Snow Wolf (33 page)

They were comfortably furnished with
simple pine beds, an oil lamp and locker beside each; but the rooms smelled
unpleasantly of must and salty sea air. When they went downstairs ten minutes
later, Saarinen had got the electric generator going and made coffee.

In the kitchen a single light was on
overhead, and a couple of maps were spread out on the table, showing the
southern coast of Finland and the western coasts of Russia and the Baltic
Countries in detail. On one Saarinen had marked the intended flight route with
a red pen.

He smiled. "The house isn't exactly
the Helsinki Palace, I'm afraid, and the salt smell can't be helped, but it's
just for one night. Right, now to business. The Crossing shouldn't take more
than thirty-five minutes, forty at the outside, depending on any head winds we
might meet after we take off from here."

He pointed to the map and the red curved
line he had drawn which ran from Bylandet Island to a point across the Baltic
Sea'just outside Tallinn, Estonia. "From the island here to the drop point
near Tallinn it's exactly seventy@five miles. A snap, really, if things go
according to plan."

Anna looked at him. "Where's the
runway on the island?" Saarinen shook his head and grinned. "There
isn't one. The aircraft is fitted with skis so we can take off from the ice.
Don't worry, it may be a tiny bit bumpy to start with but you'll hardly notice
the difference." Massey said, "What about the latest weather
reports?"

Saarinen smiled, a rakish smile.
"According to the Helsinki office, it couldn't be better for a covert
drop. Strong winds tonight, followed by a heavy cold front with @ a threat of
some cumulonimbus cloud across parts of the Gulf of Finland, possibly down to a
thousand feet from five, expected by tomorrow evening. That kind of cloud can
give snow and hail and even thunderstorms, and we'll have to try and avoid the
worst of it, if that's possible."

He shrugged. "Flying through heavy
snow cloud isn't a pleasant way to travel for the passengers because it can get
pretty rolling up there, only it's less likely the Soviets will have their Migs
patrolling the airspace in such extreme conditions, but of course I can't
guarantee that. Let's just say I'd be optimistic." He smiled again,
looking- as if he were actually about to enjoy the bad-weather flying and the
danger involved.

Stanski lit a cigarette. "Isn't that
taking a risk, flying in such bad weather? besides other aircraft?"

"I'm not worried about getting blown
out of the sky by the latest military jet fighter in clear weather. Those
machines are the fastest thing in the skies, even faster than anything the
Americans have got right now."

"But the way I Understand it, in
really bad snow, the Mig pilots keep above the cloud because they're not yet
fully used to operating the new on-board radar. However, there's a radar unit
at the airbase itself, another in the main Soviet Army headquarters in Tondy
barracks, just outside Tallinn, and yet positioned in the old town in a tower,
Saint Olaus; next to the local KGB headquarters. probably the tallest point in
the town. Between the three of them they keep the patrolling guards
informed." He smiled. "On a clear day I believe the post in the church
can pick up the BUZZ of a wasp. But on a bad one, with snow and hail, the
Soviet radar units often can't discriminate between a target and the clutter
produced on their Screens by the weather. That's where really bad conditions
help us. But anyway I'm going to stay as low as I can within the cloud to avoid
being picked up on their screens. The real risk, however, is once we come out
of the cloud briefly for the drop zone. There's a chance we'll be noticed by
their radar and Ivan will get interested. That's why I've got to find the
target quickly and drop you. But at that stage, it would really be my problem,
and nothing for YOU to worry about, Even if Ivan did respond, you'd have
parachuted by then and with luck I'd be on the homeward leg."

Massey crossed to the window and looked
out at the frozen bay. Up here in the north he knew a man was lucky if he saw a
couple of days of weak sunshine in winter. The twilight had a depressing
effect. He looked back at Saarinen. '['he man was a very capable pilot, but he
was also plainly crazy to be so enthusiastic, considering the dangers. Massey
wondered if some of the shrapnel in his leg had lodged in his brain as well.

"OK, Jan, so what's the schedule'?
When can we get under way?"

Saarinen sat on the edge of the table.
"The cloud is expected due southeast of here by eight tomorrow night. If
the weather boys are right, it should give us cover as far as the coast of
Estonia. If we leave at twenty-thirty, then according to my prediction we
should meet the cloud about twenty miles out on the coast. The route -we take
is this." He pointed to the red line on the map. "Almost straight
across the Baltic to the drop area. I know the frequencies of the Russian
beacons and I can use them for more exact navigational reference when we get
near Tallinn so I can pick up the drop reference."

Massey frowned. "And what happens if
the weather really is bad, like you say?"

"Don't worry. I'll pick it up. I can
go in low, to within five hundred feet of' the ground if necessary. I should be
able to make out the lights of Tallinn once we're out of the Cloud. And the
terrain profile is pretty flat around there so hopefully we're not going to
bump into any mountains when we're flying blind in Cloud. Right, any more
questions?" No one spoke and Saarinen smiled broadly. "Good, that
must mean you trust me."

He swun" his leg off the table and
said to Massey, "Come on, I'll show your friends the little beauty that's
going to take them into the jaws of hell."

Saarinenen led them out across the wooden
promenade to the hangar.

It was @ a converted boat shed, and there
were two sets of double wooden doors, one each at the front and rear of the
building. Saarinen swung them both open to reveal a short, stoicly-looking single-engine
aircraft with high wins, painted all white. It had no markings and its landing
wheels had been replaced with combination skis and wheels, so that it could
take off' and land on ice or a runway. The engine cowling @and propeller had a
thick woollen blanket thrown over them. Saarinen ran a hand lovingly over the
edge of the starboard wing "A beauty, isn't she'? The Norseman C-64 light
transporter, Canadian design, as used by the American Air Force during the war.
I picked her up for next to nothing at a military surplus auction in Hamburg.
She's ideal for cross country flying and can fly at a hundred and forty knots
with up to eight passengers. But in these temperatures she needs to be looked
after like a baby. You've got to keep the engine warm, turning it over several
times a day, otherwise the oil freezes and the engine metal cracks from severe
cold."

He looked at his watch. "Almost time
Better stand well back."

They stood well beyond the open rear
doors of the hangar and Saarinen pulled off the heavy blanket over the engine
propeller. He hefted himself with relative ease into the cockpit swinging his
false leg in last. He started the engine, pulled the throttle and idled for ten
minutes before closing down the engine and climbing out.

"Well, that's it for another four
hours. Now it's time to get myself warm. Like most sensible Finns at this or
@any other ding this godforsaken winter, I'm going to have a couple of stiff
drinks to keep myself from cracking up and my blood freezing. Care to join me inside?"
Massey said, "Sounds like a good idea."

He looked over at Stanski and Anna. There
was a slight grin forming at the corners of his mouth. He looked like a caged
animal anxious to be let loose. Anna appeared calm, but he could sense her
readiness.

Stanski said, @"Thanks for the
offer, Janne, but not this time." He looked at Massey.

"What's next on the agenda?"

"We'll go over the weapons, clothes
and papers for Everything you need for the drop and afterwards. But in the
meantime, there's nothing to do but wait."

"Then how about I take Anna for a
little diversion?"

"What kind of diversion had you got
in mind?"

"A drive into Helsinki and back, if
we could borrow Janne's car."

He looked over at Saarinen. "How
about it, Janne?"

The Finn shrugged. "It's OK by me."
He found the ke the Volvo and tossed them to Stanski. "Just watch the
roads they're pretty icy this time of year. And don't hit the alcohol before
you drive back. It's about the only thing the police are strict about in these
parts." Massey said to Stanski, "OK, but I want you both back by
nine, no later."

"A last taste of freedom before we
go. Jake, I think you owe us the price of a good dinner."

Massey took out his wallet and handed
Stanski some Finnish marks. "I reckon you're right. Compliments of Washington.
Don't get lost on me, either of you. And be careful, for God's sake."

Washington, D.C. February 24th It was
_just before 2 A.M. and raining hard as the unmarked black Ford sedan drew Up
Outside the rear entrance to the White House.

As the three passengers climbed out,
Secret Service men led them briskly through to the Oval Office.

President Eisenhower was already seated
behind his desk, wearing a dressing gown, his face looking tired and drawn, and
he stood briefly as the three men were ushered into the room. "Take a
seat. Coffee's on the table if anyone's interested."

There was a pot of steaming coffee and a
tray of cups on a side table but no one bothered to touch the refreshment.
Lights from the city arc lamps outside blazed beyond the tinted windows onto
the expansive lawns. There was an air of anxious restlessness as the men sat.

Allen Welsh Dulles, the Acting Director
of the CIA, took the chair next to Eisenhower. Appointed Director only six
weeks previously, and not to be sworn into office for another four days, the
sixty-year-old Dulles was to be the CIA's first professional director, but
neither looked nor behaved like one.

A big, wide-shouldered New Yorker with
rumpled white hair and a mustache, he had an easy manner and a taste for partygoing.
That early morning, however, his face appeared tense and there was no sign of
the charming seductiveness for which he was noted. A distinguished intelligence
chief, he had led America's OSS in Europe from his wartime base in Switzerland,
being responsible for secret missions into Nazi Germany and, more notably,
Operation Sunrise, the srender of all German troops by SS General Karl Woll'f
in the last and bloody stages of the war in Italy.

Normally a calm and relaxed man, that
February morning Dulles seemed a bundle of nerves.

The other two men in the room were the
Assistant Director of the Soviet Division, William G. Wallace, and Karl
Branigan, the Special Operations Chief. Both men sat facing Eisenhower's desk,
and both, like Dulles, looked tense and restless.

It was exactly two when Eisenhower opened
the meeting, in a voice raw from sleep and a lifetime of too many cigarettes.

"You had better begin, Allen. It's
bad enough being woken at one-thirty A.M., so let's not waste any more
time."

Dulles leaned forward and formally
introduced the other two men present. "Mr. President ... the Assistant
Director of the Soviet Division you know already."

The Assistant Director nodded to
Eisenhower. "Mr. President ..."

"Good to see you, Bill."
Eisenhower frowned and smiled slightly. "Or maybe not, as the case may
be."

"Sir, this is Karl Branigan,"
Dulles went on quickly, "Soviet Division's Special Operations Chief."

Branigan raised himself briefly from his
chair, but Eisenhower indicated with a wave that he should remain seated.
"Relax, Mr. Branigan, we don't stand on formality at two A.M. in the White
House. Right, Allen, let's get to it. I presume this isn't going to be good
news?"

Branigan sat down again as Dulles cleared
his throat. "Sir, I believe we have a major problem."

"I already gathered that from your
call," Eisenhower said sharply.

Dulles placed a red folder in front of
Eisenhower. It was stamped "For President's Eyes Only."

"Mr. President, sir, as of this
moment we believe Moscow may be aware of our intention in regard to Operation
Snow Wolf."

At once Eisenhower reacted. There was a
look of alarm on his face and he instantly paled. "You're certain about
this?"

"As certain as we can be."

Eisenhower sighed deeply and ran a hand
across the back of his neck as if to ease a growing tension in himself. He said
softly, "Jesus Christ."

The anger showed instantly on his face as
he stared over at the other two men in the room, then back at Dulles. "You
mind telling me how in God's name one of the most sensitive, topsecret
operations your department's ever handled has been blown? What in goddamned
hell's gone wrong?"

Dulles opened the file and shakily handed
it to Eisenhower. "Inside you'll find all the details, Mr. President. But
I'll run through them to save time. At exactly ten-thirty last night a
diplomatic attache named Kislov from the Soviet UN Mission in New York boarded
a plane for London, with onward connections to Moscow. As you might expect,
Kislov is no attache-he's the KGB station head in New York. He had with him a
diplomatic bag. We believe it contained information from a copy of a secret
file we had given Massey on Stalin's personal information and habits."