in disgust. “Women should not be in this business. It is too easy for us men to abuse them in ways we would never do to each other.”
West felt bile fill his mouth as a mental image of Adelle being raped repeatedly filled his mind.
“Do you think they’ll do that?”
“There are many good men in the KGB,” replied Zorkin. “Most, in fact. We are patriots that love our country. But there are too many that are drunk on the power their position gives them who would definitely do such a thing if given the chance.”
Cold Warriors (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #3) Page 12