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Authors: Glenn Meade

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Snow Wolf (52 page)

BOOK: Snow Wolf
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"Then do so. And I'll need fresh
clothes."

The colonel picked up his baton again and
glared. "By the way, Lukin, for your information we alerted Moscow as to
your accident as a matter of courtesy. A Colonel Romulka phoned back. He said to
tell you he's on his way here by air force jet. He should be arriving within an
hour."

The colonel half smiled. "If it's
the same Colonel Romulka I think it is, he seemed rather interested in your
progress. Naturally, I could tell him nothing since we hadn't spoken."
Lukin said grimly, "Thank you."

The door closed.

The colonel waited until Lukin's
footsteps had receded down the hallway, then he flung his baton against the
wall in a rage. It bounced off the picture of Beria and clattered to the floor.

"The fucking jumped-up shit! Who the
hell does he think he is, talking to me like that?"

The adjutant looked suitably sympathetic.
"Who's this Romulka, sir?"

The telephone rang. The colonel picked it
up and snapped, "What the fuck is it?" He listened for several
moments, then said, "Have it brought to headquarters immediately,"
and slammed down the phone. The adjutant said, "More problems?"

"The militia found a car matching
the Emka abandoned in Udelnay. They're bringing the vehicle here."

The adjutant smiled. "So, we've made
a little progress?"

The colonel glared. "Hardly, you
idiot! The passengers could be anywhere by now. If they're not still traveling
in the car it only makes our work more difficult trying to find them. Go after
Lukin and tell him. And arrange everything he wants and fucking fast. The last
thing I need is that little shit Beria nosing up my ass."

Stanski wheeled the BMW into the middle
of the storeroom and climbed on. He pulled on the helmet and goggles and wore
the stinking heavy winter coat Vladimir had given him. Anna wore two sets of
clothes under her coat to keep out the cold and their small suitcases were
strapped to the carrier at the rear.

She climbed on and put her arms around
Stanski's waist.

"You have the map?" Stanski
asked.

"In my bra."

He laughed. "Whatever you do don't
lose it or we're in trouble."

He nodded to Vladimir who stood by the
door. "Ready when you are."

"Don't forget to take the route
through the city I told you about. And take it easy until you reach the main
Baltic highway. Breaking the speed limit won't help matters. The last thing you
want is to be chased by a militia patrol car with a wailing siren."

Stanski nodded. "Wish us luck."
He kicked the starter arm and the BMW came to life, the engine purring solidly
under them.

Vladimir opened the door and then Stanski
throttled the engine and kicked the machine into gear, but didn't release the
clutch.

Vladimir went out into the street,
looking left and right to check that there were no militia about before
signaling for them to move out. Stanski drove out through the mouth of the
archway.

Vladimir slapped Anna on the shoulder.
"Go. And may the devil ride with you both."

The BMW roared off into the night. There
was a crunch of gears as Stanski slowed and changed down, and then they drove
at a leisurely speed along the Moika Canal.

Vladimir watched anxiously as the red
taillight disappeared toward the Nevsky Prospect, then he went back and turned
off the storeroom light and padlocked the door, before going up to his flat.

As soon as he was inside he opened the
bottle of vodka and poured a large glass.

He wondered what the man and woman were
up to in Moscow?

Still, it didn't really matter. After
what they had told him and the man's lack of skill on the BMW he doubted they'd
ever make it. Just so long as they didn't incriminate him.

He shivered slightly at the prospect.

As he thought of the couple he lifted the
glass in a toast and said, "Good luck, you poor bastards," and
swallowed the vodka in one gulp.

A female doctor dressed Lukin's arm.

They were in a large room on the second
floor which the adjutant had organized, and already uniformed personnel were
setting up telephones and a powerful radio transmitter.

The doctor gave him a mild shot of
morphine, Lukin insisting that the injection not be so strong as to make him
drowsy and unable to concentrate. Then the woman basted a foul-smelling green
ointment onto his stump to ease the pain, and after dressing the wound she
pinned back the sleeve of the fresh tunic an orderly had brought.

The doctor was young and pretty with
gentle hands.

She smiled. "You're as good as new,
Major. The wound isn't too bad, but you'll need to have a surgeon examine your
stump. The morphine and bandage are only a temporary fix. Some of the burned
flesh may have to be cut away. You were lucky. You have no other injuries apart
from bruising and a large bump on the back of your head. Your skull seems to
have suffered no really serious damage but I'd like to take an X-ray, just to
be certain."

Lukin winced as the woman examined the
back of his skull again.

"Another time, but thank you,
Doctor."

The woman sighed and looked up as a man
carrying several telephones and a roll of cable brushed past.

"As you wish. I can see you're a
busy man. Do you mind telling me what's going on here?"

Lukin didn't reply as he looked at his
arm and the foldedback sleeve. The false hand was bad enough but now he really
did look like a cripple. He had a spare he kept in his desk, a crude affair
with a metal hook on the end which he had first worn some months after he had
been wounded, until his stump had healed enough for a proper prosthesis. it
would have to wait until he got to Moscow.

Suddenly the door burst open and Romulka
appeared, wearing an overcoat slung loosely over his shoulders, a swagger cane
in his leather-gloved hand.

"There you are, Lukin. The adjutant
told me I'd find you here. Still alive after your mishap, I see." He
jerked his thumb ignorantly at the lady doctor and said, "You-get
out."

The woman took one look at Romulka's
frightening presence in the black uniform, packed up her black bag and scurried
out. The other men setting up the equipment in the room took the hint and
followed her.

Romulka pulled up a chair and sat. He lit
a cigarette and looked around the room.

"They seem to be looking after you,
I see. I've spoken with the colonel in charge. A car has been found, I
believe." He glanced at Lukin's arm. "Tell me what happened."

Lukin told him. When he had finished,
Romulka grinned maliciously. "Not a very promising start, was it, Lukin?
You let the couple slip from your grasp. Comrade Beria won't like that."
Lukin said shortly, "Why are you here?"

"This case is my responsibility too,
or had you forgotten?

I'm here to assist you and ensure your
health is sufficient to continue."

"It is. And if you've come to gloat
over what happened, I can do without that kind of help."

Romulka stood, towering above Lukin.
"Let's cut out the fencing, Lukin. I may be here on Beria's orders but I
want you to know I also have a personal interest in this case. The woman
especially." He tapped Lukin's chest with his stick. "As soon as
she's caught I want to interrogate her, you understand that?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm in
charge. If she's caught alive, I decide who interrogates her."

Romulka's eyes narrowed in an icy stare.
"I suggest you don't cross me, Lukin. Life wouldn't be worth living."

Lukin looked at the mess of equipment in
the room and nodded toward the door. "I'm busy, Romulka. There's work to
be done. Is there anything else you wish to say before you leave?"

Romulka grinned. "Actually there is.
Another aspect to the investigation I thought you ought to know about.
Unfortunately I won't be remaining in Leningrad. I'm leaving the pursuit in
your hands. It is after all your apparent specialty, though I'm hardly inspired
by the evidence so far. I have other pressing matters to attend to."

"What matters?"

"In case you failed to realize it,
Lukin, it struck me the Americans would need someone in Moscow to help them.
Possibly some person or persons to aid their escape once the deed is done,
which it won't be if you do your job."

"I didn't fail to realize it. But
what of it?"

Romulka removed a sheet of paper from his
pocket and handed it across.

"What's this?"

"A list of names. Foreigners who,
because of important business interests vital to the state, are allowed to come
and go in Moscow virtually unchecked."

Lukin examined the list. Almost all were
European businessmen, with the exception of two Turkish gold dealers and a
Japanese oil buyer. He looked up. "What are you suggesting?"

"One name on the list particularly
interests me. A man named Henri Lebel. A French fur dealer."

"I know of him."

"Then perhaps you'll know that
during the war he was a member of the Communist Resistance branch in
Paris."

"I didn't, but go on."

"The man has considerable liberties
in Moscow because of his trading status and monetary contributions to the
French Communist Party. But that's about to change."

"What do you intend?"

Romulka smirked. "I've a feeling
about Lebel. He isn't due in Moscow for another three days, but we can get
around that considering the urgency of this matter."

"How?"

"Our friends in Paris can arrange
it. We question him, discreetly. If he knows nothing, we let him go on his
way." . "Presumably unharmed? The man is a suspect, not a
culprit."

Romulka grinned. "That depends on
how cooperative he is. If he's innocent, he has nothing to fear. But there's
something to consider that implicates him."

"What?"

"We know he had connections through
the resistance to the man named Massey who was involved in organizing the
American mission."

Lukin thought for a moment, and nodded.
"Very well. But I suggest you proceed with this cautiously. No doubt Lebel
has important connections in Moscow and we don't want any embarrassment."

Romulka took the list and slipped it back
into his pocket "Whether you agree or not, Lukin, the matter of this
Frenchman is my responsibility. It's already been agreed to by Beria Besides, I
have a feeling about Lebel. I assure you I won't be proved wrong."

Romulka turned toward the door and
glared. "One more thing, Lukin. I meant what I said about the woman.
Remember that. Do keep up the good work."

He laughed as he went through the door
just as the adjutant came in, almost knocking the man over.

The startled adjutant said to Lukin,
"A friend of yours, sir?"

"Hardly. Well, have you any
news?"

"Nothing positive from any of the
checkpoints. We're scouring the neighborhood where the car was found and
alerting block janitors. We've also questioned people living in the area as to
whether they saw a couple resembling the one we're looking for, but so far no
one saw anything. As for the car, it was brought here ten minutes ago, but
there was nothing in it of interest or that could have belonged to the couple.
No blood on the seats to suggest you wounded anyone either. Our patrol
recovered the body of the pilot in the woods, also the missing colonel. He was
buried in a shallow grave nearby. He'd been shot through the head, I'm
afraid."

Lukin sighed. "What about the
hotels?"

"Most have been checked, and we're
working on the others. So far any persons remotely resembling the ones we're
looking for have had their identities and backgrounds thoroughly
investigated."

"And?"

A smile flickered on the adjutant's face.
"All we got was a divisional major sleeping with an adjutant's wife in the
Kremski Hotel and a couple of homosexual army officers caught in a compromising
position in a flea-ridden hotel near the Finland Station. I could go on, but I
won't bore you with such unimportant details."

Lukin ignored the flippant remark and
crossed to a map on the wall. The adjutant followed.

""We've also drafted another
two thousand men, including army personnel, and done everything you've asked,
Major. Field radios were issued and linked to the transmitter we've installed
here and another in the exchange in the basement. I've got people standing by
the radio and telephones there also. The pins on the map indicate where we've
set up checkpoints. Now all we have to do is wait until something turns
up," Lukin stared at the wall map for a few moments. "Something
wrong, Major?"

Lukin looked back absentmindedly.
"Something just occurred to me. The roads you've placed checkpoints on,
they're all leading north, south or east of the city."

"That's so, Major."

BOOK: Snow Wolf
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