The Alpha Deception (21 page)

No further words were exchanged. Natalya knew now that the route to Katlov would be long and intricate; the defector from Raskowski’s ranks was not about to take chances. The complexity was unnerving yet reassuring. Precautions had been taken. The chances of a run-in with the general’s people seemed substantially reduced.

The nameless samlor driver delivered her to Taa Phra Chan Pier. In the klong below sat endless rows of rickety boats with single drivers waiting for potential fares. They began beckoning to Natalya as soon as they saw her approach.

“I will handle everything, miss,” the driver whispered and led her to a boat near the end of the row. Its driver sat placidly in the stern with a straw hat tipped over his eyes.

“
Aye!”

The boatman pushed his straw hat back, and Natalya saw he had no front teeth. The samlor driver helped her down into the bow.

“Thonburi Floating Market,” he told the boatman in Thai. “And be quick about it.”

The boatman started to ease out from the pier, and minutes later they were drifting slowly south, their boat hugging the side to keep the center clear for larger boat traffic. Much of the city of Bangkok is crisscrossed by canals known as klongs, some as wide as a street, others barely two meters, and many marked for extinction by the demand for more roadways. Many of the klongs are lined by shops where the tourist can dock his boat at a private jetty. The klongs recede deep into the Thonburi district, where they finally reach the floating market: a collection of narrow skiffs packed to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables advertised with screams and shouts by the boat merchants seeking to sell them. Cheap jewelry and pottery are available as well.

In years past the floating market was a necessary element for survival in Bangkok. Locals did all their shopping there, and the ebb and flow of the economy was tied directly to the weather. But more recently it has become a tourist attraction more than anything else.

The Thonburi Market lies within a serpentine collection of narrower klongs in the northwest section of Bangkok. Natalya saw the first of the shops thirty minutes into the ride. If the weather had been better, boat traffic would have been as thick as a New York rush hour. The rain, though, had kept most tourists away, and Natalya’s boatman was able to easily negotiate through the waters.

The rain had slackened to barely a drizzle as Natalya’s boatman pulled to a halt next to an old woman selling an assorted collection of fresh vegetables. The boatman spoke with the old woman briefly, and she proceeded to pack one box full of her best merchandise.

“Baht 500,” her toothless driver called to Natalya.

She handed him the proper collection of bills and he exchanged them for the box of vegetables, stowing it just before Natalya as he swung his craft back around.

“Your next instructions are inside,” he said in English, not looking at her.

Natalya eased herself forward and removed the top of the box. When no note was immediately visible, she began to move the vegetables aside until a sheet of yellowed paper was revealed. She left it in the box as she read.

Dusit Hall of the Royal Palace.

Natalya sighed. The grounds of the Royal Palace were located back near Taa Phra Chan Pier, where she had embarked for the floating market. She was being run around in a circle, but she was in Katlov’s hands and subject totally to his whims.

The toothless boatman deposited her in almost the very spot he had picked her up, and Natalya walked the short distance to the Gate of Wonderful Victory from which a wide street led into the outer courtyard of the Royal Palace. There were more than a hundred individual buildings situated on the grounds, starting with a number of government-occupied ones. As she moved further into the complex, the buildings grew older and richer in history.

Dusit Hall was an art gallery located within Dusit Maham Prasad, an elegant white building. The hall was actually a large inner chamber, the only part of this building open to visitors. She walked about past the various paintings, murals, and statues, trying to keep herself patient. Suddenly a blue-suited Asian was at her side readying his camera before a massive painting.

“Your next stop is the Wat Phra Kaeo,” he said, regarding her briefly. “Go to the Chapel of the Emerald Buddha.”

The man snapped a series of pictures and moved on. Natalya turned and headed back for the door.

The Wat Phra Kaeo was the most sacred of all buildings in Thailand, accessible through a side gate from the palace courtyard. Natalya paid a separate admission and was immediately awed by what lay before her. The complex, with gold-layered domes and pillars of white marble, was like nothing else here. Its beauty lay in its simplicity, as if it had been built with humility but with great reverence to the spirit housed within.

Natalya passed down a long corridor lined with murals, at the end of which lay a staircase flanked by bronze lions. Visitors were requested to remove their shoes before proceeding up and Natalya complied. At the top, directly before the entrance to Buddha’s chamber, a larger pair of lions maintained their eternal vigil between golden pillars. Natalya walked between them and into the chamber.

Before her rose the pale-green jasper statue of Buddha. Beneath a nine-tier canopy, he was huge and breathtaking, garbed in his summer shoulder cloak and headpiece. The crowd in the chamber was small—just a few tourists circling about and a Buddhist monk kneeling on a cushion before the statue. Natalya paced leisurely around, finally drawing near the monk who turned his head toward her.

“Come closer.”

The words had been spoken in Russian!
Katlov!

“Kneel on one of the cushions,” he continued. “Act as if you’re praying,” he added when she was kneeling. “No, better yet, pray for real. The world could use it.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Natalya said softly, glancing over at Katlov’s face, which was framed by his orange robes. She saw he wore a patch over his left eye.

“Don’t look at me,” he ordered. “Keep your eyes on the Buddha. Lean over. Pray. Do it!”

Again Natalya obeyed, but her impatience got the better of her. She whispered, “Enough precautions.”

“No! With Raskowski, there can never be enough.” Katlov silenced himself as an American woman with twin daughters passed just behind them. “The general is everywhere in this city. Everything I’ve put you through today reflects that. Believe me, it was for both our sakes.”

“You have been with him from the beginning?”

“Yes, under the auspices of the Scientific Bureau working on the Alpha project. I had a different name back then, a different identity. He insisted I become who I am now when I followed him in exile.”

“Others followed him as well.”

“Yes, several. But many stayed behind to await the call. Besides those specifically connected with the scientific aspects of Alpha, no one else was
allowed
to leave. They can do more damage from within—once the time comes.”

“Raskowski gave the Americans three weeks to unilaterally disarm. Is that his timetable?”

“I don’t know. Only he does.”

“Were you always this frightened of him?”

“In awe, originally. He gave me a purpose in my work on the Alpha death ray, made me feel what I was accomplishing was crucial to the fulfillment of Soviet destiny.” Katlov paused. “It was spending so many hours close to him in the weeks prior to the initiation of the plan that made me see the truth.”

“Hope Valley made you see?”

“Was that the name of the American town we destroyed? My God, I’d forgotten it. I’m becoming as insensitive as the general.” Katlov gazed at her. “I joined him in his crusade because I honestly believed we were doing something noble. But lately I have come to see the general was only interested in doing what was best for himself. Our homeland means nothing to him, comrade. He will kill anyone who stands in the way of his plan. He will send his tanks rolling through Moscow if that’s what it takes to seize power.”

“Where can I find him?”

“I don’t know. Our meetings are always arranged by him. If I need to reach him there are drops, signals, but he never appears personally unless the advances come from him. This madness can still be stopped, though, by destroying his weapon.” Katlov paused. “You are familiar with the massive American early detection satellite
Ulysses,
launched six months ago?”

“Of course. But what—No, it can’t be!”

Natalya stopped. Katlov didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Raskowski
’
s death beam had been deployed aboard an American satellite!

“It was all accomplished through the Farmer Boy,” Katlov explained. “I don’t know the specifics, only the results. Once Raskowski was exiled it was the only means of getting his death ray into space. The Farmer Boy took care of all the scientific arrangements; complicated to be sure, but obviously worth it.”

“Then if the General Secretary can convince the President to deactivate
Ulysses,
it will be finished. He is in a position to deal from strength now. He’ll do it, I’m sure. This will all be over.”

“Not quite, because Raskowski will still be out there and only I can lead you to him.”

“I thought you said—”

“I have learned much from the general during the course of Alpha, comrade, including what to hold back and for how long. I have furnished you with the general’s death ray, but unless he, too, is dealt with, the weapon will surface again.” Katlov stopped as a man entered and began snapping pictures of the Buddha.

“So what do you want from me?” Natalya asked Katlov.

“Raskowski arranged resettlement of our families. It was a benevolent gesture, but as with everything the general does there was an ulterior motive. By resettling our families, he controls them and, accordingly, us. If we cross him, we will be punished with far more than the loss of our own lives. That was never stated, but the implications are there.” He paused to steady his voice. “Get my family to safety, comrade. Then and only then will I… .”

Katlov was still talking when Natalya recalled that no picture taking was permitted in this chamber. She turned toward the man behind them. He was drawing his gun in that instant. Natalya dove at Katlov and shoved him to the side, but it was too late. The man had already begun firing. She heard Katlov gasp as the bullets hit him.

“Traitor!” the killer shouted in Russian over the terrified screams of the other tourists who scrambled frantically for cover.

Natalya wasn’t sure whether the gunman was addressing her or Katlov’s corpse. She had whipped her pistol from her handbag and fired it just as the gunman turned his weapon on her. Natalya’s barked first; one bullet to the head, a second to the chest. The killer reeled briefly, then crumbled.

Natalya gazed fiercely around her. Procedure dictated a backup be present. Perhaps outside the chamber, though. She charged out before the cowering, still-screaming tourists recovered their senses enough to note her face. She had to move and keep moving. Somewhere more of Raskowski’s assassins would be waiting for her. She had to outthink as well as outrun them.

She slowed her pace only when she had reached the bottom of the stairs and replaced her shoes. Temple security personnel would be charging past her any second, alerted by gunshots and the witnesses who had escaped ahead of her. She had to be far off the grounds before news spread. She had what she needed.

Raskowski’s beam weapon had been deployed on board an American satellite!

But the general could be stopped now. She would contact the General Secretary, and he would contact the Americans.
Ulysses
would be deactivated. Out of near catastrophe, a new dialogue would be initiated.

Natalya left the grounds through a gate behind the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Back in the crowded streets, she felt safer. Her hotel was a brief walk from the grounds and walking was her safest means of travel now. She gave any of the gunman’s possible backups plenty of opportunities to move on her but none were taken. Still, she did not let herself think it could be finished this simply.

She slowed as she approached her hotel. Something was wrong, something she couldn’t identify at first. She continued to survey the scene as her pace slowed to a crawl.

The bellhops. Suddenly there were too many of them and few seemed interested in toting the bags of arriving or departing guests. Of course. Raskowski’s men hadn’t followed her from the Royal Palace because if she survived they knew where she would go.

Natalya couldn’t risk anything that would draw the eyes of the bellhops to her. She doubted any of these men knew her from anything but pictures. A subtle disguise would be effective.

She stooped her shoulders and bent slightly at the knees. The result was to make her appear older and shorter. If she kept her head down and walked without hesitation, the fake bellmen would have no reason to take notice.

She was never sure if they even looked at her because she kept her eyes down as she passed in front of the hotel and continued on. Other problems faced her. Her hotel possessed long-distance phone service with which she had intended to get word of her discovery to the General Secretary. She would need an alternative. The Post and Telegraph Department, as its name indicated, possessed mail and telegraph facilities in addition to phones. A wire sent in code to the proper drop point would get the news to Chernopolov in a matter of hours.

Up ahead, a pair of buses were approaching a stop. On impulse, Natalya dashed toward them. If she had been spotted upon passing the hotel, this would certainly tell her. She rushed forward as the buses squealed to a halt one behind the other and squeezed herself on. Looking behind her out the windows, she saw no one sprinting to give chase. The stampede of others pushing themselves on forced her into the center of the bus, pressed against bodies on all sides. Two stops later she climbed out and began walking the few remaining blocks to the Post and Telegraph Department. She found herself breathing easier.

The building was modern in design, almost western, and Natalya walked calmly inside. The telegraph windows were off to the right. There were counters complete with pads on which messages could be drafted. Natalya had the code memorized. She worked out the proper sequence for her message in her head and got the wording right on the first draft, double and triple-checking it just to be sure. She added the drop address from which it would reach the General Secretary directly and presented it with payment at one of the windows.