Flight of the Raven (26 page)

“I wasn’t aware of a prior complaint.”

“Well, someone up there must be raising bloody hell. This is the third call we’ve had today about her damn stuff.”

Julie stared at the receiver, her face gone white.

“No one else has been authorized to follow up on the shipment.”

“Like I told the rest of them, honey, if you want any of those boxes before they’re scheduled to be delivered, you’re going to have to show me a signed SB34G.”

“Just exactly where are you?” Julie probed, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Are you new at this or something? It’s always Building Seven.”

Hanging up, Julie gave in to a few moments of panic. Suddenly she realized that despite all Aleksei’s elaborate precautions to hide their whereabouts, she’d been hoping that the men he had battled in the airport parking lot were the only ones after him. Now here was cold hard evidence that they weren’t. Before she realized what she was doing, she had dialed the private phone number in her uncle’s Senate office.

“Julie, where are you? Are you all right?” His tone was strained.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“The State Department’s frantic to get in touch with you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Your town house has been vandalized. Julie, I was down there. It’s a mess. And there’s blood all over the living room. What kind of trouble are you in? Whatever it is, I can help.”

The offer was so tempting. Maybe he could give them sanctuary. But then she remembered the way Aleksei had looked when the knock on the door had penetrated their hotel room. It was better not to trust anyone, even her uncle. “This is something I have to work out by myself.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“I’ve got to. Your line may be tapped.”

“In the Senate Office Building? It better not be!”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Bill.”

“Please let me help,” he said.

“If you want to do something, don’t talk to anyone about me. All the people who are showing concern may be the same ones who tore my house apart.”

“Good God, what do you mean?”

She wanted to tell him. But anything she said could be just as dangerous to Aleksei as the KGB agents after him. With a sick feeling, she realized that she never should have made the call. Instead of giving away anything more, she simply hung up.

* * *

S
LAVA
B
OGOLUBOV
set down the sheaf of reports that had arrived that afternoon and turned from the desk in his temporary command post under the embassy. “Good,” he murmured. “Very good. Our inquiries have paid off.”

Yuri Hramov, who had been shuffling a pack of cards at a square wooden table, paused. “So we’re going to make our move,” he observed quietly. The calm control in his voice belied the feeling of power that suddenly pumped through his body. He’d been cooped up in this hole with the general for days now, and he’d quickly found he couldn’t stomach the man. But he’d also learned to read the old toad. Slava had acquired caution in Madrid. He wouldn’t risk defeat now. So he must think the odds were in his favor.

Bogolubov’s gaze flicked to Hramov’s large, square hands and the blue-and-white deck that now rested between them on the table. The slapping, almost gurgling noise of shuffling cards had come near to driving him mad. He’d tried to close his eyes and pretend he was listening to a babbling brook deep in a cool pine forest. It hadn’t worked. How could a human being sit there mindlessly shifting and manipulating little pieces of shiny cardboard? More than once he’d pictured himself jumping up and knocking them to the floor. He’d been stopped by the certain knowledge that he’d end up down there too. But the ordeal was almost over now. With an air of command, he handed the assassin a sheet of paper and watched as his eyes flicked across the lines of Cyrillic, amazed once again that the big gorilla could actually read.

“Has transportation been arranged?” Hramov asked.

“Naturally.”

“And you authorize me to proceed as I think best.”

The general hesitated. Before he could speak again, Hramov stood up and walked toward him. It took every ounce of will to hold his ground against the maniacal look in those close-set eyes. “Don’t you think I want to bring him in alive?” Hramov grated. “Don’t you think I’d rather take him on with a knife instead of a gun? Or perhaps a length of piano wire slipped over his head from behind. I wouldn’t choke him to death. At the last minute I’d let him gasp for breath. Then I’d turn him so that he could see my face.”

Bogolubov swallowed convulsively. For a moment he felt that wire around his own throat.

“I will bring him to you alive,” Hramov promised. “Unless it’s a choice between him and me. And what about the girl?” he asked. “Do you want to question her too?”

“Yes.”

“I know how to make women talk.”

The general had a strong stomach, but he didn’t want to hear the details behind the icy assurance in those words.

* * *

T
HERE WAS A STRANGE
feeling of elation at being back at the Aviary, Colonel Mark Bradley, USAF, thought as he pulled out a wrought-iron chair and sat down. As always, the lush tropical foliage and the squawking parrots seemed so out of place at the headquarters of an intelligence operation. Yet as soon as Amherst Gordon’s silver-headed cane hit the flagstones of the solarium, Mark could feel that familiar surge of excitement associated with a new mission. Ever since his narrow brush with death in Berlin had earned him a promotion and a new assignment in the situation room at the Pentagon, Mark had been itching to get back to field duty with the Peregrine Connection.

“I’m glad Eden accepted my job offer,” Gordon began affably. Mark was glad too. Eden Sommers had put her life on the line to free his mind from control of the East German sadist Hans Erlich. Mark was now married to Eden. There were few women who would be willing to stand by him through the dangerous episodes that would always be a part of his life. Her acceptance of a job as staff psychologist at the Aviary was just more evidence of her commitment.

“Yes. But frankly I’ve been a little jealous lately.”

“Oh, nothing exciting happening on your watch at the Pentagon?” Gordon asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Not much. Hijackings, terrorist attacks.” His dark eyebrows lifted. “Two KGB agents illegally in the country who decide to shoot it out at a local airport.”

Gordon hid a grin. “Funny you should mention that last.”

“I’ve seen the CIA reports. They can’t explain it. I have the feeling maybe you can.”

At that moment Constance McGuire came in with a tray bearing a silver coffee service and a thick manila folder. She set the pot in front of Gordon and handed the dossier to Mark.

“One of you can pour while the other reads,” she explained.

Mark had read only a few paragraphs when she heard him whistle between his teeth. “So Rozonov was working for you all along.”

“You understand why I had to keep that information under wraps.”

“Of course.”

“Well, now you have the opportunity to return the favor he did for you during that gunfight in Berlin.”

“He saved my life by drawing Erlich’s fire. What can I do for him?”

Quickly Gordon briefed him on the recent developments in the Topaz affair and what role he wanted Mark to play.

“Have you gotten the CIA to lay off?” the colonel asked.

“I tried. I don’t know. Once they get a deep cover operation going, it feeds on its own momentum. I suspect the people in charge lose control.”

“I suppose you have a way to give me the authority I’ll need.”

“The secretary of defense is working on that now.”

“How do we bring the Raven in?”

“I’m waiting for an ad in
The Washington Post.
Meanwhile, I want you to familiarize yourself with Aleksei’s and Julie’s files.”

Early that afternoon Mark was still in the library reading when the critical-message alarm sounded.

Connie was tearing the message off the computer terminal as he and Gordon arrived in the shielded office.

“This has got to be the break we’re looking for. A woman whose voice matches McLean’s pattern called Warehouse Seven in Newport News and located part of her shipment. She called back an hour ago to ask them to have it ready tomorrow morning.”

The Falcon turned to Mark. “That means that Aleksei must be planning to get it out of there tonight, so you’re going to have to hustle.”

“Did you get me the authorization papers?”

“They’re supposed to be on their way. You’ll leave the moment they arrive.”

* * *

J
ULIE EYED
the packed bag beside the hotel room bed. “You were going to leave without me, weren’t you?”

“Yes. It’s better that way.”

“It’s more than a four-hour drive to Newport News. How were you planning to get there with only one good arm?”

“I drove from BWI to Georgetown with a bullet still in it.”

She made a derisive noise. “And collapsed on the sofa in a pool of blood.”

“Don’t you understand,
dushenka?
I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Yes.” Her tone softened. “I have equally strong feelings about you. That’s why I’m going to be your chauffeur. You need every advantage you can give yourself. If you rest instead of driving, you’ll be in much better shape to face whatever we find down there in that warehouse tonight.”

“A Russian woman wouldn’t give such back talk.”

“Too bad you had to get mixed up with the likes of me.”

Though he tried to keep a stern face, new admiration for her shone in his eyes. Despite the tension of the moment, he laughed. “All right, prove your worth and pay the bill while I collect the rental car I’ve ordered.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. We’ll settle up at the front desk together and get the car together too.”

* * *

R
ICHARD
B
ORMAN
rubbed his hands together with ill-concealed excitement. “Julie McLean’s made her move,” he announced, looking across the small cinder-block room at Gary Conrad, the agent who was working with him on this case. Conrad was a good man—cool and precise. What’s more, his electronics skills were going to be invaluable.

Conrad put down the circuit diagram he was studying and glanced up. “You don’t think she’d try anything alone, do you?” he asked.

Borman had already considered that question. “No. I’m willing to bet Rozonov arrived at her town house the night she disappeared, and she took him to some sort of hideout to recuperate.” He paused and laughed. “She must have some bedside manner. If they’re on the move again, he’s put himself back on the active-duty list.”

The other man snorted. “The R & R might have been fun. But I don’t envy him that welcoming reception his friends in the KGB arranged.”

“True,” Borman admitted.

Conrad hesitated. There was something that didn’t feel right to him in all of this. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and he really shouldn’t question a seasoned operative like Borman, so he voiced his doubts cautiously. “From over here, it looks like a power struggle in the KGB, but I thought those guys didn’t break ranks.”

“Rozonov must have stepped on someone’s toes.”

“Bogolubov?”

“We know the general’s had a grudge against him for years. That makes it interesting that both he and Rozonov have dropped out of sight as far as the Soviet grapevine is concerned.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s grab some supper before we settle in.”

Conrad bowed to the inevitable. “Shall I take the first shift?”

“We’ll flip for it after dinner. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

H
E TRIED TO GET HER
to register at a motel near the interstate highway and wait for him. She shook her head. “I’m staying with you.”

The adamancy of her voice told him an argument would simply be a waste of precious breath. The only way he was going to leave Julie McLean behind tonight was to tie her up, and he didn’t have the heart for that.

As a compromise, they both checked into a Quality Inn, where they could change and leave their luggage. He knew he should rest before the evening’s mission. Instead, the moment the door closed behind them, he pulled her body against the tense length of his. Her arms came up to hold him even closer; her hips moved against him. His mouth on hers was urgent, seeking, plundering. She was no less rapacious. The fire between them reached flashpoint in seconds.

He cursed when the injured arm got in his way. She tore off his clothes and hers as well. Then they were on the bed, their bodies a hot, desperate tangle against the quilted spread. He felt the first shudders of her climax almost as soon as he had entered her. A few more hard, driving strokes brought his own release. Then he was cradling her damp, panting body against his.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes were grave, his voice unsteady.

“God, no.”

“I’ve never needed a woman that badly.”

“I’ve never needed
anything
that badly.”

They clung together, fingers stroking, lips caressing. “Will you stay here?”

“No. I love you too much to let you go alone.”

“And what if I love you too much to let you come with me?”

“I’ll rent another car and follow you.”

He sighed. “We might as well leave as soon as it gets dark.”

“Tell me I’m going to be some help to you, not a hindrance.”

He stroked her face. “You’ll be able to unpack the boxes a lot faster than I will.” And if we have to run for it, maybe one of us will get away, he thought silently, not allowing her to hear his fears.

Though she tried, she couldn’t control the shiver that raced across her suddenly cold skin.

An hour later they both changed into jeans, dark T-shirts, and jogging shoes. It was almost frightening, Julie thought, the way his manner altered as he dressed for the night’s activity.

Her heart was beating wildly as they approached the warehouse complex near the docks. She stole a sideways glance at his profile. His face seemed perfectly calm.

She had known he was a trained professional. But he proved it now. As she waited where he’d parked half a block away in the shadow of a wall, he made his way noiselessly toward the corrugated steel building that was designated Warehouse Seven. Total concentration went into the task at hand. He noted doors and loading docks as he circled the structure. He’d made Julie ask about the layout of the interior when she’d put through her second call. Now he wished he had a floor plan.