Deep Cover (39 page)

“An assumption of dubious validity, Andrei, unless we are prepared to admit at the outset that under no circumstances is China willing to risk war—that the entire structure is pure bluff.”

“The GRU assumes it is.”

“The GRU does not have our resources,” Rykov said patiently.

“But with all our resources we have not received incontestable evidence that China actually intends to attack us. Clues, hints, possibilities yes. But no Chinese official is known to have stated unequivocally that they intend to make war on us.”

“The bulk of the evidence is far too substantial to ignore.”

“But it is not conclusive.”

Rykov said, “It is to me.”

Andrei dipped his head. “Your judgment has always been correct.”

It was the proper thing to say. It earned Rykov's fatherly smile.

When Rykov left the office and went into his own, Andrei went downstairs two flights and entered one of the subsection Control offices. The sentry nodded and drew himself up because a visit from the Second Secretary was rare. Andrei closed the door behind him and made use of one of the safe-line phones. It took a little while to get through and when Yashin came on the line his first words were, “Wasn't that you before?”

“Yes. Viktor came in just as you picked up.”

“I see.” On the telephone Yashin's voice seemed particularly scratchy with age. “What has happened, then?”

“Yevtenko arrived from Peking and I spoke with him.”

“Does his report coincide with those Viktor has been receiving from his people?”

“More or less. There were no remarkable differences—no one is lying to us. It's a question of emphasis. They might make the same moves either way; you can see that—if a bluff is to be convincing it must look like the real thing. But Yevtenko has been on the scene a long time and I should be inclined to rely rather heavily on his aptitude for scenting the difference between a real effort and a sham. That was why I wanted to meet with him personally instead of having him report by the usual channels—I wanted to gauge his feelings as well as his knowledge of the facts.”

“And?”

“He believes they are bluffing.”

“Why?”

“As I say, it's mostly intuition. He assumes the Chinese expect us to be spying on them—otherwise it couldn't be a bluff, you see. They must intend for us to know what they're doing. With that in mind a few lucky coincidences become less coincidental. For example, when Yuan Tung sought an agent to obtain up-to-date defense charts of Vladivostok he just happened to single out one of our own double agents for the
assignment. Several things like that. One of Yevtenko's sub-agents had been in deep cover for three years until Yevtenko activated him on my orders a few days ago—the subagent has spent a year as a domestic on the staff of the Maoist elite retreat in the mountains of central China, the underground bunkers where the Maoist leadership will presumably safeguard itself during a war. Viktor has had extensive reports of increased shipments into that retreat—indications that they are preparing the subterranean caverns for a long siege. But our subagent reports that the preparations inside the underground bunkers have not been nearly as comprehensive as those outside. For example bedding has been received but has not been unpacked. Many of the foodstuff shipments are of a perishable nature and they do not have sufficient freezer capacity to store them for any length of time. That sort of thing. What I'm getting at is that it looks as though they are making war preparations only in the places where they have reason to expect us to see the preparations.”

Yashin said, “That sounds fairly conclusive to me.”

“No. Not necessarily. It could all be explained—perhaps they expect to set up the bedding later; perhaps they still have freezers scheduled to arrive within the next forty-eight hours. It's all conjectural. But Yevtenko has a very keen nose and no matter how hard I pressed him he still insisted he smells a bluff, though it is not cut and dried by any means.”

“But Viktor still plans to set off his private war in less than forty-eight hours?”

“Yes.”

“Then we have reached the end.”

“Comrade First Secretary, I must repeat what I said at the outset when I first came to you. There are times when it pays to sit still and do nothing—it is possible to win out that way if your opponent's position deteriorates faster than your own. I repeat that in your own interests. You know what happens to several key comrades if Viktor is deposed—they must go down with him. I have no access to the methods he has devised of destroying them in the event of his own downfall.”

“The downfall of a handful of old men is a very small thing
by comparison with the downfall of the very planet, Andrei. It's not even worth discussing.”

“But we still have time. I earnestly expect to obtain proof that the Chinese have mounted nothing more than a bluff. If I can obtain it within the next twenty-four hours I'm sure I can persuade Viktor to abort. He can give the countermand at any time up to half an hour before the assigned moment. But of course Viktor is the
only
one who can give that countermand—he alone knows the signal; he and Belsky agreed on it privately.”

“Of course. If that weren't the case we could have put a stop to this nonsense the minute you brought word to me.”

“There isn't time to break Viktor down and force the code out of him. He must be reasoned with and we need evidence to do that.”

Yashin said bitterly, “I'm not sure it would do any good at this late point in the game. You and I and all the others have changed as the world has changed but Viktor is still living in Stalin's era and wishes to drag all of us back into it with him. He is at war with the inevitable and I'm not sure but what he'll continue his operation regardless of what evidence he gets to prove the Chinese don't really mean to go to war. Andrei, you are the only man in the world for whom he has affection. You must persuade him. You know what's at stake.”

“I do. But he has always been the stronger of us. Always.”

“To him you are like a son. There is a time when a son must step out of his father's shadow. You
must
prevail. Of course you recognize that once it is done you will take Viktor's place; it goes without saying.”

“I don't want his place. I have been his second for almost thirty years. When Viktor goes there's nothing left that I want here. I'll retire to a farm somewhere.”

“You are a good man, Andrei. I know how painful it is for you.”

“I shall do everything in my power.”

“Do more than that, Andrei.”

Chapter Sixteen

The garage behind Ludlum's house had been converted into a plywood-paneled room containing a large round poker table with green felt topping. It was getting dark outside and they were grouped around the table under a ceiling lamp; the light was harsh, with smoke wheeling through it. The linoleum floor was littered with shoe-crushed cigarette butts and Styrofoam coffee cups.

Belsky was saying, “The reason should be obvious. You can't have an effective committee if it numbers more than six or seven people; beyond that they always fragment into subgroups and the leader loses control. When circumstances force you to have a committee of fifteen or twenty, the best solution is to gather the six or seven top people into a sort of executive committee to make the basic decisions and pass them on to the others.”

Ludlúm said, “I see that. But we've got a hell of a lot of people to pass the word down to and not a hell of a lot of time to do it in. If I had a couple of my people here now, just to listen, it'd save a lot of time getting them aside to where I can talk to them.”

“You'll just have to make the time, Captain.”

Ludlum opened the snap-ring top of a beer can. It spewed with a hiss. Ludlum was in his uniform, Air Force blues with railroad-track insignia. A huge gorilla torso on strangely spindly feminine legs. A pugilist, and other things as well: communications officer for the missile wing, Amergrad cell leader, expert in electronics.

Belsky said, “It shouldn't be that bad. In theory the force numbers well over two hundred Illegals but in practice we've only got to work with about eighty-five—the people directly connected with the operation.”

He was talking to fill silence; they had to wait, the group wasn't complete. Restive, Nick Conrad got up and stood by the edge of the window, watching for the latecomers. His fingers toyed with the venetian-blind cord, tying and untying knots in it. A little less than forty-eight hours to go.

They heard the car coming. Ludlum stood up and went outside. The screen door closed behind him with a hiss and a slap. Belsky pulled the light string and they waited in darkness. He could feel their heat around him—Conrad, Hathaway, Adele Conrad, Fred Winslow. With Ludlum outside and the two new arrivals it made an ungainly group, seven of them not including Belsky, but he couldn't pare it down any tighter.

Ludlum held the door for Nicole Lawrence and came in behind Ramsey Douglass. “Okay,” and Belsky switched on the light.

Nicole said, “Where's the john, Leo?”

Ludlum said, “Christ. We haven't got time for you to powder your nose.”

“If you don't want to get your shoes wet you'd better point the way for me.”

“Over there.” Ludlum pointed to a door; Nicole went
through it and closed it without even nodding at the rest of them.

Douglass pulled out a chair and sat down at the poker table and said dryly, “What are the stakes and who's dealing?” He reached into his pocket with thumb and forefinger and brought out a heart-shaped tablet which he popped into his mouth.

Belsky said, “Take care with those amphetamines.”

“I've had no sleep in two days. I can handle them. I'm not a pill freak.”

Belsky said to Fred Winslow, “Taking things in order. You're now in command of the missile wing?”

“Temporarily. Until they send in a replacement for Colonel Sims.” Winslow looked full of bile; he wasn't meeting anyone's eyes.

Ramsey Douglass asked, “What happened to Colonel Sims?”

Winslow said very angrily, “His plane crashed on the way to Yuma. I understand they found indications that several sticks of explosive had been taped to the control cables of the plane. Altimeter-fused. I don't like that, Dangerfield. You told me to get him out of the way temporarily and I did: we put some nonlethal poison in his wife's coffee down in Yuma and he was on his way down there to hold her hand in the hospital. It wasn't necessary to have him killed.”

“There was no way to be sure he wouldn't return at the wrong moment,” Belsky said. “Don't fight me, Vozshin, we haven't time.” He turned to Hathaway. “What about Spode and that Senator?”

“Spode's been seen here and there. The Senator hasn't. He dropped out of sight after he left Professor Moskowitz at the university gate this morning. It looks like he's gone to ground.”

Ramsey Douglass said, “I talked to Forrester's girl friend and she hadn't seen him. When I called her back later she'd gone.”

“Gone home?”

“Just gone. Maybe she's with him. In any case she's got
instructions to keep him out of our hair. I talked to her brother but he doesn't know much of anything, or didn't a few hours ago. I can check back if you want.”

“Never mind,” Belsky said.

Hathaway said, “If Spode persuaded the Senator to go to ground it's got to mean Spode made you, Dangerfield.”

“I know. Our cover is wearing thin but it can't be helped.”

“You want us to take Spode out?”

“For the moment we've more important concerns. It's just as well if the Senator has been scared off: he'll be sure to stay away from the Air Base for a few days and that's all we really require of him. As for Spode he can't possibly know enough to interfere. At the worst he's reported my presence to Washington and there are agents looking for me, but as long as I remain out of sight we're in no danger. They have no way of knowing about the rest of you or the operation we're executing. And if we ignore Spode they may begin to get the idea I've fled the area. No—leave them alone.”

The toilet flushed and Nicole emerged from the lavatory. “You ought to clean up that loo sometime, Leo.” She took the empty chair beside Ramsey Douglass, and Belsky saw Douglass move slightly away from her. It was one of the things that made Belsky uneasy, the relationship between Nicole and Douglass—uneasy because he had not been able to determine the nature of it. On the surface they gave the impression of a pair of mutually destructive organisms drawn together by some curious masochistic force—but there had to be some explanation for it. They were all needed, these people—he needed their faculties and it disturbed him whenever hints of neurotic weakness revealed themselves. Douglass appeared calm enough but there were signs that not far under the surface was a potential for violent hysteria; if the man was likely to come apart in a crisis it was no good.