Triple (26 page)

Ken Folleff

masturbation, group sex. If you didn't perform, you were flogged or shot.

Thafs why the story never came out after the war, do you see? Because all

the survivors were guilty."

Suza stroked him harder. She was certain, without knowing why, that this

was the right thing to do. 'Tell me. All of it."

He was breathing faster. His eyes opened and he stared up at the blank

white ceiling, seeing another place and another time. "At the end . . .

the most shameful of all ... she was a nun. At first I thought they were

lying to me, they had just dressed her up, but then she started praying,

in French. She had no legs ... they had amputated her, just to observe

the effect on me... it was horrible, and I... and I.. ."

I Then he jerked, and Suza bent and closed her mouth over his penis, and

he said, "Oh, no, no, nol" in rhythm with his spasms, and then it was all

over and he wept.

She kissed his tears, and told him it was all right over and over agaiii.

Slowly he calmed down, and eventually he seemed to sleep for a few

minutes. She lay there watching his face as the tension seeped away and

he became peacefuL Then he opened his eyes and said, 'Ttrhy did you do

that?"

Well.- At that time she had not understood exactly why, but now she

thought she did. "I could have given you a lecture," she said. "I could

have told you that there is nothing to be ashamed of; that everybody has

grisly fantasies, that women dream of being flogged and men have visions

of flogging them; that you can buy, here in London, pornographic books

about sex with amputees, including full-color pictures. I could have told

you that many men would have been able to summon up enough bestiality to

perform in that Nazi labomtory. I could have argued with you, but it

wouldn't have made any difference. I had to show you. Besides--2' She

smiled ruefully. "Besides, I have a dark side, too."

He touched her cheek, then leaned forward and kissed her lips. "Where did

you get this wisdom child?"

"It isn't wisdom it's love."

Then he held her very tightly and kissed her and called her darling and

after a while they made love, very simply, hardly speaking, without

confessions or dark fantasies or bizarre lusts, giving and taking

pleasure with the familiarity of an old couple who know each other very

well; and afterward they went to sleep full of peace and joy.

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TRIPLE

David Rostov was bitterly disappointed with the Euratoin printout. After

he and Pyotr Tyrin had spent hours getting it doped out, it became clear

that the list of consignments was very long. They could riot possibly

cover every target. The only way they could discover which one would be

hit was to pick up Dickstein's trail again.

Yasif Hassan's mission to Oxford thereupon assumed much greater

importance.

They waited for the Arab to call. After ten &clock Nik Bunin, who enjoyed

sleep the way other people enjoy sunbathing, went to bed. Tyrin stuck it

out until midnight, then he too retired. Rostov's phone finally rang at

One A.M. He jumped as if frightened, grabbed the phone, then waited a few

moments before speaking in order to compose himself.

"Yes?"

Hassan's voice came three hundred miles along the international telephone

cables. "I did it The man was here. Two days ago."

Rostov clenched a fist in suppressed excitement. "Jesus. What a piece of

luck."

"What now?"

Rostov considered. "Now, he knows that we know."

"Yes. Shall I come back to base?"

"I don't think so. Did the professor say how long the man plans to be in

England?"

"No. I asked the question directly. "Me professor didn!t know: the man

didn't tell him."

"He wouldn't." Rostov frowned, calculating. "First thing the man has to

do now is report that he's blown. That means he has to contact his London

office.-

"Perhaps be already has.",

"Yes, but-he may want a meeting. This man takes precautions, and

precautions take time. All right, leave it with me. I'll be in London

later today. Where are you now?"

"I'm still in Oxford. I came straight here off the plane. I -can't get

back to London until the morning."

"All right. Check into the Hilton and I'll contact you there around

lunchtime."

"Check. A bient6t."

"Wait."

"Still here."

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Ken Folio"

"Don7t do anything on your own initiative, now. Wait until I get there.

You've done well, don't screw it up."

Hassan hung up.

Rostov sat still for a moment, wondering whether Hassan was planning some

piece of foolishness or simply resented being told to be a good boy. Ile

latter, he decided. Anyway, there was no damage he could do over the next

few hours.

Rostov turned his mind back to Dickstein. The man would not give them a

second chance to pick up his trail. Rostov had to move fast and he had to

move now. He put on his jacket, left the hotel and took a taxi to the

Russian Embassy.

. He had to wait some time, and identify himself to four different people,

before they would let him in in the middle of the night. The duty operator

stood at attention when Rostov entered the communications room. Rostov said,

"Sit down. There's work to do. Get the London office first."

The operator picked up the scrambler phone and began to Fall the Russian

Embassy in London. Rostov took off his jacket and rolled up his, sleeves.

Ile operator said, "Comrade Colonel David Rostov will speak to the most

senior security officer there." He motioned Rostov to pick up the

extension.

"Colonel Petrov." It was the voice of a middle-aged Soldier.

"Petrov, I need some help," Rostov said without preamble. "An Israeli agent

named Nat Dickstein is believed to be in England.-

"Yes, we've had his picture sent to us In the diplomatic pouch-but we

werenI notified he was thought to be hem"

I'Llsten. I think he may contact his embassy. I want you to put all known

Israell legals in Landon under surveillance from dawn today~"

"Hang on, Rostov," said Petrov with a half laugh. "That's a lot, of

manpower."

"Don!t be stapid. You've got hundreds of men, the Israelis only have a

dozen or two."

"Sorry, Rostov, I can't mount an operation like that on

91

your say-so.

Rostov wanted to get the man by the throat. 'This is ur. gentl"

"Let me have the proper documentation, and rm at your disposal."

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TRIPLE

"By then hell be somewhere elsel"

"Not my fault, comrade."

Rostov slammed the phone down, furious, and said, "Bloody Russiansl Never

do anything without six sets of authorization. Get Moscow, tell them to

find Feliks, Vorontsov and patch him through to me wherever he is."

. The operator got busy. Rostov drummed his fingers on the desk

impatiently. Petrov was probably an old soldier close to retirement, with

no ambition for anything but his pension. There were too many men like

that in the KGB.

A few minutes later the sleepy voice of Rostov's boss, Feliks, came on

the line. "Yes, who is it?"

"David Rostov. I'm in Luxembourg. I need some backing. I think The Pirate

is about to contact the Israeli Embassy in London and I want their legals

watched."

"So call London."

"I did. They want authorization."

'~Ihen apply for it."

"For God's sake, Feliks, I'm applying for it now!"

"IMeWs nothing I can do at this time of night Call me in the morning."

"What is this? Surely you can--" Suddenly Rostov realized what was

happening. He controlled himself with an effort. "All right, Feliks. In

the morning."

"Goodbye.,,

"YesT'

"I'll remember this."

The line went dead.

"Where next?" the operator asked.

Rostov frowned. "Keep the Moscow line open. Give me a minute to think."

He might have guessed he would get no help from Feliks. The old fool

wanted him to fail on this mission, to prove that be, Feliks, should have

been given control of it in the first place. It was even possible that

Feliks was pally with Petrov in London and had unofficially told Petrov

not to cooperate.

There was only one thing for Rostov to do. It was a dangerous course of

action and might well get him pulled off the case-in fact it could even

be what Feliks was hoping for. But he could not complain if the stakes

were high, for it was he who had raised them.

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Ken'Fol"

He thought'for a minute or two about- exactly how he should do it. Then he

said, "rell Moscow to put me through to Yuri Andropov's apartment at number

twenty-six Kutuzov Prospekt." The operator raised his eyebrows-it was

probably the first and last time he would be instructed to get the head of

the KGB on the phone-but he said nothing. Rostov waited, fidgeting. "I bet

it isn't like this working for the CM" he muttered.

The operator gave him the sign, and he picked up the phone. A voice said,

"Yes?"

Rostov raised his voice and barked: "Your name and ranklot

"Major Pyotr Eduardovitch Scherbitsky."

'This is Colonel Rostov. I want to speak to Andropov. It's an emergency,

and if he isn!t on this phone within one hundred and twenty seconds you'll

spend the rest of your life building dams in Bratsk, do I make myself

clear?"

"Yes, colonel. Please hold the line."

A moment later Rostov heard the deep,. confident voice of Yuri Andropov,

one of the most powerful men in the world. "You certainly managed to panic

young Eduardovitch, David."

"I had no alternative, sir."

"All right, let's have it. It had better be goo&"

"Me Mossad are after uranium."

"Good God."

"I think The Pirate is in England. He may contact his embassy. I want

surveillance on the Israelis there, but an old fool called Petrov in London

is giving me the runaround.,,

"I'll talk to him now, before I go back to bed.,,

'Mank you, sir.99

"And, David?"

"Yesr,

"It was worth waking me up-but only just."

There was a click as Andropov hung up. Rostov laughed as the tension

drained out of him, and he thought: Let them do their worst-Dickstein,

Hassan, Feliks-1 can handle them.

"Success?" the operator asked with a smile.

"Yes," Rostov said, "Our system is inefficient and cumber. some and

corrupt, but in the end, you know, we get what we Want.09

ISO

Eight

It was quite a wrench for Dickstein to leave Suza in the morning and go

back to work.

He was still ... well, stunned . . . at eleven A.M., sitting in the

window of a restaurant in the Fulham Road waiting for Pierre Borg to

show. He had left a message with airport information at Heathrow telling

Borg to go to a caf6 opposite the one where Dickstein now sat He thought

he was likely to stay stunned for a long tim maybe permanently.

He had awakened at six eclock, and suffered a montept of panic wondering

where he was. Then he saw Suza!s long brown hand lying on the pillow

beside his head, curled up like a small animal sleeping, and the night

had come flooding back, and he could hardly believe his good fortime. He

thought he should not wake her, but suddenly he could not keep his hands

off her body. She opened her eyes at his touch, and they made love

playfully, smiling at one another, laughing sometimes, and looking into

each other's eyes at the moment of climax. Then they fooled around in the

kitchen, half-dressed, making the coffee too weak andburning the toast.

Dickstein wanted to stay there forever.

Suza had picked up his undershirt with a cry of horror. $619VItairs

this?90

"My undershkL"

"Undershirt? I forbid you to wear undershirts. They're old-fashioned and

unhygienic and theyll get in the way when I want to feel your nipplm"

Her expression was so lecherous that he burst out laughing. "All right,"

he said. "I watet wear them."

"Clood." She opened the window and threw the undershirt out into the

street, and he laughed all over again.

He said, "But you mustn't wear trousers~"

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