Authors: John Gordon Davis
‘So all the cardinals had to come back to Rome to elect yet another new Pope! And
again
it was widely thought that Cardinal Pieter Gunter would be elected. But again he was not. Instead Cardinal Karol Wojtyla from Poland was elected and became Pope John Paul II …’ He paused again; then said slowly: ‘And within fifteen months, they try to murder him
too
… Within fifteen
months
a Turk called Agca tried to shoot the Pope in Saint Peter’s Square …’ Barbie snorted again. Then said slowly: ‘We
know
“They” are the Russians … We
know
that Agca was hired by the KGB, through the Bulgarian airline officials, to kill Pope John Paul II – he has admitted that. So we know,
irresistibly
, that it was also the
Russians
who murdered Pope John Paul I … And why? …
‘
Why
was Pope Paul I murdered after only thirty-three days?
… Why
was Pope John Paul II shot only fifteen months later? …’ He paused dramatically, then said emphatically, ‘The answers are irresistible! …
Because Russia wants their man Pieter Gunter sitting on the papal throne …
’
Barbie let that hang. Then he ended, softly: ‘And he is waiting in the wings …’
Morgan felt wrung out. The tape turned slowly. He thought the man had finished.
What was he going to do about this? …
He tried fiercely to concentrate. Some new pieces of the jigsaw seemed to be nearer fitting.
Anna knew that the Russians had infiltrated her beloved Catholic Church – because Max had told her in a drunken row. She knew that the Secretary of State was a KGB agent. Knew that John Paul I was murdered.
Yet she claimed she was going to destroy the evidence …
He did not believe her. She intended doing something about it …
And she knew that God’s Banker had been murdered whilst trying to get his hands on this evidence that Max had –
‘I’d
rather die like God’s Banker’.
Max’s passport proved that he had gone to London that very day. To make a deal with God’s Banker about this evidence?
And what was God’s Banker going to do with it?
Blackmail the Vatican? But for what? Simply for money, like most blackmailers do? Or for something else as well? – like a political advantage.
A political advantage for whom? Against
whom?
Morgan hunched over, trying to think. And then he remembered something else: the condoms which she had bought in Garrucha. And he knew for certain that she had not intended destroying the evidence. She had dissembled. If she had found the microfilm in New York she would have put it in a condom and hidden it in her vagina, walked out of the bank and disappeared, to do whatever she intended. And that’s what she would have done today if he had not tricked her …
Suddenly Klaus Barbie’s voice came on again:
‘Pieter Gunter is waiting in the wings. And it will not be long before there is another attempt on Pope John Paul’s life, because now is the time the Russians sorely need to have a pope in their pocket.
‘For Pope John Paul’s sermonizing on Human Rights is very much
not
to their liking. True, they can exploit some of this in oppressed, under-developed countries in Latin America, but his message has also penetrated their eastern bloc countries where not only is there a revival of religious interest but now
worker
unrest, taking the form of trade unions. This, of course, is
anathema
to the Kremlin. In Poland, which is ardently Catholic, the charismatic trade union leader, Lech Walesa, has founded Solidarity – and the rot has spread to other satellite states. Russia intends to tolerate
no
such democratic nonsense in her Workers’ Paradises! Martial Law has been declared in Poland and the Russian army stands ready to “restore order”, as it did in Hungary and Czechoslovakia. And Russia has other troubles: her invasion of Afghanistan has soured into an expensive Vietnam situation; her frontiers with China are forever hostile; the communist economy is stagnant as ever, with food shortages; and now the West, NATO, is not only re-arming but is going to accept American missiles, pointed at Russia! In short, with the resurgence of America under President
Reagan, Russia is losing her military superiority in Europe …’ He paused. ‘Now is a
very
important time for Russia to have a pope in their pocket …’
Morgan hunched over the desk, his head in his hand. Klaus Barbie let the point hang; then he ended:
‘And what a wonderful pope Pieter Gunter would be! …
‘Whereas Pope John Paul is a star, Pope Pieter Gunter would be a superstar! Whereas Pope John Paul came from the backwaters of Poland, Pieter Gunter will come to the papal throne with all the sophistication of a lifetime in America behind him! Whereas hardly anybody had ever heard of Karol Wojtyla, Pieter Gunter is a household name already! Whereas Pope John Paul is little more than a priest when it comes to politics, Pieter Gunter is a sparkling expert who is used to dining with kings! And while Pope John Paul is busy jetting around the world like a rock’n’ roll tour, Pieter Gunter is back home in the Vatican, in the role of Carmalengo, deputy Pope, running the whole vast empire, daily widening his powerbase. Pope John Paul is indeed popular, and it is true that crowds have been known to burst out into the song “He’s got the whole world, in his hand …” But compared to Pieter Gunter he is an amateur star: Pieter Gunter is the real thing, and that song would truly become his signature tune …’
There was a pause; then Barbie ended:
‘I repeat: “The
whole
world, in his hand …”’
Morgan snapped the tape-recorder off. He slumped back in his chair.
What was he going to do about this? …
There was a knock on the door. He snapped around. ‘Who is it?’
‘I’ve got an urgent message for you, sir.’
A message could only be from Makepeace and it could only mean trouble! Morgan scrambled up and unlocked the door.
Sergei Suslov shoved his way into the cabin.
Morgan was knocked backwards against the desk. Sergei held a canister up, the nozzle pointed at him.
‘This is a nerve gas, which instantly knocks you out. There is no defence against it.’
Morgan was staring at the man, shocked. Sergei went on quietly: ‘You will not dare to shout because you are impersonating Mr Max Hapsburg and have fraudulently opened his box. That is a serious criminal offence. And believe me I am an expert at unarmed combat. Now, I am going to take the contents of Mr Hapsburg’s box. And, you are going to tell me where Anna Hapsburg is.’
Morgan’s mind was desperately trying to race.
The plane – somehow they had tracked the seaplane to Zurich. But how did they know which bank?
He said shakily: ‘Who double-crossed me? …’
Sergei jerked the canister. ‘I can knock you unconscious in one squirt. And then kill you with one blow.’
And if they had tracked the seaplane, they had it covered right now – they were waiting at the seaplane
… He desperately tried to stall for time. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding, Boris? You daren’t kill me inside a bank. Not until you know whether I’ve got what you want –’
‘
Where is Mrs Hapsburg?
’
Morgan was still pressed back against the desk. The canister two feet from his face. His mind fumbling with the basic rule they taught him at combat school: Never stand so close to your man that he can reach you. Sergei had to break the rule because the cabin was so small. Morgan said shakily: ‘I’ll make a deal. You can have the box. But Mrs Hapsburg you leave alone …’ and he began to turn to the box behind him, and he lashed around.
One hand lashed the canister aside and his other fist swung with all his might at the Russian’s stomach. Sergei crashed back against the door, and Morgan hit him again. Sergei’s hand came swooping down in a wild chop and Morgan saw stars and he hit him with his elbow with all his frantic might in the solar plexus. Sergei crashed into the corner, and Morgan hit him again. His fist crashed down on his head like a club, Sergei tried to scramble up and Morgan clubbed him again wildly with his other fist, and again, and again with his other fist, and again and again. He wildly clubbed him twice more, after the man slumped unconscious, bloody.
Morgan staggered back against the wall, heaving, gasping. The man’s face was blotched in blood and contusions. Morgan looked for the canister, rasping. He snatched it up off the floor.
He turned feverishly to the desk. He snatched both cassettes out of the recorder and stuffed them in his pocket. Plus the envelope of documents and film negatives. He shoved the microfilm back in the box.
He grabbed Sergei’s collar and heaved him away from the door, panting. He opened the door a crack. The corridor was empty. The cabin opposite had a green light shining. He scrambled over the Russian’s body, dashed across the corridor and opened the door. Back to his cabin. He grabbed Sergei by the collar, and heaved him out into the corridor. Across it, into the cabin opposite. He dumped him. He pulled out the canister of nerve gas, thrust it under the Russian’s nose. He held his breath, and squeezed the plunger. Then he scrambled back into the corridor and closed the door.
He dashed back into his own cabin. He shakily smoothed his hair, straightened his tie. He snatched up the box and the tape-recorder.
He strode shakily down the corridor, holding the canister of nerve gas in one hand. He went around the corner. The clerk came towards him. ‘Finished, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
The clerk led him back through the red-carpeted rooms. They came to his new slot. The clerk inserted his key. ‘Now your key, sir.’
Morgan inserted it. It trembled in his hand. He slid the box into the little vault.
The door swung closed. The keys turned.
‘Thank you.’
Morgan took a deep breath. His knuckles smarting, his head throbbing where the Russian had hit him. He touched the gun under his arm. He started walking fast out of the vaults. To face the world.
It all seemed unreal. And terribly real.
He came up the last stairs. His legs still shaky. There was the
foyer. Makepeace sitting in an armchair. He stood up. Morgan walked over to him.
‘A Comrade tried to roll me in the vaults.’
Makepeace was wide-eyed. ‘in the
vaults? …
’
‘They must have tracked the seaplane from Lake Como to here – they’ve got friends in air traffic control.’
‘But we weren’t on that plane – how did they know which bank?’
‘They knew the flight plan was to the Zurich See. So they had all roads into town covered. They spotted us on our way in. And that means that they’ve got the seaplane covered right now. They’re probably aboard the bloody thing.’
‘Oh Lord …’ Makepeace whispered.
‘So we’ve got to use the cars.’ He took a breath that quivered. ‘And there’s another change of plan … You get back to Amsterdam as fast as possible, and look after Anna –’
‘What about you?’
‘This job is far from over. I’ve got to go somewhere else. And you’ve got to get Anna to a safe place and stay with her until I join you.’
‘
Where
are you going?’ Makepeace whispered.
‘You needn’t know that. But I need to know where you’ve taken Anna. Is that place of mine in France safe?’
‘But,’ Makepeace protested – ‘why don’t you come with me to fetch Anna –’
‘Because I’ve got to go somewhere else and I’m not taking her because it’s too dangerous! And the fucking Comrades don’t know where she is right now and I’m scared they’ll follow me to her. So you go alone. Now, is my place in France
safe?
Can you think of anywhere better?’
‘No,’ Makepeace said worriedly, ‘– but Danziger would.’
‘I don’t want Danziger to know a thing about this! Once we’re out of here he’s off the job!’
‘Okay,’ Makepeace muttered ‘– A safe house somewhere? I’ll think about it …’
‘You can’t
think
about it – I’ve got to know
now
.’
‘Then it’s the farm, or we stay in the Yab Yum in Amsterdam. The farm’s much better –’
‘Then get her there, by hook or by crook, and don’t leave till I get there!’
‘What’ll I tell her?’
Morgan held up a shaky finger. ‘You tell her that we did
not
get into the bank today. Got that? – did
not.
But the Comrades tried to roll us during our reconnaissance, and we ran away to think again. Tell her I’ve gone straight to the farm to await her there. I went separately, to divide the forces of the enemy. Got that?’
Makepeace blinked. ‘Got it.’
Morgan pulled out one of the blank passports Danziger had sold him. ‘Tell her to use that.’ He took a shaky breath. ‘Okay … Let’s get out of here.’
He turned to the client’s telephone beside the armchairs. He dialled the Carlton Pub. He prayed it wasn’t engaged.
‘Hullo?’ Danziger said immediately.
‘Have you seen any Comrades?’
Danziger said calmly, ‘Stillgoes reports three suspicious characters window-shopping but nothing conclusive.’
‘It’s conclusive. But it’s Go.’
‘Roger, Go. About sixty seconds.’
Morgan replaced the receiver shakily. He put the tape-recorder amongst the flowers, and abandoned it. He needed both hands free.
And suddenly, now that it was about to happen, he was calmer. Reckless, uptight-calm. This was what he had bargained for and now he had to be furiously calm to fight for his life. They stood back from the glass doors, five paces away. It was snowing. People were hurrying in both directions. Morgan was counting the seconds.
Forty-three, forty-four
… The elevator doors opened and a woman stepped out. She walked towards the glass doors and stopped when she saw the snow.
Sixty-one
– and Danziger’s car came into sight.
‘
Go!
.’
They both strode for the glass doors. Morgan pulled the can of nerve gas out of his pocket. Danziger’s car slammed to a halt. Morgan and Makepeace came bursting out of the bank. They ran across the sidewalk, dodging and side-stepping people, and the Russians came charging at them.