Shadow wars, p.4
Shadow Wars, page 4
Her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head as she stared back. After two quick breaths, she managed to respond, “No … no …”
The man moved down to the end of the bed and bent forward until his palms were balanced flat on the blanket between the two. Hard eyes peered through the mask slits, settling first on the woman, then her husband. “I want you to know you are not alone. There are others just like you, important people, people vital to Germany, people vital to other nations, being asked to make similar contributions. Initially, their decisions, like yours, will be difficult, but I predict in the coming years you will be considered a patriot.” He straightened and said, “You and I will be in contact in the future, but…” and he leaned forward again and pointed directly at the judge, “… but you will never know who else might be the one to represent me when you least expect it.”
When the intruders were gone, the bedroom was as silent as death itself. Neither the man nor the woman sensed the other’s breathing. Minutes passed before either the judge or his wife were able to look at each other. And there were tears in their eyes when they did so because they knew their comfortable lives had just changed forever.
“How’d you pull that one off, Ryng? You’re the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to have a chief like Gannett running your section,” Chance commented after he recognized the voice on the phone. “That guy saved my neck more than once.”
“I had my pick when I agreed to take this job. It was either take this or hang it up. Your recommendation got him here, you know. The only problem Gannett’s had so far is waking me in the middle of the night. Then he couldn’t tell me why I had to call you. What gives?” Ryng asked.
“You’re not on a secure line there, are you?”
“The whole world can listen to us, David, so don’t start talking dirty.”
“What the hell, Bernie, I just wanted to tell you about my love life. I’m enjoying life in Vail, skiing my ass off, and the women are more than friendly.” The pause was obvious. “Sometime I have to tell you about this gorgeous blonde by the name of Kat I was skiing with today.”
It was Ryng’s turn to pause. “Is this another score you’re going to rub in my face?”
“This is the one who’s so exciting I can’t tell you about her with the whole world listening, but I’m willing to share her with an old buddy. Why don’t you call me back on your secure line if you want her phone number.”
“You’re on, old buddy. Don’t leave where you are now. I’ll be in my office in half an hour.”
Four-hundred-fifty miles to the southeast in Budapest, the capital city of Hungary, a slight, gray-haired man awakened from his sleep and rolled to one side, his head lifted from the pillow to listen. The muffled meow of a cat again floated up to him from the kitchen below. For a moment, he was tempted to wake his wife and suggest she go down to the kitchen to find out why her cat was disturbing their sleep. But a soft, contented snore appealed to his better instincts. The president of the country, a man who deeply believed that no one person was better than another, climbed quietly from the warm bed and put on his bathrobe and slippers without waking his wife.
The dim light of dawn was filtering through the smoky panes of glass in the ancient windows of Hungary’s presidential residence, in reality his own home because he considered himself no better than any other citizen, as he made his way downstairs. These old stairs, smoothed by centuries of shuffling feet, creaked as he pulled the bathrobe tighter and tucked his hands under his arms against the morning chill. The cranky sound of a cold diesel engine, the local milk truck, drifted down the empty street, followed by the more demanding sound of the cat coming from the kitchen.
He swung open the door with one hand and automatically snapped on the wall switch with the other as he entered the kitchen. A movement behind him was sensed rather than heard, and he whirled with his hands instinctively drawn up in front of his chest for protection.
“Meow.” It was the sound of a cat but it was made by a man with his hands cupped to his mouth.
“We knew you were an animal lover, Mr. President,” said the man with the gun pointed at his chest. The man was the former head of the country’s former secret police. He indicated the device on the end of the barrel. “This is silenced in case you were wondering.”
“How did you get in here?”
“You are a very open man, a very public man. And you are also foolish about the ways of the world. You made the mistake of assuming that your own good will would touch everyone so you could reduce the size of your personal security force. As a result, the section assigned to this residence last night was just four men, one of whom belongs to me. He helped to neutralize the others for us and—”
“And he lives while good men die.”
“Not quite, Mr. President. He was never aware of the fact that we can’t leave any witnesses. If one out of four men responsible for your survival was to have survived himself, it wouldn’t look good. And, believe me, there are members of your security force who still employ the proper methods to make people talk. It was unfortunate that we had to dispose of our own man.”
The president indicated his attire and asked, “May I sit? Obviously I’m not armed.”
“I’m afraid not. It would be foolish to delay our business and allow someone to come upon us.” The sound of the once distant diesel engine had drawn closer. “The daily milk truck will be arriving and we mustn’t keep it waiting.”
“You’re taking me—”
“Put these on.” An overcoat, a woolen ski hat, and some boots were thrust at the president. “We can’t have someone recognizing you, and I guess we should make you as comfortable as possible in this cold.”
The sound of the truck halting outside and the diesel engine idling was the signal.
“We haven’t a moment to waste. Come now. You won’t be harmed as long as you follow instructions.”
“But I—”
“Really, do you want to be forced to join us? I don’t want to hurt you if that can be avoided.”
The president allowed one of the others to help him on with the coat. The ski hat was pulled down around his ears. He shoved his feet into the fur-lined boots placed in front of him.
The former general opened the side door, glanced both ways, then signaled with his hand. They hustled the president out the door and down the alley to the waiting milk truck. As the sliding door was closed behind them and the truck began to move down the street, a needle was plunged into the back of the president’s neck. He was unconscious in seconds.
The truck worked its way down the next few blocks, making its customary stops, until it came to Peace Park, the end of its route. Then it turned in the direction of its garage. Anyone noting its progress would be able to report that every movement was customary.
But it never stopped at the garage. It continued into the country, north toward the city of Vac. It turned off the highway long before Vac and proceeded to a farm at the end of a long dirt road. There the truck was driven down into a deep pit that had been hollowed out that night beside the barn.
As a bulldozer began to fill the pit around the vehicle, the general took it upon himself to eliminate the unfortunate driver of the milk truck. There was always the possibility that he could have been noticed by someone at the plant as a new man when he picked up the truck. As soon as the pit was filled, fresh, steamy cow manure was pushed over the remaining dirt pile. It froze quickly. During the coming days, the pile of manure would continue to grow. It would be spring before anyone would ever think of spreading it on the fields.
Bernie Ryng’s line was secure. There was no way it could be tapped.
“Thanks for getting back to me, Bernie,” Chance responded. “I don’t think I trust people out your way yet even though the newspapers tell me everything’s copacetic.”
“Nothing’s copacetic, believe me,” came the instant reply. “Now tell me about Kat.”
“Wait a minute. Whoa. Tighten that belt of yours. First of all, it was all brother and sister between me and this blonde, but tell me who this Kat is and why you’re so excited before I get started.” Chance was sure he knew Bernie Ryng as well as anyone alive, and one aspect of Ryng’s life that had never changed was his love life. To Chance’s knowledge, there had been only two women Ryng ever acknowledged falling in love with—and both of them were dead. Though Ryng had never said as much, Chance knew his friend blamed himself—his relationship with them—for their deaths. Perhaps the only thing Bernie Ryng feared was the possibility that one more good woman might meet the same fate.
“If we’re talking about the same Kat, we’re talking about Katherine Ellyson, the daughter of the current ambassador in this country. And until a few days ago she seemed to have had a crush on me, one that I was willing to encourage. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that, David. You know me. No more than a silly crush, an affair perhaps. That’s enough for me. But Kat’s more than that. She won. I don’t mind telling you it’s a hell of a lot more than a crush this time. But just as fast as she said she loved me, she decided to go to Vail—said she was scared and had to think about us. Maybe it was because I’m so much older. Shit, I’m old enough to be her father, and don’t think I haven’t worried about that. Hell, David,” he concluded with frustration, “I didn’t know what to say to her when she said she wanted to think. You know how I’ve avoided this sort of thing.”
Chance whistled softly. “I don’t know how I get involved in these things. She was using daddy’s condo and apparently you’re the Navy character that caused daddy to suggest she come here. But that’s not the only funny part, Bernie. I made a date with her after we skiied together. Hadn’t heard your name, of course, or I would’ve backed off. She wasn’t at her condo when I showed up. As a matter of fact, it didn’t look like she’d ever been there. The place was absolutely spotless, not a trace of her. And her neighbor was as surprised as me. When I heard the name, Prague, and that her old man was a big deal there, I figured you were the one to call.”
“David, you know …” Ryng paused. “No, forget that,” he seemed to say more to himself. “I’ll tell you what. I think things are even more complicated than it sounds. Don’t ask me why. It’s just a shot in the dark right now. If something wrong’s happened to Kat, it’s because of her father, I’m sure—nothing to do with me. How secure do you think your phone is there?”
“This place belongs to Jaquith. I can’t imagine how anyone would dig into this line just because they thought you and I might be talking. Why?”
“Cancel your vacation. I promise I’ll square it with you later. Just get back to D.C. and hang around Mac’s desk. I’ll arrange to have a set of orders written up for you because I’m going to need your ass bad right here.”
“What about Kat?”
“Don’t even think about it again. Better they don’t know anything about you as long as possible. I’ll get someone on it after we hang up. We’ll let the spooks take care of it.”
Ryng placed the phone gently back in the cradle before squeezing his fists tightly together until the nails dug into his palms. Then he took half-a-dozen deep breaths, struggling to keep his eyes open because he knew he would see an image of her reaching out to him. Had it been long? Forever? No, not that long. More like a year but really less than a week. Kat … oh my dear lovely Kat, are you remembering our last time together … ?
Bernie Ryng remembered clearly. Oh, so very clearly.
Night air too crackly cold to snow hard nipped at their faces as they strolled along Wenceslas Square. It was a wide street really, a boulevard rather than a square, and it was closed to cars. With crystalline flakes of snow reflecting the shop lights, they crossed back and forth to window-shop, stopped to kiss playfully as the mood struck, told each other funny stories about their lives, and marveled at the great, good fortune of being together and in love in magic Prague.
“I’ve heard … stories about SEALs,” Kat began hesitantly as they neared the top of the square. “Are they all true?”
“Some, I suppose. Most improve with age. But you didn’t hear them from anyone I know, not from men who’ve been SEALs. We don’t tell those stories.” He stopped and, when she turned to him, held her face in his hands. “No, the stories you’ve heard probably aren’t true. But there are a lot of stories about things that did happen that I’ll tell you some day when I know everything about you. I want you to hear them from me, not someone else. Does that sound all right to you?”
Kat nodded. “If that’s the way it should be done, then I’ll wait.”
“That’s the way it should be done. I have a lot of friends I want to show you off to, and I want you to understand them first.” He turned and extended his arm. “Come on. We promised ourselves to go all the way to the top of the square before we went back for dinner.”
The flickering candles were visible before they could see the kneeling figures. Ryng had never been there at night. During the day, he’d seen the little pools of colored wax, the wilted flowers strewn by the wind, both heartfelt tributes to the beginning of the Velvet Revolution. This was where the students had been savagely beaten by the police just a few years before—this was where it had started. This was also where it had ended so quickly.
They were almost on top of the two people before they saw the light flare up and pass from one candle to the next. Kat put a finger to her lips. Her arm went around Ryng’s back and she held him tightly. They watched silently as the candles were set into multicolored pools of wax. Then the couple who were on their knees leaned toward each other, kissed gently, and rose to their feet. As they turned to leave, they stared at the older couple for a second, inclined their heads slightly in greeting, and murmured something in their native tongue before moving off into the night.
“Students,” Ryng whispered.
“Their eternal flame.”
“It goes out sometimes, when no one’s around to—”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s not enteral. For them, it never goes out. This is where hope started for them again. That’s what matters.” She extracted her arm, and pulling his head down to hers whispered, “For us, too. Hope. Eternity.” She kissed lightly. “Now let’s have that dinner you promised.”
They retraced their steps from Wenceslas, crossing through Old Town Square to the restaurant Gannett had told him about. It was exactly as promised, small, intimate, exquisite food, everything that new lovers dreamed of. And it was romantic, almost a brings-tears-to-your-eyes romantic, more than Ryng had ever hoped for again at his age because he’d never believed there was one more chance to be the type of lover one only read about in books. By the time they were sipping coffee, he couldn’t remember what he’d eaten because he was convinced he was the luckiest man on earth.
Kat glanced at her watch. “Oh, look at the time, Bernie. We only have fifteen minutes.”
“To do what?”
“Why, to see the Old Town Hall clock strike the hour.”
“See?”
“Hurry up. You’ll be glad you met someone who knows her way around town when you see it.”
The Old Town Hall was no more than a five-minute walk away in Old Town Square. Prague’s Old Town was a fairyland, an open-air museum that allowed one to step back into time. Curvy, cobblestone streets, many too narrow for cars, were a labyrinth that ended in a square of colorful Romanesque buildings squeezed side by side, and presided over by the Old Town Hall.
Ryng glanced at his watch. “Mine says it’s past the hour.”
“It is. This is Prague’s great tourist attraction. It starts at two minutes past. Watch.”
At exactly two minutes after the hour, the doors above opened and the procession of Christ and the Twelve Apostles began. The life-size figures marched past the doors and seemed to face the crowd as Death, below, tugged on a bell with its bony hand. The skeleton was flanked by a musician and a miser clutching a money bag. The silence, broken by whispers of awe, was finally broken at the end by the crow of a golden rooster.
“Worth it?” Kat asked softly.
Ryng looked down into deep blue eyes. “A thousand times more than you’ll ever understand.” For just a moment, time had ceased to exist.
She winked up at him. “Don’t start pulling that older-than-thou routine on me, Captain, or the kisses stop right here.” Then she rose on her tiptoes for another kiss. “I’m an awful liar. Let’s walk back home over the bridge.” Sparkling flurries of snow continued to drift down as they wandered down cobblestone streets to the river that flowed through the center of the city. Like Wenceslas Square, the Charles Bridge was also closed to cars. Statues of saints and sinners alike, dappled with a frosting of snow that sometimes swirled over them, stared sightlessly into time as Bernie and Kat strolled across the ancient bridge. They stopped once to look over the edge at the frozen Vltava River below. Then their eyes locked on each other.
“I love you,” her lips mouthed soundlessly.
His own lips silently echoed hers, seemingly without direction. How long had it been since he could say that? “Too long,” he whispered, glancing up to thank those unknown saints whose stone eyes watched over thousands of couples who’d mouthed those same words in myriad languages.
They were on the Mostecka, ambling toward the embassy, when Kat asked, “Where are you taking me now?”
“The embassy, I guess, before I turn into a pumpkin, or a frog, or whatever happens if you don’t kiss me again.”
“I don’t want to go there.”
“Okay. Lady’s choice tonight. You lead the way.”
“How far is it to your apartment?”
“You don’t want to go to that hole-in-the-wall.”
“How far?”
“Not far,” he hedged. “Half-a-dozen blocks.”
