The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (10 page)

“They want to help you!”

Anne froze. She thought of her own father.
To není možné! ‘That’s not possible!’

“Who are you? Do I know you? Where is Peter?”

Gustav spoke fast.

“Miss Simek, I can protect you. Tell me where you are. I know you have Vaclav’s information. And I know the diner in Elizabeth City where you met Peter.”

Anne gasped.

The car that followed Peter and me. He’s no friend. My God!

She hung up and stood frozen.

Alone, she shivered in the cold updraft that swept the memorial hilltop.

A dutiful son, Peter Zeleny returned to the Red Roof Inn in the evening. Gustav and his father were talking. Peter waited.

The phone on the end table buzzed. Gustav put it to his ear. The caller was a female, but not Anne Simek.

Gustav handed the instrument to Johan.

“It’s for you.”

“This is Johan Zeleny.”

“Mr. Zeleny, this is Dr. Ryan, of Ryan Associates. You met my associate, Dr. Harris. Can you tell me where Peter is? We would like to see him.”

Johan put his finger to his lips and signaled Peter to silence.

“Dr. Ryan, I have not heard from Peter. I assume he is still in North Carolina. Can I help you?”

“No thank you. We need to talk to Peter. We’ll call back.”

The phone went dead. Jeannine had hung up.

Gustav turned to Peter.

“What do Ryan Associates want?”

“I talked to them about Hus-Kinetika and Xolak.”

Gustav smashed his palm with his fist.

“I don’t like it. What do these people want from you?”

Gustav took out Peter’s borrowed cell phone and clicked it to “Speaker.” He handed the instrument to Peter.

“This is yours. Call them back. Find out what they want.”

Aileen Harris picked up.

“Ryan Associates.”

“Dr. Harris, this is Peter Zeleny. You called?”

“Peter, where are you. We have a package for you. It’s good news for you, and bad news for Hus-Kinetika.”

“What kind of package? What do you mean?”

“It’s from someone named ‘Vaclav.’ A ‘Vaclav Pokorny.’”

“Click!”

In Bethesda, Aileen stared at the dead phone. She shouted.

“Jeannine, you won’t believe that jerk, Peter. He’s impossible. He hung up on me. Again!”

At the Red Roof Inn, Peter stared at Gustav.

“Why did you grab the phone?”

Gustav ignored him and spoke to Johan.

“Vaclav sent Ryan Associates a package. It’s here, in Maryland.”

He turned back to Peter.

“Where are they? How far?”

“They’re in Bethesda, off Bradley Boulevard. It’s twenty minutes away by I-270, if there’s no traffic.”

Gustav wasted no time.

“We’ll take your car. You and I must call on Ryan Associates.”

He turned to Johan.

“Stay here. Here’s Peter’s cell phone. If Simek calls, find out where she is.”

Gustav pushed Peter through the door.

Once again the phone rang at Ryan Associates. Aileen hesitated and then picked up. She waited for the caller to speak.

“Is this Ryan Associates?”

“Yes it is. I’m Dr. Harris. Who is this?”

“This is Deputy Harrigan with the police department in Duck, North Carolina. We think that someone named Vaclav Pokorny sent you a package. Is that correct?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We’re investigating a homicide. Vaclav Pokorny is the victim.”

“You mean he’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you have the package?”

“Mr. Harrigan, please don’t take offense, but how do I know who you are?”

“I assume you have caller ID. I’ll hang up. You call the department. Better yet, check the number on our web site.”

A few deft taps on her computer and Aileen was satisfied.

“Mr. Harrigan, we did receive a package addressed to Dr. Peter Zeleny from Mr. Pokorny. Dr. Zeleny saw us about a research misconduct case. Do you know him?”

“We know the package was addressed to Dr. Zeleny, but what do you mean by ‘Research Misconduct?’ What is that?”

Aileen explained about falsification of data in medical research and the Public Health Service’s definition of ‘Research Misconduct.’ In illustration, she added a passing reference to Hus-Kinetika and Xolak. Jim Harrigan broke in.

“Dr. Harris, dangerous individuals know that the package was sent to your office. For your safety I urge you to secure the package immediately, and protect yourselves.”

“We’ll turn the material over to the FDA, and they will log it in with the Office of Research Integrity. I am sure they will make it available to you.”

“I need to see it right away.”

“In that case we’ll make copies for you now.”

“Thanks.”

Aileen hung up.

“Jeannine, you heard me. We need to make copies of Vaclav’s papers and the Xolak memo?”

Aileen removed a plywood panel that concealed storage space under the remodeled staircase. She looked in. Only one open package of paper was left on the shelf.

“We need paper. There’s less than a ream here.”

Jeannine gathered up the newspapers.

“No matter. Our copier is small. I’ll go to FedEx-Kinko’s and make large copies. We have an all-nighter ahead. I want to get a revised report and these papers to the FDA first thing in the morning.”

Jeannine left. Aileen called her mother.

“Mom, would you feed Mary Catherine and get her to bed. I may be here all night.”

“Aileen, not again!”

“Sorry, Mom. I love you, and thanks!”

Aileen returned to work.

Gustav Slavik and Peter Zeleny left the Red Roof Inn in Peter’s rental car. Following Peter’s directions, Gustav drove steering with one hand and fingering his Makarov with the other.

“Peter, your father tells me you know the Makarov. That you used to shoot with him.”

Peter’s mouth was dry, he nodded.

“Good, Peter, good.”

Gustav had an extra Makarov tucked in his rear belt. The weapon wedged between the seat and his spine causing considerable discomfort. But the second gun was insurance. Karel’s men were everywhere.

“Peter, your father and I were barely twenty when Husak took over in 1968. We were young and strong. We served together, correcting weak members and enemies of the Party. Your father is a true comrade. You should be proud of him.”

Peter did not respond. Some things about his father he did not want to know.

They turned onto Bradley Boulevard. Jeannine’s house was only blocks away.

At the office of Ryan Associates, Aileen sat alone at her desk. Jeannine had not returned. A sudden gust of wind rattled the window.

Aileen looked out. The sun had set, and the tall trees in the wooded backyard kept what rays that remained from reaching the ground where dark matted leaves reflected no light at all.

She peered into the shadows. The tops of the tulip poplars waved erratically while the swirling wind cracked the stiff limbs and twisted the dry leaves free from their branches. A Gray Squirrel, disturbed by some danger on the ground, chattered and scrambled up the rough bark of a White Oak. On a high perch, a lone Fish Crow cawed an alarm and took flight.

Something or someone was behind the oak tree.

Aileen stepped to the door and threw the deadbolt just as motion-sensitive spot lights lit the yard.

In the sudden glow, she imagined that someone had jumped backwards into the shadows, out of reach of the artificial brightness, but in the dark it was impossible to distinguish among individual trees, much less a human form.

She stepped back from the door.
Aileen, stop imagining! Wind-blown branches must have triggered the lights.

But she heard a sound from the kitchen above. Footsteps sounded on the floor overhead.

Someone was in the house.

The footsteps reached the head of the stairway. Then the stairs squeaked.

Aileen shuddered and looked about. The door to the outside was deadbolted. She would lose precious seconds there. Besides, someone was outside, waiting.

She turned to her left. When the office was finished, that part of the basement with the hot-air furnace and water heater had been partitioned off. Through that door there was little shelter and no exit. The only other escape was up the stairs themselves, and that way was blocked by the intruder.

Desperate, her eyes darted about. There, slightly askew, was the plywood panel that fit over the storage area under the staircase. She crouched and squeezed herself in. Her back was wedged tight against the sharp shelf and her head was pressed against the underneath of the steps.

Fortunately, the quarter-inch plywood panel was rendered rigid by a wooden strip affixed to its back. Aileen gripped the strip with her fingers and pulled the panel shut after her. It fit tightly. No light squeezed through the edges.

She was secure. From the outside there was no indication that a human, even one cramped as she was, could fit behind that panel.

Directly above her, the wooden steps creaked under the weight of a man, someone large. She felt the wood sag against her skull.

Whoever had come down stopped.

Aileen held her breath.

Gustav stood at the foot of the stairs. Makarov in hand, he surveyed the empty office. Satisfied, he released the dead bolt and opened the door. He called into the woods.

“Come on in. There’s no one here.”

Peter moved into the light. Gustav lowered his Makarov and beckoned him inside. Gustav pointed to Aileen’s desk.

“Help me search. You start there.”

Gustav went to the lone file cabinet. He pulled out the top drawer and dumped its contents on the floor. He kicked through the loose papers. The two lower drawers were similarly upended. He snorted in disgust.

“There’s nothing of interest here. All these papers are the standard American size, ‘eight and a half by eleven.’ Vaclav’s papers would be narrower and longer, Hus-Kinetika would use A4-size European paper. Did you find anything?”

Peter looked up. He had emptied the drawers of Aileen’s desk. All her papers were likewise American-sized. He shook his head, “No.”

Gustav spoke again.

“Whose car is that parked in the back.”

“It belongs to Dr. Harris. She’s an associate here.”

Lodged in her cramped space, Aileen gasped.
Was that Peter’s voice?

Moments later Gustav removed any remaining doubt.

“Peter, if that’s her car, then where is she?”

Aileen bit her lip.
Damn you Peter Zeleny. What the hell are you doing? Who are you, really?

Gustav frowned. He took out a cigarette, but did not light it. He motioned Peter to silence and surveyed the office anew.
All right Miss Harris, where are you?

Gustav waved to Peter to search the furnace room.

In the dark, Aileen waited.

Cramped as she was, Aileen’s left thigh muscles twisted and contracted. She suppressed a moan, and squeezed the tightened mass, but the pain continued.

Outside she heard a door shut, and new steps sounded in the office. She deduced, correctly, that someone had come into the office from the furnace room.

She heard no voices, but footsteps sounded towards the outside door. These were followed by a loud slam. Then silence.

Aileen waited. She shifted her weight as best she could to alleviate the cramping. To no avail, her thigh muscle quivered in increasing tetanus. She gritted her teeth, held her breath, and listened.

Still only silence.

Finally, the pain was intolerable. She counted to ten. Still no noise came from the office.

Aileen decided. She pushed with all her strength against the panel. It sprung loose, and she tumbled head first onto the office floor.

The office was dark.

Aileen stretched her leg and sighed.

Her ordeal was over.

The office lights came on. She heard a harsh voice.

“Dr. Harris, I’m sure. Nice to see you. We need your help.”

Aileen looked up. A tall man stood over her. In his hand was a gun.

Behind him stood another man. Him, she knew.

Peter Zeleny!

Aileen stood up gingerly, favoring her sore leg. She tried to sound assertive, but her voice shook.

“You’d better leave now. The police are on the way.”

Gustav grinned at the woman who limped before him.

“Bravely spoken, Dr. Harris, but we both know that the police are not coming.”

His face reddened.

“Do not waste my time. I want the package you received from Vaclav. It is Peter’s.”

He pointed to Peter Zeleny who stood behind him and continued.

“It is not yours. Give it to me, now!”

Aileen spoke through tight lips.

“I have no package.”

“Come now, Dr. Harris. Of course you do!”

“Sorry, but I don’t.”

“Don’t trifle with me. Give it to me.”

Aileen set her lips. She did not reply. Gustav appeared to turn away. As he did so, he launched a looping back hand that slammed into the side of her face. She stumbled against the desk, but steadied herself. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth.

Gustav shouted.

“I have no time for foolishness. Where is it?”

She did not answer.

Gustav’s neck muscles bulged and his chest heaved. His face became scarlet. He hit her with his fist.

Her eyes glazed and she crumbled downwards. He pulled her up by her blouse. It ripped, exposing her bra. He shoved her against the wall and seized her throat. He shouted.

“Do not defy me! Where is it?”

She forced a whisper through cracked lips.

“I ... don’t ... know.”

Gustav glared. Aileen’s eyes rolled up. Her silence further enraged Gustav.

“Tell me where it is.”

Another forced whisper.

“No.”

Breathing heavily, Gustav reached for his Makarov. He held it to her forehead. He would settle this matter now!

“Where is it?”

Aileen shut her eyes.

Gustav’s finger tightened on the trigger.

No!

He seized the spare Makarov stuck in the belt at Gustav’s rear and swung with all his force at the back of Gustav’s head.

“Crunch.”

Gustav collapsed straight to the floor.

Peter lifted Aileen to her feet. She shrank back pulling the torn blouse over her exposed breast.

“Who the hell are you, Peter? Get away from me. Leave me alone.”

“Aileen, please. We have to go.”

He pointed to the fallen Gustav.

“Before he wakes up. Please.”

Aileen’s vision cleared. She saw the body on the floor.
My God! He was going to kill me!

The fingers of Gustav’s hand moved. They gripped the weapon. A reflex?

“Now Aileen, now! We must go. Come on.”

“With you? Never!”

Gustav stirred anew. Peter grabbed Aileen’s arm. She was limp. With his free hand he lifted her purse off the desk.

“Aileen, come with me. You can’t stay here.”

“Go to hell.”

But she was too weak to resist further.

Peter dragged her by the arm and she stumbled after him. He propped her in the passenger seat of her car and strapped her in. She slumped forward, her weight on the shoulder belt.

He went to the driver’s side and fumbled in her purse for the keys.

The motor started easily. He checked the gas gauge. There was lots of fuel.
Good.

Something poked his stomach. He looked down. After downing Gustav, he had unconsciously stuffed the extra Makarov in his belt. Bloodstained gray hairs were stuck on the handle. He bent and slid it under the seat.

He drove away.

They were just in time. A groggy Gustav emerged from the office. He shook his fist in the air and opened the door of the only remaining car, Peter’s rented Accord.

Peter risked a smile. The Accord’s tank was near empty. Even though Gustav still had the keys, he could not follow them.

He glanced at his passenger. Aileen’s eyes were closed tight.

He sighed. For the moment they were safe.

Parked several houses away, the two men in the gray Ford Excursion watched Peter and Aileen leave in the Accord. The passenger spoke.

“What do we do now? Should I finish off Gustav?”

“Not here and not now. Karel’s reinforcements are here in Bethesda too. Call them. They can take care of the old fool. He’s still dangerous.”

The driver reflected a moment then continued.

“We follow young Zeleny and the Harris woman. Gustav knows nothing that we don’t already know, but the Harris woman knows what’s in the package. And it was addressed to Zeleny. He will understand the contents.”

He was pleased with his logic.

“For sure, Zeleny and Harris are our best bet.”

They followed Aileen’s car at a distance.