The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (13 page)

Still, he resolved to change the locks on the apartment.

The next two hours were all that Karel could hope for. Fiala was energetic and enthusiastic, a welcome change from the reticence Ivana had shown over the past weeks. Fiala pressed against him anew, but he was exhausted. His head sunk into the pillow and his eyelids closed.

The buzz of the phone jarred him awake. The call was from Vienna. The man spoke English like an American.

“Gustav has gone to the Americans. He’ll tell all he knows about you if they will protect the ‘Goldfinch.’ That’s the CIA’s code for ‘Ivana.’ He wants them to give her asylum.”

Karel did not speak. Gustav had no human feelings or emotions, and he hated the Americans. Why was he desperate to protect the girl?

His silence prompted the caller to speak further.

“She texted him her plans. She knows you’re watching her car. She’s headed for Ruzyne Airport by metro and bus.”

Karel wanted to scream, but he did not wish to alienate this informant. He took a deep breath .

“This is most helpful. Thank you. You will be rewarded.”

Karel jumped from the bed and made two brief phone calls, one local, one to the United States. Then he stood in thought.
Ivana, what have you done to Gustav? What hold do you have on him?

The damned “Goldfinch” was now a major problem!

Fiala opened her eyes. She pouted.

“Karel, why are you up? Come back here.”

He looked at her, and shrugged.
Why not?
He had done all that could be done for the moment.

Moments later he was on top of her.

Ivana left the Metro at “Dejvická.” Head lowered, she walked to the waiting bus, 119. It was the end of the line, or rather, the beginning of the return trip to Ruzyne International Airport.

Most of the seats were empty. She chose one by a window, halfway back. She stacked her backpack on the aisle seat to discourage any potential occupant. Then she leaned her head to the side and pretended to sleep.

All the while, she vigilantly observed each new boarder through half-closed lids. One man in particular unsettled her. His shoes were shiny leather and expensive. He did not belong on a bus. He chose a seat between her and the front door.

The last man to board appeared to be American. He stopped and studied her backpack, as if to move it. She held it firmly in place. Her signal was clear. He backed away.

He sat behind and opposite, next to the window. Ivana pushed herself further against hers.

At last, the driver engaged the gears and the bus pulled away.

On the bus to the airport, Bill Hamm was in a quandary.

The young woman seated across from him matched the description of “Ivana Novotna,” but under that kerchief her hair was short and black. He had expected long blond tresses.

Her behavior was the key. She was clearly on the run. And her destination was Prague’s Ruzyne International Airport.

This must be the “Ivana” he sought.

Bill Hamm worked for the CIA out of the United States Embassy in Vienna. The day before, he and his coworkers had received an alarming text message from a known assassin and former Communist, Gustav Slavik. He appeared desperate.

A stockpile of deadly “Novichok nerve agents,” ostensibly destroyed by the Russians to comply with the Chemical Weapons Convention, had been secretly transported to the United States by former Czech Communists under the aegis of the pharmaceutical giant, Hus-Kinetika. Gustav would share what he knew of the secret stash in exchange for American protection and asylum for a young woman, Ivana Novotna, who also had evidence of the conspiracy.

The scenario stretched all credulity. Nerve agents were incredibly difficult to handle, and many had died doing so. Still, Hus-Kinetika had the means and knowledge to store the material Gustav described. But Gustav was vehemently anti-American. What hold could “Ivana” have on him that he would seek help from his enemies? The team’s inclination was to ignore his allegations as some sort of ruse.

Then Bill Hamm’s friend, Jeannine Ryan, had called and told him of the problems in Hus-Kinetika’s report on Xolak. Two negative references to the giant company in one day tipped the scale. Bill and his partner Tom had flown to Prague to investigate. There, another text from Gustav stated that Ivana was on her way to the airport.

For someone on foot, the logical route from Ivana’s office to the airport was by metro to the “Dejvická” stop and thence by bus to the airport. Bill had waited at that stop. When the young woman appeared and boarded the bus, he had done likewise.

The bus ground its gears towards Prague’s Ruzyne Airport.

Bill watched the man with the expensive shoes shift in his seat and fidget with his phone. His hands moved constantly.

Opposite him sat a mother with her young son. The boy slept on her shoulder. Doubtless, she was a single mother who had worked late. He was sure they were not headed for the airport. They would likely leave the bus soon.

He settled in his seat.

Across from him, a weary Ivana feigned sleep and tightened her grip on her pack.

In Prague darkness had fallen. Bill Hamm studied the riders on the bus. The interior lights, though dim, made mirrors of the windows, reflecting the activities of the various passengers.

Hamm’s attention was directed to the man seated several rows in front of Ivana. While on his phone, he periodically checked on her image in the window across and behind him.

The bus stopped. The mother hustled her young son out the door. A woman, fashionably dressed with phone in hand, mounted the steps. She paused to survey the seats and chose one directly behind Bill.

The doors of the bus closed, the gears ground, and the bus was underway once more.

Minutes later, the lights of the airport brightened the sky ahead.

Bill sat up, muscles tensed. The reflection of the woman behind him revealed her staring onto the street. She showed no interest in anyone.

The phone in his pocket vibrated. It was Jeannine calling from Bethesda. He pushed “Talk.”

“Bill, where are you? Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Someone is there? You can’t talk now?”

“No.”

“But can you listen? This is important.”

“I can.”

The woman behind him leaned forward towards his seat. Bill turned away towards his window. Jeannine spoke rapidly.

“Last Saturday we got a package from a man named Pokorny ... worked for Hus-Kinetika. ... His memo proved that they faked data for Xolak just like we said. ... And other papers, newspapers, marked up. ... Last night they trashed the office. .... I had the papers with me to copy. ... Beat up Aileen, barely got away to North Carolina. ... She’s safe, but we’ve talked. ... Hus-Kinetika may have nerve gas called ‘Novichok,’ .”

Bill’s pulse quickened at the word “Novichok,” but before he could reply, the bus driver hit the brakes for a red light.

Across the way, Ivana stood up and reached for her backpack.

The woman behind Bill jumped to her feet.

In her hand was a semiautomatic pistol.

At her desk in Bethesda, the next few seconds were like minutes to Jeannine. She no longer heard Bill’s voice.

The sounds on her phone were like a rasp drawn over the edge of a metal sheet. Amid that static, she heard grunts and heavy breathing followed by a distinct moan and a woman’s cry.

Then nothing. The connection was broken.

Bill!

Bill Hamm knew no Czech. In accented German he called to the bus driver. The traffic light had not changed.

“
Helfen Sie mir
. ‘Help me.’ This lady fell. She needs a doctor, now.”

He pointed to the fashionable woman crumpled unconscious in her seat. At the same time he seized the backpack from Ivana and took her arm. He whispered.

“
Bitte, Fräulein
, please come with me. That woman tried to kill you. I will help you.”

The man wearing fine shoes stayed in his seat and reached for his cell phone. He wanted no part of Bill. He had seen him handle his partner.

Ivana was numb. She, too, had seen Bill subdue her attacker. She did not resist.

Bill pointed to the back door and spoke to the driver again.

“
Öffnen Sie die Tür, bitte
. ‘Please, open the door.’”

The driver complied.

Bill pushed Ivana off the bus. She stared at his hand. In it was the weapon the woman had intended to use on her. Bill caught her glance and tossed the gun under a hedge.

Through the windows, they saw the driver lean over the groggy woman. The well-dressed man up front spoke on his cell phone.

Ivana stood shivering. Bill spoke.

“
Ivana ist dein Name?
”

“
Ja
.”

“Do you speak English?”

She looked up and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good. My German is so-so and my Czech is non-existent.”

Bill pointed to the glow in the sky that indicated the airport not far ahead.

“We can’t go to the airport. They’re waiting for you, and there will be too many of them. Do you trust me? Will you come with me.”

She managed to nod, “Yes.” What else could she do?

Bill turned to his phone.

“Tom, you’re in the airport parking? I have her. Pick us up. We’re a mile away. Hurry. The bad guys know she’s here.”

The only houses were on their side of the highway. Across the way, gray fields alternated with tracts of leafless hardwoods.

Bill hustled Ivana across. They dashed for the nearest trees and sought shelter behind a large oak. Ivana slumped at the base of the trunk and closed her eyes. She did not speak.

The moonlight accented her high cheek bones. Bill studied her features. Ivana was attractive.
Jeannine!
He bit his lip.

She needed to know that he was all right. He reached for his phone, but his pocket was empty. Apparently it had fallen during their dash across the roadway. He looked up as a car approached from the direction of the airport. A bright beam pierced the shadows and probed the roadside. A spot light.

Tom’s car had no such light!

Bill jumped behind the oak.

Just in time.

The beam struck the trunk of the tree and paused. Bill pulled Ivana to the ground. She lay still, her body pressed against him. Through his jacket, he felt warmth. He held her tightly.

The light wavered above them.

The car stopped.

In Bethesda, Jeannine had waited for more than an hour. Finally the phone on her desk rang.

“Bill, are you all right?”

“Jeannine? This is Aileen. Why did you think I was Bill?”

Jeannine recounted to her partner the fateful phone call. Aileen hesitated.

“Do you want me to get off the line in case he calls back?”

“We won’t talk long, and something tells me he can’t. But I need to know more about what happened. Are you all right?”

“I hurt, but I’m managing. At least Peter got me away from that madman Gustav. We’re with two people. Jim Harrigan is a cop. He’s the one who called us and wanted us to give Pokorny’s package to the police. Mila Patekova is a realtor here on the Outer Banks. Her cousin, Anne Simek, is missing.”

“Who did you say? What was that name?”

“Simek, Anne Simek, she is ... ”

“No, before that. Was Jim’s name Harrigan? Bill knew a ‘Harrigan’ at the CIA. Ask him if he ever worked there.”

The phone went silent. Then Aileen came back on the line.

“One and the same. He remembers Bill well.”

Jeannine was about to speak further, when her phone clicked.

“Aileen, I have a call. It could be Bill. I’ll call you back.”

Jeannine checked the calling number. It was Bill Hamm’s.

“Bill, what happened? Are you all right?”

But the caller wasn’t Bill. She heard what to her was gibberish.

“Prosim, kdo jste? Našel jsem tento mobilní telefon.”

She did not recognize the language.

“Please, who is this? Do you speak English?

“No English, Czech. Aber, sprechen Sie Deutsch?”

At least she knew that was German.

“Nein. No. I speak English, please. ... English.”

The caller was as confused as Jeannine.

“Phone, I find this phone on road. Yours is last call.”

“Please, who are you? Where are you?”

The caller tried two languages.

“Jsem v Praze, na letišti Ruzyně, ... auf dem Prager Flughafen Ruzyně, ...”

At Jeannine’s silence, the caller struggled with English.

“Prague Airport. Ruzyne Airport, Prague.”

“Prague! How did you get this phone. Where is the owner?”

Loudspeakers drowned out the answer. The caller tried again.

“I find in road. My plane leaves. I put phone to Informace desk, ... Auskunft, ... You find there.”

The line went dead.

Jeannine’s hand shook. She put the phone down.

My God, Bill, Prague? And your phone? What happened?

She sat, elbows on the desk, face in her hands.

It was afternoon in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Karel’s men sat in the Excursion. If “mood” had a color, theirs’ was “black.”

First, they had been angry when they awoke in Grandy and found their prey gone. Zeleny and the Simek woman had tricked them. Second, they had driven to Kitty Hawk in the hopes of spotting the pair. No luck.

After that, a furious Karel had called from Prague. Gustav now was the number one target, not Simek. He was to be eliminated immediately. Yesterday was not soon enough!

And Karel blamed them for Ivana’s flight!

No more excuses.

In Jim Harrigan’s apartment in Duck, Aileen retreated directly to the kitchen while Jim, Mila and Peter Zeleny sat around the coffee table in the small living area. Their strategy was to hope that Anne would call Mila whose phone lay on the table.

The discussion was loud. The phone was silent.

Aileen sat at the kitchen counter. She rested her head on her arms to avoid pressure on her swollen face. A dull pain in her shoulder provided a constant background to the throbbing behind her eyes. Finally they closed and she dozed.

She awoke to a touch on her arm. Mila stood next to her.

“Dr. Harris, this apartment is too small to sleep. I have a house in Corolla that has more room. Are you up to moving?”

“I guess. Are we leaving now?”

Mila nodded and helped her up. They left for Corolla.

At the Moccasin Cottages in Coastal Carolina, the sun was low in the West. Anne Simek, alone and scared, stood on her porch. Far out on the Albemarle Sound, the lights of a single craft shone through the evening mist. Across the inlet a lone Osprey sat on a rubble of sticks atop a dead Pine. The landlady had told Anne that some Ospreys stayed the year round. Anne wondered if that bird felt as alone as she.

And Anne was plagued by the cabin’s roaches. She had now seen six. Large, they ran making scuttling noises. Her thoughts turned to Mila. She had been trustworthy about the roach-free rental. But about Vaclav?
Mila, you should have told me?

She studied the small green chip in her hand. Its files were password-protected. Whatever they contained, someone was willing to kill for it, and that same someone was looking for her!

At that thought, Anne decided. She put Vaclav’s chip in her purse, loaded laptop and bags into the Focus, and went to the office to pay the bill. Minutes later she was back in her car.

All right, Mila. You win. I need help and you’re it.

She headed for Nags Head and Mila’s house.