Target, p.14
Target, page 14
“Will he do it?”
Petrov seemed amused at the doubt. “We’ve softened him just sufficiently,” he said. “Do you have a scientist?”
“Already selected,” said the American. “German-speaking, of course. You?”
“Her name is Gerda Lintz; she’s a brilliant physicist.”
“A woman?” queried Peterson.
Petrov smiled sideways. “In the Soviet Union we arrived at the equality of sexes a little earlier than the West,” he said. “We put one in space, remember?”
“It isn’t a Russian name.”
“She’s German-born; that’s why I’ve selected her.”
“I think field back-up is essential, despite the people I’ve already lost,” said Peterson.
“Of course.”
“I thought ten.”
“That would be about right,” agreed Petrov. He recalled the uncompromising face of Oleg Sharakov. “I think there’s going to be a problem of command here,” he said.
“I couldn’t put a company of American soldiers under Soviet control,” said Peterson.
“Nor could I agree to American supremacy.”
“We’ll have to brief them very thoroughly.”
“No matter how thorough, there’ll still be difficulties,” predicted the Russian. “An army unit can’t be commanded by committee.”
“On this occasion it will have to be.”
“We’ll have to retain tight control from outside,” said Petrov.
“That won’t be easy.”
“More difficult for me than for you,” said the Russian. “We don’t have any countries in the area sufficiently friendly to allow the sort of access I’d need.”
“I wasn’t thinking about a country,” said Peterson, moving quickly to secure the advantage for himself.
“What then?”
“A ship,” said Peterson. “We’ll need some fairly sophisticated electronics.”
Petrov appeared to consider the suggestion. “If you were established in the Gulf of Guinea,” he said, debating the idea with himself, “I could keep in contact from Odessa. We’ve a large communication center there, to monitor the Mediterranean.”
This would give him command status, realized Peterson, with a sudden flare of excitement. The President would see it as a positive coup.
“It would seem a good enough arrangement,” said Peterson. He tried to make it sound insignificant.
“Could you put a vessel there?” said Petrov.
“Yes,” said Peterson. Petrov hadn’t realized, thought the American.
“Let’s agree on that as the communication link,” said Petrov. As he spoke, the Russian turned, and for a moment Peterson thought he had belatedly realized the concession and was going to change his mind. Instead Petrov shook his head very slightly and said nothing.
They came to the end of the avenue of booths and turned left along an intersection. There was a sudden snap of firing from a shooting gallery and Peterson jumped involuntarily. He quickly looked sideways at Petrov, embarrassed at such a reaction among so much noise. The Russian appeared not to have noticed.
“Is that all you’re thinking of — a deep penetration unit and someone inside the complex?” asked Peterson, wanting to move the conversation on.
Petrov turned to him again. “What else?” he said.
Peterson hesitated, feeling another bubble of satisfaction, this time at being able to improve upon the planning. He tried to curb it, cautious of overconfidence. It was going extremely well. Patiently he explained the witchcraft symbols that Williams had discovered and the idea of introducing a phony priest into the area.
“That’s good,” said Petrov immediately. “That’s very good.”
The supremacy had switched, Peterson decided: he was leading the planning now.
“You’ve got a man?” queried Petrov.
“Yes. He trained for several years to be a priest, before joining the Agency. Will you be able to find someone?”
“Of course,” said Petrov, immediately. He seemed to realize the quickness of his reply and smiled again, awkwardly this time. “But I’d have difficulty in providing the proper cover,” he admitted.
“There’s a Catholic charity which the Agency completely supports financially,” said Peterson. “Cover will be easy.”
“Between us,” said Petrov, reflectively, “we control a very impressive degree of expertise.”
“And power,” expanded Peterson. “It’s a thought that might upset some people in my administration.”
“And certainly within mine,” said Petrov, remembering Litvinov. It was almost time to seek protection and inform the Politburo. It wouldn’t be an easy encounter.
Petrov stopped again, facing the American.
“If everything works, I want to reach an understanding with you,” he said.
“What?” asked Peterson.
“All records of this association must be destroyed.”
Peterson gazed at the other man. “You’d trust me, to provide everything?”
“You’d have to trust me. We’ve both of us gone too far now to be completely safe.”
“Agreed,” said Peterson. “I’ll make everything available.”
“I give you my word, in return,” said Petrov, sincerely.
Petrov didn’t mean it, Peterson knew. Any more than he did.
“BADRA is receiving a gold transfer tomorrow,” disclosed Peterson. “In Zürich.”
“You intercepting?”
“The Israelis.”
“Would there be any point in exposing the interception, so that the Jews were seized?” suggesed Petrov.
Peterson considered the idea, gauging the advantages. “We’ve no reason at the moment to draw attention away from ourselves,” he said. “Surely better to let it go ahead and create some confusion in Libya and Chad.”
“Gadaffi will replace it easily enough.”
“But it will make them nervous.”
“You’re right,” accepted Petrov. “Let’s not interfere.”
They came to the big wheel again and once more Petrov stopped, gazing up. “I’ve never been on a thing like that,” he said.
“It’s boring, I believe,” said Peterson.
“There would be a marvelous view of Vienna.” He turned to the American. “Why not?” he said, grinning.
Even though he saw it as another advantage, Peterson still felt self-conscious following the Russian into one of the glass booths. If there was a need to use the photograph later, they could erase his presence from it, Peterson thought, as the attendant secured the safety bar across their laps. It shuddered upwards, swinging on the pivots as other cars were filled behind them. As they got higher, Peterson stared around, identifying St. Stephan’s cathedtral and the Schönbrunn palace in the old part of the city, and nearer at hand the Nazi-built anti-aircraft tower in the Augarten which had defied all city attempts at destruction.
“My God,” said Petrov. “If my people could see me now!”
They might, thought Peterson.
“What about briefings?” said Petrov, turning back inside the cabin.
“We maintain safe houses here in Vienna,” said Paterson.
“We have one nearby, at Melk.”
“Why don’t we alternate?”
“Fine,” agreed Petrov.
Unexpectedly, the wheel stopped at the very apex of the turn and the booth swung back and forth again.
“In the film,” said Petrov, “Harry Lime threatened to kill his friend, just about now.”
“I remember.”
“But he didn’t. And then later the friend killed him.”
“I hope we haven’t made a mistake,” said Peterson.
“So do I.”
The wheel heaved into motion and they began going down to earth again. He’d achieved a lot, Peterson decided.
Otto Bock hunched in the window seat of the apartment, hands clutched around his body, as if he were in physical pain. He was perspiring but still felt cold. He shivered, unwilling to return to the bedroom for a robe. He knew the danger had always been there, but never imagined that it could happen to him; to other people, perhaps, but never to him. The self-pity swept over him. It wasn’t fair. He’d done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of. He hadn’t hurt anyone, not like Jurgen had hurt him. Or caused any embarrassment or scandal. He tried to quiet himself, to rationalize the problem. It could be worse, he supposed. There could have been money demands, which he couldn’t have met. Or the request for classified documents, which would inevitably have led to his detection and arrest. He supposed the computer details were secret, but he didn’t think of them in the same way as papers.
There had to be a dozen people, maybe more, with clearance as high as his; there would be no way that what those dreadful men wanted him to do could be traced back to him, once he had done it. He had no choice, Bock realized. If he didn’t want his job and his family destroyed, he would have to do what they told him. The shivering increased and he began to cry, his shoulders heaving with the sobs. Because of the weeping, he didn’t hear Gretal enter the room; she was behind him, with her hand against his back, before he knew of her presence. He jumped, at first startled and then annoyed.
“What is it?” she said.
“Nothing.” He didn’t have a handkerchief so he tried to dry his face in the sleeve of his pyjamas.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are,” she insisted. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”
“I said it’s nothing!”
“Shall I get a doctor?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Come back to bed.”
“I don’t want your bed.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she said pointedly.
He started to cry again, careless of her knowing. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have happened to somebody else?
14
Israel apportions a third of its annual budget to defense expenditure and therefore regards the holding of a substantial secret, foreign bank account which denies income to the country not only as illegal but almost traitorous. Accordingly they give their currency control inspectors wide ranging powers. They work closely with the Mossad, hence David Levy’s knowledge of the illegal Zürich account of Menachai Levitsky. Head of one of the country’s leading diamond firms, Levitsky travelled extensively, both to South Africa, which supplied the uncut stones, and to Europe and America, which purchased the finished, polished products. Frequently the transactions were in cash and unrecorded. This made it difficult for an accurate official check on his exact income and therefore comparatively easy for the establishment of the Zürich account. But despite pressure from the control commission, Levy had refused to make any move against Levitsky. Instead he had used his superior authority to prevent any prosecution whatsoever. Unlike his government, Levy looked for an advantage beyond monetary income and realized he had found it even while he had been sitting in Peterson’s office, learning of the gold transfer from Libya to BADRA. Within an hour, from the communications room at the Israeli embassy in Washington, he had initiated a check on Levitsky’s whereabouts and when the reply came, almost immediately, uttered a silent prayer to his continuing good fortune. Levitsky was on a trade mission to the United States, using a ninth-floor suite at the Waldorf Astoria as an office. It had only taken a further hour to have Jerusalem telex the full details of Levitsky’s operation, and by mid-afternoon Levy was in central Manhattan, accompanied by four other Mossad operatives, two of whom were his personal bodyguards. Levy, a consummate professional, had decided on his approach before encountering the diamond merchant. And as soon as he saw Levitsky he knew it to be the correct one. Levitsky was a soft, crinkle-haired man who wore three diamond rings, a cologne which perfumed the room and had an ego to match his portly, six-foot figure. His outraged protests at the accusation were irritatingly rehearsed and Levy bullied him into collapse, shouting details of the $350,000 account into the man’s face and then reciting the penalties that existed if he appeared before an Israeli court. Levitsky, who was not a fool, recognized the consequences through his fear and eagerly demanded the compromise.
The sums of money in which Levitsky habitually dealt meant that it was quite common for him to use after-hours banking facilities, and the Manhattan branch of the Credit Suisse had already alerted Zürich when they arrived at the branch. Because the instructions came from New York and were verified on the telex machine by the name and personal number of the American assistant manager, there was no query from the Swiss headquarters. At the very moment when Levitsky’s orders began to be received in the Credit Suisse cable room, the three agents whom Levy had ordered into Switzerland before leaving Washington and on whose presence Levitsky was insisting at all stages of the gold shipment, were arriving in Zürich. Another of Levy’s Washington messages had activated the Israeli embassy in Berne, so the account at the Swiss Banking Corporation to which Levitsky was making his transfer had been opened by the time the Credit Suisse inquired.
Shortly after Levy had escorted the diamond merchant back to the Waldorf Astoria the telephone call came from the operatives in Zürich, confirming that the Banking Corporation had accepted the instructions of the Berne depositor and those of Menachai Levitsky to allow the three observers to accompany the shipment to their vaults.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Levy said, moving with his companions to leave the diamond merchant.
Levitsky blinked, still unaware of the use to which he had been put. “I’ve transferred a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of gold to an account that isn’t mine,” he said. All the ego was gone, but it was still a muted protest.
“I know,” said Levy.
“But.…”
“Which still leaves you a hundred thousand in the Credit Suisse account.”
“What will happen to the quarter of a million?”
“It’s a fine without the necessity of a court appearance,” said Levy, lightly. “It’ll be transferred to Israel within a few days.
“And that’s the end of it?”
“That’s the end of it,” confirmed Levy. “Look upon it as summary justice and be thankful I let you keep something: I could have taken it all.”
Levy managed the early evening Swissair flight to Zürich. Aware that there would be little opportunity for rest in the coming thirty-six hours, he gave instructions against being disturbed, said he wanted no food and slept the seven-hour flight quite dreamlessly. The three men he had already established in Zürich were personally known to him, and he was confident that while accompanying Levitsky’s transfer they would have acquainted themselves fully with the type of vehicle used, the security precautions adopted, the route followed and established the best place for interception.
It was dawn when Levy arrived in Switzerland. He got immediate diplomatic clearance and was at the Baur au Lac before it was properly light. The three men who had accompanied the gold shipment had been joined by a commando squad of thirty and the grenades, plastic explosive, radios and weapons which had been brought into the country in diplomatic bags had already been moved from Berne.
Levy split the commandos into units of ten, so that only the leaders were necessary in his suite, thus reducing the possibility of curiosity from the hotel staff.
The men who had been in Levitsky’s bullion van had drawn duplicate maps of the route and established — from seemingly casual conversation with the Swiss Banking Corporation guards — that it was the one normally used. So rare was any attempted robbery that it was not considered necessary to vary the route. Levy noted the complacency and marked it as a factor in their favor. The normal journey was parallel with the lake’s Seefeld Suai along Bellerivestrasse, right into the one-way system in Ramistrasse at Bellevue Place, left and beneath the funicular railway on to Seiler Grabenstrasse and from there left again into Stampfenbackstrasse. The driver and front seat guard were secured in their bullet-proofed, wire-meshed cabs by a lock operated within the body of the van by the second guard. All carried pistols. There was a shotgun in the cab and another at the rear. In addition, shotguns were permanently mounted over the two rear wheels, to shoot out the tires if anyone gained admission to the cab and attempted to drive it off. There were two independent radio systems, one medium, one long wave. Levy’s men had obtained the transmission wavelength of each. They had also learned that the Swiss Banking Corporation opens its bullion vaults twice a day, once just after eleven and again just before three.
“Good,” praised Levy. “Very good indeed.”
He travelled the route twice in one of the four cars that had already been hired, then returned to the hotel for the final planning session. He ordered two more cars and two heavy duty vans, identical in color and make. By eight A.M. squads had gone to the railway station bordering the River Sihl and to the tourist information center at the Hauptbahnhof. Both carried smoke devices, plastic explosive charges and radios. By nine A.M. further groups were in readiness outside the Bank of Libya and the Swiss Banking Corporation in Paradeplatz and the main assault force was prepared to move towards the Kreuzstrasse intersection with Bellerivestrasse. At ten A.M. the Swiss Foreign Ministry received a routine application from the Israeli embassy in Berne to fly a Boeing 727 under diplomatic clearance from Zürich airport some time during the afternoon; the agreement was given just as routinely.
There was no movement in the morning. Levy chafed at the delay, knowing it risked taking the edge off the readiness of his men. He occupied the time going to every squad, checking them personally, finding miniscule errors and criticizing them for it, wanting them to become irritated with him: it only needed one section to become complacent and the whole operation was endangered.
The bullion van set out for collection a little after one-thirty. Within ten minutes, every unit was notified. The van arrived at the Libyan bank promptly at one-fifty. A group of bank employees and guards was already waiting expectantly at the side entrance in an alleyway which could be completely secured by placing men at either end. The gold was packed in wooden crates, each fitted with rope handles. It was moved into the van on trolleys, ten boxes at a time.
