The Matarese Circle - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,45

suite two-eleven. A woman will answer. Ask for me." "Will she be furious, darling?" "She won't know who I am. But someone else will."

Taleniekov leaned against the brick of the dark alleyway across from the hotel. For several moments he let his body sag and rolled his neck back and forth, trying to ease the tension, reduce the exhaustion. He bad been trav- eling for nearly three days, flying for more than eighteen hours, driving into cities and villages finding those men who would provide him with false documents that would get him through three immigration stations. From Salonika to Athens, Athens to London, London to New York. Finally a late afternoon shuttle flight to Washington after visits to three banks in lower Manhattan.

He had made it; his people were in place. An expensive whore he'd brought from New York and three others from Washington, two men and an older woman.

Adl but one were well-spoken nichivo, what the Americans called hustlers.

Each had performed services in the past for the generous "businessman" from The Hague, who had a proclivity for checking up on his associates and a penchant for confidence, both of which he paid for in large sums.

They were primed for their evening's employment. The whore was in the suite of rooms that was the Bem-Washington depot; within minutes Scofield would know it. But Beowulf Agate was no amateur; he would receive the news-from a desk clerk or switchboard operator-and send another to question the girl.

Whoever it was would be seen by one or all of Taleniekov's birds. The two men and the older woman. He had provided each with a miniaturized walkie-talkie no larger than a hand-held recorder; he had purchased four at the Mitsubi complex on Fifth Avenue. They could reach him instantly, unobtrusively. Except the whore. No risk could be taken that such a device would be found on her. She was expendable.

One of the two men sat in a booth in the dimly lit cocktail lounge with small candle lanterns on each table. Beside him was an open attacb.6 case, papers pulled out and placed under candlelight; a salesman summarizing the events of a business trip. The other man was in tke di i g room, the table set for two, the reservation made by a highly placed aide at the White House. The host was delayed; several apologetic calls were received by the maitre d'. The guest would be treated as befitted one receiving such apologies from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

But it was the older woman Taleniekov counted on most; she was paid well above the others and with good reason. She was not a nichivo at all. She was a killer.

His unexpected weapon. A gracious, articulate woman who had no compunction about firing a weapon into a target across the room, or plunging a knife into the stomach of a dinner companion. Who could, on a moment's notice, change her appearance from the dignified to the harridan-and all shades in between. Vasili had paid her thousands over the past half-dozen years, several times having flown her to Europe for chores that suited her extraordinary talents. She had not failed him; she would not fail him tonight. He had reached her soon after landing at Kennedy Airport; she had had a full day to prepare for the evening. It was sufficient.

Taleniekov pushed himself away from the brick wall, shaking his fingers, breathing deeply, forcing thoughts of sleep from his mind. He had covered his flanks; now he could only wait. If Scofield wanted to keep the appoint- ment-in the American's judgment, fatal to one of them. And why wouldn't he?

It was better to get it over with rather than be obsessed with every patch of darkness or each crowded street in sunlight, wondering who might be concealed... taking aim, unsheathing a knife. No. it was far more desirable to conclude the hunt; that would be Beowulf Agate's opinion. And yet, how wrong he was! If there was only some way to reach him, tell him!

There was the Matarese! There were people to see, to appeal to, to convincel Together they could do it; there were decent men in Moscow and Washington, men who would not be afraid.

But there was no way to reach Brandon Scofield on neutral ground, for no ground would be neutral to Beo- wulf Agate. At the first sight of his enemy, the American would instantly use every weapon he had mustered to blow that enemy away. Vasili understood, for if he were

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