Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: #General, #Action & Adventure, #Espionage, #Fiction
Three blocks away from the embassy Jake
told Toad to stop. They searched the car as
traffic whizzed by and the exhaust fumes wafted about
them. Not much wind today, drat it.
They opened the hood and examined everything as a
crowd of pedestrians gathered, probably
attracted by their white uniforms. The two naval
officers ignored the curious Russians. It
took them five minutes to identify all the wires
of the electrical system to their satisfaction.
They opened the trunk and lifted out the spare tire
and scrutinized every square inch and cranny. Toad
put the blanket on the pavement and wormed under the
car while Jake opened his pocketknife and took
off the door panels. He probed the seat
cushions and sliced open the roof liner. They peeled
back the carpet on the floor.
Nothing.
When they started the car again they sat staring at the
traffic zipping by and the onlookers on the sidewalk,
who were drifting away one by one.
con”You’d think if there was a bug in this thing we’d
find it, Toad said with disgust in his voice.
Maybe.” You could never prove a negative to a
certainty. All you could do was try to determine the
probability.
“Miserable goddamn country,” Toad
growled.
After a few moments Jake said, “If anything
happens to me, I’d like you to do me a favor.”
Toad waited.
con’Kill Herb Tenney.”
,ccThat,” Toad said with heat, “will be a real
pleasure.”
Better be quick about it. I’ve got a feeling that
if I die you’re going to be knocking on the pearly
gate very soon thereafter.”
Toad put the car into gear and pulled away from the
curb.
They parked in front of the Hotel
Metropolitan amid the taxicabs, right around the
corner from Red Square.
Jake left Toad with the car and went inside.
“I wish to speak with one of your guests, an
American named Jack Yocke.” And since the
man nodded politely, Jake added,
“Pashah’Ista. was Please.
con’allyaw-key?”
“That’s right.” Jake spelled it.
As the desk attendant consulted his files
Jake surveyed the lobby. He had visited the
embassy public affairs office earlier
that morning and had gotten the name of Yocke’s hotel
from the file. He had looked it up himself so the clerk
would not see what name he wanted. He felt
foolish, paranoid.
“Here it is,” the desk man said, straightening from
the files. “I will telephone him.” The clerk
looked natty in a dark suit and tie.
Apparently these folks were going after those hard
dollars with a vengeance. Jake nodded and went over
to one of the plush chairs on the other side of the room
to wait. Several of the tourists in line at the counters
stared at him. A white uniform certainly had an
effect.
Three minutes later the elevator door opened
and Jack Yocke stepped out.
He was visibly surprised when he saw Jake
Grafton. He came over smiling and stopped in
front of Jake with his hands held out to his sides.
“Clean and sober, Admiral. In the flesh.”
He shook Jake’s outstretched hand. “How goes
the war effort?”
“Off the record?”
Yocke laughed. “You’re the last man on earth
I expected to see around here.”
“I came to see Lenin. I hear
they’re selling the body to some outfit in Arizona.”
“Yep. Gonna put the old boy on display
right near the London Bridge in Lake Havasu
City. Five bucks a head.
Old ladies from Moline in stretch polyester and
tennis shoes will be filing by the coffin whispering,
‘Well, I never!”
his
“Toad’s out in the car. How about coming outside for a
minute or two for a chat?”
You had to hand it to Yocke. He didn’t even
blink.
“Sure,” he said.
“So how’s the foreign correspondent gig
going?” Toad asked Yocke when they were seated in the
car.
“I don’t know how I’m holding up,” Yocke
said sadly.
“Every day three or four beautiful women, not
less than a quart of vodka, meals fit for a czar
or local party chief, a ballet or-was
“We’ve got a little problem,” Jake said
firmly, interrupting the litany, “that we thought you
might be able to help with. It’s an
I’ll-never-tell type of problem.”
“No story?”
“Not even a whisper.”
Yocke snorted. “Do you know how damn tough it
is to get a story in this Cyrillic borsch house?
I’ve had exactly one, yesterday, when someone
snuffed Yegor Kolokoltsev.”
“We heard about that. Five gunmen in Soviet
Square?”
“I was there on the fifty-yard line, six rows
back, Just lucky, I guess.
I’ve been upstairs writing it up for the Sunday
paper, three thousand sensitive, powerful words that would
melt the heart of a crack salesman.
The story is what I saw and a bunch of denials
from the Russian cops, No, they did not know
Kolokoltsev was going to speak. No, they did not
keep the police away. That’s about it. Lots of
on7scene detail and a bunch of denials.”
“So,” Jake asked curiously, “were they in
on it?”
“Something smells, that’s for sure. No police
or military in the square. Five gunmen drill
Kolokoltsev and all his bodyguards. They
looked like they were shooting an army qualification
course. Just pros punching holes in a
professional manner. Then they dropped the guns and
walked away. No haste, no waste.”
“It’s the wrong feel,” Toad objected. “The
Russians don’t do things that way.” He was about
to add something when Grafton silenced him with a glance.
The admiral asked Yocke, “What about that big
story that you were so full of back in Washington? People
stealing nukes and selling them?”
“Can’t smoke it out. The people who were supposed to know
something just laughed when I showed up with my letters of
introduction and asked.
All rumors. So I’m doing features and
listening to would-be dictators preach
antiSemitic, fascist poison. I was just
lucky to witness a rubout that would make a great
movie. BFD.- Jake knew what that
meant-Big Fucking Deal.
“Jack, I need to ask a favor. Call your
editor and have him deliver a message in person
to General Land.”
con’This is supposed to make me laugh, right?”
“No joke,” Jake told him. “Obviously
I don’t want to use any of the telephones at the
embassy, encrypted or otherwise. Nor the
embassy’s message circuits. And I
don’t want General Land talking on a
telephone in his office, home or car.”
“Why not?”
“Yes or no.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No, Jack, I don’t. I just want you
to say yes.”
“Who don’t you want listening in? The overseas
lines all bounce off the bird in the sky. Great
connection-sounds better than the phone at home-but the
people in the telephone office are undoubtedly KGB
to a man. You can bet your ass they tape every call.
Of course the KGB has a new name, the Foreign
Intelligence Service, but a turd by any other name
is still a turd. Ten dollars against a ruble they’ll
be routing a transcript in Cyrillic around
Dzerzhinsky Square before you get back on the
sidewalk.”
Jake said nothing.
“So you want to be overheard, huh? By the
KGB. Or you don’t care.”
Yocke writhed in his seat. He glared at both
of them. “You knew I’d say yes, Admiral.
Now figure out what I’m going to tell my
editor.”
Jake Grafton pursed his lips. “I’m
assuming that this will be a tight little secret over at the
Post.”
“Like Ted Kennedy’s spring vacation plans,”
Yocke replied sourly. “You realize that if the
KGB wants to know more they will pay me a visit and
sweat me.”
“if you have your health . . . was Toad Tarkington
said, and gave Yocke a wide grin. “Jack,
I’ll never understand you, Where’s your sense of
adventure? The KGB might put you against a wall
and shoot you. You’ll be famous, If they just rip out
all your fingernails and throw you out of the country the
Post will probably give you a raise.”
“You macho pinhead! These Russians don’t do
walls or blindfolds or last cigarettes. No
melodrama. They snatch you on the street,
strangle you in the car and stuff you into a hote
someplace out in the woods so no one else on
God’s green earth will ever know what became of you.
Without muss or fuss you just cease to be. Cease
to be anything! These people have ruled this country with terror
for seventy years and they are real goddamn good at
it. If you aren’t pissing yourself when you think about them
you’re a congenital idiot. There ain’t no
rules but theirs and they get a story in this
Cyrillic borsch house? I’ve had exactly
one, yesterday, when someone snuffed Yegor
Kolokoltsev.
“We heard about that. Five gunmen in Soviet
Square?”
“I was there on the fifty-yard line, six rows
back. Just lucky, I guess. I’ve been
upstairs writing it up for the Sunday paper, three
thousand sensitive, powerful words that would melt the
heart of a crack salesman. The story is what
I saw and a bunch of denials from the Russian
cops. No, they did not know Kolokoltsev was
going to speak. No, they did not keep the police
away. That’s about it. Lots of on-scene detail
and a bunch of denials.”
“So,” Jake asked curiously, “were they in
on it?”
“Something smells, that’s for sure. No police
or military in the square. Five gunmen drill
Kolokoltsev and all his bodyguards. They
looked like they were shooting an army qualification
course. Just pros punching holes in a
professional manner. Then they dropped the guns and
walked away. No haste, no waste.”
“It’s the wrong feel,” Toad objected. “The
Russians don’t do things that way.” He was about
to add something when Grafton silenced him with a glance.
The admiral asked Yocke, “What about that big
story that you were so full of back in Washington? People
stealing nukes and selling them?”
“Can’t smoke it out. The people who were supposed to know
something just laughed when I showed up with my letters of
introduction and asked.
All rumors. So I’m doing features and
listening to would combe dictators preach
antiSemitic, fascist poison. I was just
lucky to witness a rubout that would make a great
movie. BFD.” Jake knew what that
meant-Big Fucking Deal.
“Jack, I need to ask a favor. Call your
editor and have Will deliver a message in person
to General Land.”
“This is supposed to make me laugh, right?”
“No joke,” Jake told him. “Obviously
I don’t want to use any of the telephones at the
embassy, encrypted or otherwise. Nor the
embassy’s message circuits. And I don’t
want General Land talking on a telephone in his
office, home or car.”
Why not9″
“Yes or no.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“No, Jack, I don’t. I just want you
to say yes.”
“Who don’t you want listening in? The overseas
lines all bounce off the bird in the sky. Great
connection-sounds better than the phone at home-but the
people in the telephone office are undoubtedly KGB
to a man. You can bet your ass they tape every call.
Of course the KGB has a new name, the Foreign
Intelligence Service, but a turd by any other name
is still a turd. Ten dollars against a ruble they’ll
be routing a transcript in Cyrillic around
Dzerzhinsky Square before you get back on the
sidewalk.”
Jake said nothing.
“So you want to be overheard, huh? By the
KGB. Or you don’t care.”
Yocke writhed in his seat. He glared at both
of them. “You knew I’d say yes, Admiral.
Now figure out what I’m going to tell my
editor.”
Jake Grafton pursed his lips. “I’m
assuming that this will be a tight little secret
over at the Post.”
“Like Ted Kennedy’s spring vacation plans,”
Yocke replied sourly. “You realize that if the
KGB wants to know more they will pay me a visit and
sweat me.”
“If you have your health . . . was Toad
Tarkington said, and gave Yocke a wide grin.
“Jack, I’ll never understand you. Where’s your sense
of adventure? The KGB might put you against a
wall and shoot you. You’ll be famous! If the
country the Post will probably give you a raise.”
they just rip out all your fingernails and throw you out of
“You macho pinhead! These Russians don’t do
walls or blindfolds or last cigarettes. No
melodrama. They snatch you on the street,
strangle you in the car and stuff you into a hole
someplace out in the woods so no one else on
God’s green earth will ever know what became of you.
Without muss or fuss you just cease to be. Cease
to be anythingf These people have ruled this country with terror
for seventy years and they are real goddamn good at
it. If you aren’t pissing yourself when you think about them
you’re a congenital idiot. There ain’t no rules
but theirs and they keep changing them all the time. This
ain’t good ol” Iowa, Frogface.”
Toad grinned at the admiral and jerked his thumb
at Yocke. “You may find this hard to believe, but
I’m beginning to like this guy.”
Yocke wasn’t paying attention. Already he was
trying to figure out how to explain this to his editor.
He looked at his watch. It was 2 A.m.
in Washington. He he would call Gatler at
home again. Mike was going to be thrilled.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Toad suggested.
“For some reason I’m hungry.”
Jake nodded.
“Well, there’s a good hard currency
restaurant with big prices up the street at the
Savoy and a slightly more modest one here at the
Metropolitan. It’s all Russian grub and the
city water system is contaminated, unfit for
human consumption. It’s Russian
roulette-radioactive beef and milk and
vegetables full of heavy metals-spin the cylinder
and pull the trigger.” He sighed. “I know you want
to treat, so you pick.”
“Here,” Jake said. Toad killed the engine and
they climbed out. “But we call your editor first.”