Strong fingers gripped the loose cloth of his overcoat, crunching the flesh of his lower rib cage; he was propelled into a deserted aisle. Words were whispered harshly in English.
"I won't bother speaking Greek, or trying to get through to you in Russian. I'm told your English is as good as anyone's in Washington." "Conceivably better than most," said Vasili through his teeth. "Zaimis?" "Never heard of him. We thought you were out of Sevastopol." "I am. Where is Zaimis? I must speak with Zaimis." The American disregarded the question. "You've got balls, IT say that for you. There's no one from KGB within ten blocks of here." "Are you sure about that?" "Very. We've got a flock of night owls out there. They see in the dark.
They saw you. A violin case, Christl" "Do they look to the water?" "Seagulls do that." "You're very well organized, all you birds." "And you're less bright than everyone says. What did you think you were doing? A little personal reconnaissance?" Vasili felt the grip lessen on his ribs, then heard the muted sound of an object pulled out of rubber. A vial of serum. A needle. "Don't!" he said firmly. "Don't do thatl Why do you think I'm here alone? I want to get out." "That's just where you're going. My guess would be an interrogation hospital somewhere in Virginia for about three years." "No. You don't understand. I have to make contact with someone. But not that way." "Tell it to the nice doctors. They'll listen to everything you say." "There's no time!" There was no time. Taleniekov could feel the man's weight shift; in seconds a needle would puncture his clothes and enter his flesh. It could not happen this way! He could not deal with Scofield officiallyl None dare talk. The admissions would be catastrophic. for governments everywhere. Ile Matarese.
If he could be destroyed in Moscow, the Americans would not think twice about silencing him.
Vasili raised his right shoulder-a gesture of pain from the gun barrel in his kidney. The gun was abruptly pressed further into his back-a reaction to the gesture. In that split instant, the pressure point of the hand holding the gun was on the heel of the palm, not the index finger.
Taleniekov's movement was timed for it.
He spun to his left, his arm arcing up, crashing down over the American's elbow, vicing it into his hip until the forearm cracked. He jabbed the fingers of his right hand into the man's throat, bruising the windpipe.
The gun fell to the floor, its clatter obscured by the din of the warehouse. Vasili picked it up and shoved the CIA agent against a boxcar container. In his pain, the American held the hypodermic needle limply in his left hand; it, too, dropped to the floor. His eyes were glazed, but not beyond cognizance.
"Now, you listen to me," said Taleniekov, his face against Zaimis' face.
Chapter Five
"I've known about 'Operation Dardanelles' for nearly seven months. I know you're Zaimis. You deal in mediocre traffic; you're not significant. But that's not the reason I didn't blow you apart. I thought one day you might be of use to me. That time has come. You can accept it or not." "Tateniekov defect?" said Zaimis, holding his throat. "No way. You're Soviet poison. A double entry, but no defector." "You're right. I do not defect. And if that unthinkable option ever entered my mind, I'd contact the British, or the French before you. I said I wanted to get out of Russia, not betray it." "You're lying," said the American, his hand slipping down to the lapel of his heavy cloth jacket, "You can go anywhere you want," "Not at the moment, I'm afraid. There are complications." "What did you do, turn capitalist? Make off with a couple of pouches?" "Come on, Zaimis. Which of us doesn't have his small box of resources?
Often legitimate; funneled monies can be delayed. Where's yours? I doubt Athens, and Rome is too unstable. I'd guess Berlin or London. Mine's quite ordinary: certificates of deposit, Chase Manhattan, New York City." The CIA man's expression remained passive, his thumb curled beneath his jacket's lapel. "So you got caught," he said absently.
"We're wasting timel" Vasili barked. "Get me to the Dardanelles. I'll make my own way from there. If you don't, if a telephone call is not received here in Sevastopol when expected, your operation is finished.
You'll be-,, Zaimis' hand shot up toward his mouth; Taleniekov grabbed the agent's fingers