Triple (35 page)

Ken FOUSH

see~"

"I can explain

Come on, Nik. Get It over with...

One of the aflozz In the group stopped to urinate In the gutter The othm

stood around making ribald remarks and laughing. Tyrin wished the man

would hurry up-the thnin& the thning-but he seemed as If he would go on

forever.

At last he finhhed, and they all walked on.

Tyrin heard a car.

He tensed. Lan odd, -Whars matter?-

"Nothing." Tyrin saw the headHght& 7le car was moving steadily toward

them in the middle of the road. The sailors moved on to the sidewalk to

get out of its way. it wasn't right, It shoWdn!t be like this, it

wouldn't work this wayl Sud-

nly Tynn was confused and panic-stricken-then he saw

eof the car more clearly as it passed beneath a

stred lIsK and he realized it was not the one he was waiting

for, it was a patrolling police car. It went harmlessly by.

The end of the street opened Into a wide, empty square, badly paved.

Ilere was no traffic about. The sailors headed straight across the middle

of the squam

NOW.

Come on.

They were halfway across.

come on/

A car came tearing around a comer and into the square, headlights

bhizing. Tyrin tightened his grip on IA&s shoulder. 7U car was veering

wildly,

"Drunk driver," Lars said thickly.

It was a Ford Capri. It swung toward the bunch of sailors In front 71ey

stopped laughing and scattered out of its way, shouting curses. The car

turned away, then screeched around and accelerated straight for TyAn and

Lam

17,ook outrl Tyrin Yelled.

Whert the car was almost on top of them he pulled rAn to one side,

Jerking the man off balance, and threw himself sideways. 71ere was a

stomach-turning thud, followed by a scream and crash of breaking glass.

7be car went by.

It's done, Tyrin thought

He scrambled to his feet and looked for Lam

7be milor lay on the road a few feet away. Blood glistened In the

lamplight.

198

Lan groaned.

Hes alive, Tyrin thought; Thank (W.

The car braked. One of its headlights had gone out--tbe one that bd hit

Lam he presumed. It coasted, as if the driver wwe hesitating. Then it

gathered speed and, one-eyed, it disappeared Into the night.

. Tyrin bent over Lan. The other sailors gathered around, speaking

Swedish. Tyrin touched Laws leg. He yelled out in pahL

"I think his leg Is broken," Tyrin said. Thank God thaes aft.

Lights were going on In some of the buildings around the ujuare. One of

the officers said something, and a rating ran off toward a house

presumably to call for an ambulance. Ilan was more rapid dialogue and

another went off in the direction of the dock.

Lan was bleeding, but not too heavily. The officer bent over him He would

not allow anyone to touch bis leg.

T~e ambulance arrived within minutes, but it seemed for ever to Tyrin:

he had never killed a man, and he did not want to.

They put Lars on a stretcher. Ile officer got into the ambulance, and

turned to speak to Tynn. "You had better com&"

"Yee

"You saved his life, I think!'

`Oh."

He got into the ambulance with the officer.

They sped through the wet streets, the flashing blue light on the roof

casting an unpleasant glow over the buildings. Tyrin sat In the back,

unable to look at Lan or the officer, unwilling to look out of the

windows like a tourist not knowIng where to direct Ins eyes. He had done

many unkind things in the service of his country and Colonel Rostov-he

had taped the conversations of lovers for blackmail, he had shown

terrorists how to make bombs, he had helped capture people who would

later be tortured-but he had never been forced to ride in the ambulance

with his victim. He did not like it

They arrived at the hospital. 'Me ambulance men carried the stretcher

inside. Tyrin and the officer were shown where to wait. And, suddenly,

the rush was over. They had nothing

Ken Follett

to do but worry. Tyrin was astonished to look at the plain electric clock

on the hospital wall and see that it was not yet midnight. It seemed hours

since they had left the pub.

After a Ions wait a doctor came out. "He's broken his leg and lost some

blood," he said. He seemed very tired. "He's got a lot of alcohol in him,

which doesn!t help. But he's young, strong and healthy. His leg will mend

and he should be fit again in a few weeks."

Relief flooded Tyrin. He realized he was shaking.

1he officer said, "Our ship sails in the morning."

"He won't be on it~ll the doctor said. "Is your captain on his way hereT'

"I sent for him."

"Fine." The doctor turned and left.

The captain arrived at the same time as the police. He spoke to the

officer in Swedish while a young sergeant took down Tyrin's vague

description of the car.

Afterward the captain approached Tyrin. "I believe you saved Lars from

a much worse accident."

Tyrin wished people would stop saying that. "I tried to pull him out of

the way, but he fell. He was very drunk."

"Horst here says you are between ships."

"Yes, sir."

"You are a fully qualifted radio operatorr'

"Yes, sir."

"I need a replacement for poor Lars. Would you like to sail with in in

the morningT'

PieiTe Borg said, "I'm pulling you out."

Dickstein whitened. He stared at his boss.

Borg said, "I want you to come back to Tel Aviv and ran the operation

from the office."

Dickstein said, "You go and fuck yourself."

They stood beside the lake at Zurich. It was crowded with boats, their

multicolored sails flapping prettily in the Swiss sunshine. Borg said,

"No arguments, Nat"

"No arguments, Pierre. I won't be puffed out. Finish."

"I'm ordering you."

"And rm telling you to fuck yourself."

"Look." Borg took a deep breath. "Your plan Is complete. 7be only flaw

in it is that you've been compromised: the opposition knows yoifre

working, and they're trying to find you

200

TRIPLE

and screw up whatever it is you!re doing. You can still run the

project-all you have to do is bide your face."

"No,10 Dickstein said. "This isn't the kind of project where you can sit

in an office and push all the buttons to make it go. I'Va too complex,

there are too many variables. I have to be in the. field myself to make

instant decisions." Dickstein stopped himself talking and began to think:

Why do I want to do it myself? Am I really the only man in Israel who can

pull d3is off? Is it just that I want the glory?

Borg voiced his thoughts. -Don!t try to be a hero, Nat. You're too smart

for that. YoWre a professional: you followorders."

Dickstein shook his head. "You should know better than to take that line

with me. Remember how Jews feel about people who always follow orders?"

"All right, so you were in a concentration camp-that doesn't give you the

right to do whatever the hell you like for the -rest of your lifel"

Dickstein made a deprecatory gesture. "You can stop me. You can withdraw

support. But you also won't get your uranium, because I'm not going to

tell anyone. else how it can be done."

Borg stared at him. "You bastard, you mean it."

Dickstein watched Borg's expression. He had once had the embarrassing

experience of seeing Borg have a row with his teenage son Dan. The boys

had stood there, sullenly confident, while Borg tried to explain that

going on peace marches was disloyal to father, mother, country and God,

until Borg had strangled himself with his own inarticulate rage. Dan,

like Dickstein, had learned how to refuse to be bullied, and Borg would

never quite know how to handle people who could not be bullied.

The script now called for Borg to go red in the face and begin to yell.

Suddenly Dickstein realized that this was not going to happen. Borg was

remainIng ealm.

Borg smiled slyly and said, "I believe you!re fucking one of the other

side!s agents."

Dickstein stopped breathing. He had felt as if he had been hit from

behind with a sledgehammer. This was the last thing he had been

expecting. He was filled with irrational guilt, like a boy caught

masturbating: shame, embarrassment, and the sense of something spoiled.

Suza was private, in a compart-

201

Ken Folleff

ment separate from the rest of his life, and now Borg was dragging her out

and holding her up to public view: Just look at what Nat was doingl

"No," Dickstein said tonelessly.

"I'll give you the headlines," Borg said, "Shes Arab, her father's politics

are pro-Arab, she travels all over the world in her cover job to have

opportunity for contacts, and the agent Yasif Hassan, who spotted you in

Luxembourg, is a friend of the family."

Dickstein tamed to face Borg, standing too close, gazing fiercely into

Borg's eyes, his guilt turning to resentment. 'Mat's all?"

"All? What the fuck do you mean, all? You'd shoot people on that much

evidencel"

"Not people I know."

"Has she gotten any information out of you?"

Dickstein shouted, "Nol"

"You're getting angry because you know you've fiiade a mistake."

Dickstein turned away and looked across the lake, struggling to make

himself calm: rage was Borg's act not his. After a long pause he said,

"Yes, I'm angry because I've made a mistake. I should have told you about

her; not the other way around. I understand how it must seem to you---~'

"Seem? You mean you don't believe she's an agentT'

"Have you chocked through Cairo?"

Borg gave a false little laugh. "You talk as if Cairo was my intelligence

service. I can't just call and ask them to look her up in their files while

I hold the line."

"But you've got a very good double agent in Egyptian Intelligence."

"How can he be good? Everybody seems to know about him."

"Stop playing games. Since the Six-Day War even the newspapers say you have

good doubles in Egypt. The point is, you haven!t checked her."

Borg held up both hands, palms outward, in a gesture of appeasement. "Okay,

rm going to check her with Cairo. It will take a little time. Meanwhile,

you're going to write a report giving all details of your scheme and I'm

going to put other agents on the job."

Dickstein thought of Al Cortone and Andre Papagopolous: 202

TPJPLE*

neither of them would do what he had agreed to do for anY6 one other than

Dickstein. "It won't work, Pierre," he said quietly. "Yoteve got to have

the uranium, and I'm the only one who can get it for you."

"And if Cairo confirms her to be an agent?"

"rin confident the answer will be negative."

"But if it's notT'

"YoWll kill her, I suppose."

"Oh, no." Borg pointed a finger at Dickstein's nose, and when he spoke

there was real, deep-down malice in his voice. "Oh, no, I won% Dickstein.

If shes an agent, you will kill her."

With deliberate slowness, Dickstein took hold of Borg's wrist and removed

the pointing finger from in front of his face. There was only the

faintest perceptible tremor in his voice as he said, "Yes, Pierre, I will

kill her."

203