dead, don't they?" "It's a gargantuan error." "It always is," said Zaimis, frowning. "You trust him?" "You heard him. When do you sail?" "Eleven-thirty. Two hours. Roughly the same time that confirmation's due back from Moscow." "I'll be here." "I know you will," said the agent. "Because I'm going with you." "You what?" "I've got protection out there in the city. Of course, I'll want my gun back. And yours. We'll see how much you want to get through the Bosporus." "Why would you do this?" "I have an idea you may reconsider that unthinkable option of yours. I want to bring you in." Vasili shook his head slowly. "Nothing ever changes. It will not happen.
I can still expose you and you don't know how. And by exposing you, I blow apart your Black Sea network. It would take years to re-establish.
Time is always the issue, isn't it?" "We'll see. You want to get to the Dardanelles?" "Of course." "Give me the gun," said the American.
The restaurant was filled, the waiters' aprons as dirty as the sawdust on the floor. Taleniekov sat alone by the right rear wall, Zaimis two tables away in the company of a Greek merchant seaman in the pay of the CIA. The Greek's fare was creased with loathing for his surroundings.
Vasili sipped iced vodka which helped disguise the taste of the fifth-rate caviar.
The cryptographer came through the door, spotted Taleniekov, and weaved his way awkwardly between waiters and patrons to the table. His eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses conveyed at once joy and fear and a hundred unspoken questions.
"It's all so incredible," he said, sitting down. "What have they done to you?" "It's what they're doing to themselves," replied Vasili. "They don't want to listen, they don't want to hear what has to be said, what has to be stopped. It's all I can tell you." "But to call for your execution. It's inconceivablel" "Don't worry, old friend. I'll be back-and, as they say -rehabilitated with honors." Taleniekov smiled and touched the man's arm. "Never forget.
There are good and decent men in Moscow, more committed to their country than to their own fears and ambitions. They'll always be there, and those are the men that I will reach. They'll welcome me and thank me for what I've done.
Believe that.... Now, we're dealing in minutes. Where is the cable?" The cryptographer opened his hand. The paper was neatly folded, creased into his palm. "I wanted to be able to throw it away, if I had to. I know the words." He handed the cipher to Vasili.
A dread came over Taleniekov as he read the message from Washington.
Invitation Kasimir. Schrankenwarten five goals, Un- ter den Linden. Przseslvac zero. Prague. Repeat text. Zero. Repeat again at will. Zero.
Beowulf Agate.
When he had finished reading, the former master strategist of KGB whispered, "Nothing ever changes." "What is it?" asked the cryptographer. "I didn't understand it. It's no code we've ever used." "There's no way that you could understand," answered Vasili, anger and sadness in his voice. "It's a combination of two codes. Ours and theirs.
Ours from the days in East Berlin, theirs from Prague. This cable was not sent by our man from Brussels. It was sent by a killer who won't stop killing." It happened so fast there were only seconds to react, and the Greek seaman moved first. His weathered face had been turned toward the incoming customers. He spat out the words.
"Watch it! The goats are filthyl" Taleniekov looked up; the cryptographer spun in his chair. Twenty feet away, in an aisle peopled by waiters, were two men who had not come in for a meal; their expressions were set, their eyes darting about the room. They were scanning the tables but not for friends.
"Oh, my God," whispered the cryptographer turning back to Vasili. "They found the phone and tapped it. I was afraid of that." "Followed you, yes," said Taleniekov, glancing over at Zaimis, who was half out of his chair, the idiot. "They know we're friends; you're being watched. But they didn't find the phone. If they were certain that I was here, they'd break in with a dozen soldiers. They're district VKR. I know them. Calmly now, take off your hat and slide out of your chair. Head toward the back hallway, to the men's room. There's a rear exit, remember?" "Yes, yes, I remember," sputtered the man. He got up, his shoulders hunched, and started for the narrow corridor several