Program for a Puppet (32 page)

They didn't speak again until the car pulled up outside the terminal. Graham went to kiss her again and she pulled away, wiping the tears away.

“Oh, God! Don't start that, you'll have me going in a second …” He got out of the car and pulled his suitcase from the trunk. He moved around to the driver's side and tapped on the window. She wound it down.

“Where are you going to go?” he asked.

“Probably home.”

“Montpellier?”

“Perhaps.”

‘I'll join you.”

“No …”

“As soon as this is over.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He held the hair at the back of her head and, leaning through the window, kissed her. She responded warmly.

He pulled away and strode into the terminal. Without looking back.

Graham's first contact in New York was with Revel, now back in the U.S. awaiting the decision in the Justice Department's Lasercomp case. The Australian called him on arrival and arranged a meeting with the lawyer at Chicago, a bar on Park Avenue South, for 6:00
P.M
. This gave him just enough time to take a bus to Grand Central station and from there a taxi to an apartment on East Thirty-sixth Street where he had stayed in New York earlier in the year.

Both men arrived at the bar on time and found themselves an isolated booth. Revel spoke first about a few points of interest concerning Lasercomp in Europe and then listened carefully to Graham's findings in the Soviet Union. All of it was vital information for the lawyer's part of the special PICS report to Rickard.

“You say this company called Znorel based in Stuttgart coordinates all the smuggling on Lasercomp's behalf,” Revel said, when Graham had finished speaking of his key discoveries. “How does the smuggling operate?”

“It's a huge operation, rather like arms smuggling to South Africa. Lasercomp, the supplier, and the KGB, its client, make a deal. Lasercomp agrees to supply it with a certain number of computers a year. The corporation, of course, cannot be seen dealing directly with communists.”

“So it uses Znorel to do its dirty work?”

“Right. Lasercomp ‘legitimately' sells Cheetah to about forty companies in about thirty Western countries. These organizations are usually private—some of them bogus. It is up to these companies, under Znorel's direction, to get those machines into the Soviet Union.”

“That's how Lasercomp's books always look okay to auditors. Revenue always comes from Western companies. This doesn't contravene any laws.”

Graham nodded. “Lasercomp comes into the act again when its scientists design the network. They supervise its installation in the Soviet Union.”

“How do these companies make their profit?”

“They buy a computer from Lasercomp for, say, four million dollars, and then up the price to the Russians to, say, five million.”

“Then Znorel is a sort of computer broker between West and East?”

“Exactly. It takes a fee for organizing the smuggling from both the companies and the KGB.”

“Then there is now way of proving a direct link between Lasercomp and Znorel?”

“It's not easy to break into Swiss bank accounts. But if you could, I'd bet you would find that Lasercomp owns Znorel, or a substantial chunk of it.”

Graham pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Revel.

“What's in this?”

“Some important shots for your family album. Vienna is the central smuggling point for the Cheetahs. The men in those shots, I think you'll find, are all in some way connected with Lasercomp. They design the master plan for the Soviet system. They work with Soviet scientists at Vienna's Stölenburg Palace.”

“So Vienna is the central clearing house for the smuggling, and also the focal point for designing the master plan. It's beginning to fit.” Revel paused to sip his drink. “Where did you take these photos?”

“At the KGB's center in Kiev.”

“They could even be incriminating evidence.”

“I know two at least for sure are on Lasercomp's payroll. They're on two-year assignment to IOSWOP.”

A young couple had just settled into the booth next to theirs. The two men sat silently for a minute until they heard the couple engaged in conversation.

Revel leaned forward. Lowering his voice, he said, “I'll get our authorities onto this right away.”

“As soon as there is some action, I want to write an article for the press here and in London.”

“Isn't that dangerous?”

“Maybe. But I want to draw those bastards at Lasercomp into the open. We could make it a very hot week for the giant. Especially if you win your court battle.”

Revel winced.

“You're confident, aren't you?”

“Absolutely. We presented a winning case. But I'm still nervous about it.” Revel had tried to put the coming decision out of his mind. Since learning more about the corporation's clandestine and ruthless activities in recent weeks, he was desperately wanting the decision to go his way. He changed the subject.

“What are your plans?”

“I'd like to see Dr. Donald Gordon. He may be able to help on a few things that are puzzling me.”

“That may be difficult. I called him yesterday for you. He was ultracautious about a meeting. He said it would be dangerous for him to see anyone from the press.”

“Well, what's he afraid of? That's all the more reason for seeing him.”

Gordon had been under terrific tension since his confrontation with Clifford Brogan, Sr., almost a week ago. He had hardly ventured out of his home, a two-story wooden building called the Captain's Mansion, in Maryland, Virginia. It was once owned by a seafaring gentleman from the Maryland region, and stood at the end of a dirt road about a hundred yards from the next house. It backed onto a lonely grassland swamp area, and overlooked the Pioneer Point conjunction of the Corsica and Chester rivers. Not a quarter of a mile away, the Soviet Union had a forty-five-acre prime waterfront retreat for their embassy and espionage staffs and their families.

Gordon took some comfort from the fact that he had built the home into an electronic fortress over the last twenty years. It was surrounded by a ten-foot-high wood-plank fence, which had sensory devices ingrained in its top. If any person or beast tried to get over the fence they would activate a warning system. This had a high-pitched buzzer sound like a dentist's drill, a lighting arrangement that floodlit the grounds, and an elaborate electronic
eye monitoring device which, Gordon boasted, could look into every corner of the house and grounds. The scientist had also built an excellent bomb shelter beneath his basement library.

On the night of October 23 Gordon was reading in the library when the buzzer sounded. At first he thought it was a stray cat which had often activated the system. He went to switch it off. As his hand moved over the deactivation switch he looked up at the four television monitor screens in each corner of the ceiling. Four figures dressed in hooded masks were running toward the house. Gordon ran for the steel trap door leading to the bomb shelter. He pulled it shut just as he heard glass shattering. He slid down a ladder, turned on the light in the shelter and immediately switched on another television monitor screen. The scientist watched in horror as the four men broke in and began to scour the house. They were all armed with handguns. His monitoring system was also geared for sound and he could hear and see the men stumbling around occasionally smashing something. They went through every room before he heard them.

“He's not here!”

“He has to be damn well here!”

“Then where the hell is he?”

Gordon dialed the police.

The gunmen noticed the scanners and began to shoot at them.

“Jesus! This place is creepy!” one of them said. “Let's get out of here.”

The four men clambered out of the house, ran across the grounds, and hurled themselves over the wall.

Gordon watched their escape. His worst fears about tackling Lasercomp had been terrifyingly verified.

Graham arrived in Washington by Metroliner from New York late on Friday the twenty-fourth and immediately took a taxi to a small hotel on Sixteenth Street opposite Lafayette Park and the White House.

Checking in under a false name, the Australian went straight to his room, unpacked and went to bed.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep the telephone rang. It was Revel, who had flown into Washington that morning.

“This is important. Can you meet me immediately?”

Graham looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. “Can't it wait until morning?” he asked wearily. “I really am tired, George….”

“Ed, it's urgent. A limousine will pick you up in five minutes. Come as you are.”

He rang off before Graham could object. The Australian cursed.

“Come as you are?” he muttered to himself as he looked at his naked state in a bureau mirror.

Four minutes later, he was waiting in front of the hotel. A government car cruised up and stopped near him.

“Mr. Graham,” a marine said, as he bounced from the car and opened a back door. The Australian nodded and hopped in. He began to wonder what Revel was up to.

The car swung around the park, and much to Graham's surprise, was ushered through a heavily guarded back entrance to the White House. It pulled up abruptly near the west wing. The marine opened the door and led Graham to a side entrance, where a plainclothes man mumbled a greeting to the Australian and took him to a large room where Revel was waiting.

“You could have dressed a little more formally,” he said, smiling nervously and eying Graham's turtleneck sweater.

“You didn't tell me it was a White House ball …”

Revel laughed, and paced the room.

“George, what the hell's going on?”

The lawyer walked up close to Graham. “You are about to meet the President of the United States,” he said melodramatically.

“What?” Graham asked in disbelief. “You're putting me on!”

Revel shook his head. “Nope.”

“But haven't you already let the attorney general know …?”

“Yes, this afternoon. But Rickard expressly wanted his meeting with you. He's like that. He has a lot of journalistic contacts. Feels easy among them.”

“At this time of night?”

“This guy's a workaholic. And you've given him something to get his teeth into. I was with him this afternoon when he set in motion a delicate line of action with the West German government and police, NATO, Interpol and the CIA …”

He cut off as an aide entered the room.

“The President will see you now,” he said to both of them, Revel arched his eyebrows at Graham and motioned for him to go first. They were led out of the room and down a hallway which swung right of the Oval Office. The aide knocked at the President's study and ushered Graham and Revel in. Rickard was sitting at a small desk leaning forward with one hand rubbing his brow as he spoke rapidly on the telephone.

“Hold them right there … what did they have on them? … oh, my God! … traitorous assholes!” He looked up, saw the two men and began to get up from behind the desk. “Okay, Dick, you get back to me first thing tomorrow our time. Good night … I mean morning.…” He put down the receiver and moved around the desk to shake hands with the Australian.

“Mr. Graham, please sit down.”

The telephone rang as both Graham and Revel took the only two seats in front of the desk.

“Yeah … hold everything. That'll wrap it up for the night….” Rickard slammed down the receiver.

“Well, gentlemen, we've just arrested eight people—five men and three women—in Stuttgart en route from Vienna to Moscow. They'll be charged with illegal passing of restricted and classified military documents. There'll be a closer inspection tomorrow but it looks as if all the documents are part of important computer design specifications for NATO, American nuclear missile systems and the latest in our laser weaponry. Quite a haul. But we've got them!” He paused to take off his glasses. “Thanks to you, Mr. Graham.” His craggy face flashed the briefest of smiles as he focused hard on the Australian.

Graham, embarrassed and a little nervous, nodded as Rickard picked up photos that the Australian had taken in Kiev. “I had the FBI check these today. Eight, those arrested, were identified as either employed by Lasercomp in Europe, or on assignment from the corporation at IOSWOP in Vienna. I want to see how Lasercomp tries to wriggle out of this one.…” He smiled victoriously at both of them.

“Now Mr. Revel has briefed me on your little trip, and I have the CIA version via MI-6, you'll be interested to know, of what you were up to…. Now first, I want to apologize for getting
you over here now, and second, I would like to ask you just one or two questions about your Soviet mission. Only if you're willing, you understand.…”

“I'll answer them if I can, Mr. President…

“Okay. This is off the record completely. You've never met me…

Graham nodded vigorously to that condition.

“Now you were there when Mineva was in Moscow. Did you get any inkling from your contacts of just why the Russians want Mineva as President?”

“I don't think the whole administration does. Only the KGB clique led by Andropolov. It seems to be wielding the power right now … but if I may say so, you've made yourself unpopular with the KGB clique.…”

Graham paused. Rickard nodded for him to continue.

“You're a definite threat to their plans for internal control and expansion outside Soviet territory. Halting the flow of Cheetahs halts their arms build-up. They don't like you confronting them. The arms deal with China has meant there can be no love lost between you and the KGB.…”

“Hmmmm … why do you think Lasercomp helped Mineva in Moscow?”