Crossword (46 page)

"Hold yourself together, we can't stop; that's bound to
arouse suspicion. I know it's difficult. Just keep talking to me in a casual
sort of way, and force yourself to walk as if nothing was the matter."

"They scare me so. They didn't use to."

"That's it. We're just talking about the weather or
where we can get some coal for the stove. It's just a little early morning walk
for us."

"OK, so where would we get coal for the stove."
She forced a smile.

"Very good. As a matter of fact, there is no coal to be
had; that's why so many people are chopping down trees. We're almost up to
them, soon we'll be past and then we can take a little detour to bypass them
and we're off to Switzerland." Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.

As they came abreast of the troops, a corporal and two
privates separated from the group and positioned themselves in their path, the
corporal indicating that they should stop.

"Good morning. Your papers please."

"We were attacked and robbed a day ago," Maria
said in her most sorrowful and plaintive voice. "They stole our papers and
they tried to ... to rape me." Tears welled up in her eyes and she clung
to Larry. She hoped that crying would create sympathy for their plight,
although the tears had come unbidden, a sign of the emotions that she could
barely constrain.

"Wait here." The corporal turned and strode to a
cluster of soldiers standing by the side of the road, where he spoke to one of
the men, before continuing to a staff car parked next to the troop truck.
Larry's eyes followed him, and he was surprised to see that even an SS squad
consisted mainly of old men and young boys with what appeared to be a few
seasoned veterans standing about. The corporal bent down and spoke into the
open window of the car, then took a step back, opening it and snapping to
attention. A pair of black boots appeared, followed by the frame of a six-foot
tall officer, a general in the SS, who turned back to the car, holding out his
arm for the other passenger.

In the meantime, several additional members of the squad
surrounded the hapless couple, relieving them of their packs and ushering them
to the car, a soldier taking hold of each of their arms and urging them
forward. Maria's legs were weak, the troops having to support her as much as
move her forward. Larry's quick appraisal indicated there was no chance for any
action on his part that would lead to anything short of tragedy. Best to see
where things led, although he held out little hope that any kind of deal could
be worked out that didn't involve their death. It was merely a matter of what
kind of death it would be.

Larry and Maria were brought to the open car, where the
recent occupants pivoted, almost in unison. They were face to face with General
Gerhard Waldman and his mistress, Eva, the latter with a most delighted and
evil smile as she surveyed Larry and the shivering young woman beside him.

The Sun had climbed over the rooftops of Bern, dissipating the
shadows of early morning, but not yet banishing the night chill that remained
in the air. Although the clear blue sky promised a fine spring day, the weather
was far from Julian's thoughts as he made his way through the quiet streets in
the early morning. He had remained low key since the disappearance of Kent,
without giving the impression that he was trying to stay completely out of
sight, something that would have surely increased suspicion that he was somehow
involved. During the night an urgent message from general Waldman had been
delivered, notifying him that the whereabouts of the field agent had been
discovered and he expected to acquire control of the package within the next
twenty four to forty eight hours. It went on to say that their rendezvous near
Altstatten should take place as soon as possible after that, Gerhard going
directly there once the prize was in his hand.

Templeton was on his way to Herrengasse to make final
arrangements and he was no longer certain about the best course of action.
Goddamn
Waldman for killing Kent, and Goddamn Kent for being stupid enough to allow it
to happen. It would be so much easier if that didn't happen. Well, it can't be
undone; I'll just have to deal with it.
He planned to turn over the
plutonium to a buyer in Switzerland as soon as he received it from the General;
the less time it was in his hands the less chance of discovery. The money would
be deposited in a Swiss bank to be retrieved at a future date, and he would
simply continue at his government job for a year or two, then quietly retire to
pursue "other interests", knowing that he had a sufficient nest egg
to allow him to live comfortably for the rest of his life. The maneuvering at
the end of the operation was to have been quick and easy, the acquisition,
sale, and deposit all taking place within thirty six hours at most, then
business as usual for him, just another government employee doing his job. All
of that was now uncertain.

The original plan might still work, but he had to now
consider the possibility of modifying the ending. Once the money was safely in
a numbered Swiss bank account, the part about business as usual might have to
be replaced with cut and run. Templeton knew that with his partner gone
missing, and the operation about to end in failure, at least as far as the OSS
was concerned, he would be under suspicion; at the least there would be an
inquiry into the entire operation from start to finish. He had no doubt that he
could effectively disappear and make his way to some South American or other
quasi neutral country, but he didn't envision himself living as an expatriate
fugitive, and the likelihood that he would eventually be tracked down seemed
high. The original plan was better; it was simple and elegant, but now it was
really a question of whether or not it was still tactically feasible. Would his
role as a loyal OSS agent survive the scrutiny of a focused investigation?

Before going to the office Julian stopped in at the Bellevue
Palace hotel, a bastion of old world opulence since 1913, crossed the ornate
lobby in hurried steps and placed a sealed envelope on the registration desk,
calling to a clerk as he did so. "Please deliver this right away to the
gentleman in room four twenty-eight." He placed a few coins on top of the
paper.

"Shall I say who it's from, sir?"

"Not necessary, it's explained in the letter."

"Right away, sir." Julian was already walking to
the door. The clerk twirled the envelope in his hand, wrote the room number on
it and then rang for a bell-boy to take it up.

Ten minutes later Templeton hurried up the steps to his
office, glad that Vickie was not yet at her desk. One less encounter, one less
distraction. Walking down the corridor he passed Dulles's office, the door open
as Bill was emerging carrying a small stack of papers. Through the open portal
he saw Allen Dulles at his desk, removing manila envelopes from the morning
courier pouch, a small plume curling upward from his pipe. Bill looked up as
Templeton passed, and nodded to him. "Morning, Julian. You're here early."

"Got to keep up with the old man." He paused.
"Actually, I'm trying to check on some leads about Kent's disappearance.
It's frustrating not knowing what happened. And dangerous. I don't like it when
an operation goes wrong."

I'll bet you don't.
Out loud, Bill said, "We're
all worried, especially when this happens to someone who's not a field agent.
Good luck."

Julian continued along the hall to his office, closing the
door behind him and dropping into his chair with a feeling of exhaustion, even
though the day was just beginning. Between the Bellevue and Herrengasse he had
made the decision to forge ahead with his original plan, selling the plutonium
and parking the money in a numbered account for a couple of years. However, to
cover unforeseen events, Julian wanted to have one or more exit doors
available, and to do that he needed to check on the assets available to him.
Some of the information he needed was hidden in his apartment, squirreled away
like acorns against the possibility of a harsh winter, but some remained in his
office files, to be copied or removed before the day was out.

An hour later, his planning and foraging was interrupted by
a knock, followed by Allen Dulles walking into the office. "Find anything?
Bill said you were checking into some new leads on Kent."

"I don't know how real it is or how useful it might be,
but one of my contacts, a Swiss national with ties to Austria, sent me a rather
cryptic note in which he mentioned hearing about my friend, I presume Kent, and
saying we should get together for dinner sometime."

"Could be useful. You should arrange a meeting. Where
is he located?"

"Near Altstatten. It's close to Austria and he's back
and forth across the border fairly often."

"Get out there tomorrow. You can also check at our base
and have them put you in contact with the partisans waiting for the field
agent. We've got to see if we can find out anything about the status of our
boy."

"I'll be on tomorrow's train."

"If you find out anything, you can get a secure message
to me from the base." Dulles turned and left with no further conversation.

Templeton watched the door close, then leaned back in his
chair and slowly exhaled, a smile on his face for the first time since his
sleep was interrupted last night by the message from Gerhard.
What a fucking
stroke of good fortune. He just built my cover story for me.
Just a few
more days and I should be back in Bern with a well stocked bank account."
Julian spent another hour at his desk, then returned to his apartment, stopping
again at the Bellevue and leaving another message for the gentleman in four
twenty-eight.

* *

Rain had been pelting the curtained window of his first class seat
since shortly after the train left the Bern station, but now, as Julian sat in
the dining car, the clouds rolled aside and broad beams of sunshine dotted the
passing landscape. The waiter cleared away the remains of his modest breakfast,
and refilled the coffee cup, maintaining perfect balance as the car swayed from
side to side.

It seemed odd, he thought, that the buyer of the plutonium
would end up being a Swiss citizen, but who else would have better access to
the infrastructure necessary to pull off a sale like this and arrange for safe
storage and transportation. Templeton knew that Mr. Gottier, the man whose
agent had waited in room four twenty-eight, would simply sell the package to
some other interested buyer, certainly at a substantial profit over what he had
paid, but there was nothing he could do about that. He had the plan to acquire
the plutonium but lacked the resources to do anything with it once it was in
his hands. Gottier, on the other hand, was a quintessential merchant and was
well skilled in turning a profit as a middleman. And, if luck continued to
shine on Templeton, he would be meeting with Gottier on the train from Zurich
to Altstatten. The wealthy merchant had kept one of his trusted men ensconced
at the nicest hotel in Bern, just so he would be available as a cutout to relay
messages to his employer in Zurich. When he changed trains, Julian would share
a private compartment with Gottier, and the first part of their business would
be concluded on the ride to Altstatten.

To the Swiss, a train schedule was something to be adhered
to, not merely an approximation of when a particular run was likely to begin,
and so, when Julian arrived at Zurich, he had exactly twenty-one minutes to
change platforms for the train to Altstatten. He accomplished this without
incident, and five minutes before the train left the station he was seated
across from Armin Gottier, lunch spread out on the table between them, waiting
for the steward to fill their wine glasses before commencing their business.

"Ring when you're ready for coffee, or if there's
anything else I can get you."

"Thank you." The deep base voice was surprising
and not at all what one would expect from the tall, thin merchant. His straight
black hair was brushed back, slicked firmly against his scalp; his face was
clean-shaven and deeply tanned from hours on the ski slopes near his private
alpine chateau. Despite his ruddy complexion, it was difficult for Julian to
think of Gottier as athletic in any way. His pencil thin stature, accentuated
by a close fitting double breasted suit, reminded him more of the
anthropomorphization of an expensive walking stick. Emphasis on
"expensive," for notwithstanding his physical appearance, he radiated
wealth and power in everything he said or did. There was no mistaking it.

Gottier's eyes followed the steward from the compartment,
then, when the door clicked shut, he turned back to Julian. "I'm told we
are ready to commence our transaction." No preamble. Strictly business.

Templeton followed his lead. "I'll need the down
payment we discussed and contact information for your driver in Altstatten.
Once it's on board he and I can drive to wherever you want so the shipment can
be authenticated, and then I'll expect final payment. Transaction
completed."

"When do you expect this to happen?"

"Tomorrow or the next day."

"Very good." He reached into his briefcase and
produced an envelope bulging with high denomination Swiss francs. Julian took
it, not bothering to count it, and placed it in a large manila envelope marked
"Top Secret." He returned this to the leather briefcase at his side.
Gottier continued, "You understand that the remainder of the payment will
be in the form of a bank draft." There was no need for him to mention that
it would be honored at virtually any bank in the world. Nor was there any need
for him to detail the course of action should the merchandise not be delivered
or be other than what had been described to him. Money and power.