Scofield, he would do the same. So it was a question of wait- ing, circling, knowing that each thought the other was the quarry who would expose himself first; each maneuvering to cause his adversary to make that mistake.
The terrible irony was that the only significant mistake would come about if Scofield won. Taleniekov could not let that happen. Wherever Scofield was, he had to be taken, immobilized, forced to listen.
Which was why the waiting was so important now. And the master strategist of East Berlin and Riga and Sevastopol was an expert in patience.
"The waiting paid off, Mr. Congdon," said the excited voice over the phone.
"Scofield's on a charter out of Tavernier in the Florida Keys. We estimate he'll arrive in the Virgin Islands the day after tomorrow." "What's the source of your information?" asked the Director of Consular Operations apprehensively, clearing the sleep from his throat, squinting at the clock on his bedside table. It was three in the morning.
"The hotel in Charlotte Amalie." "What's the source of their information?" "They received an overseas call asking that the reservation be held. That he'd be there in two days." "Who made the call? Where did it come from?" There was a pause on the other end of the State Department line. "We assume Scofield. From the Keys." "Don't assume. Find out." "We're confirming everything, of course. Our man in Key West is on his way to Tavernier now. He'll check out all the charter logs." "Check out that phone call. Let me know." Congdon hung up and raised himself on the pillow. He looked over at his wife on the twin bed next to him. She had pulled the sheet over her head. The years had taught her to sleep through the all-night calls. He thought about the one he had just received. It was too simple, too believable. Scofield was covering himself in the haze of casual, spur-ofthe-moment traveling; an exhausted man getting away for a while. But there was the contradiction: Scofield was not a
man ever exhausted to the point of being casual about anything. He had deliberately obscured his movements... which meant he had killed the intelligence officer from Brussels.
KGB. Brussels. Taleniekov.
East Berlin.
Taleniekov and the man from Brussels had worked together in East Berlin.
In a "relatively autonomous section of KGB"-which means East Berlin. and beyond.
In Washington? Had that "relatively autonomous" unit from East Berlin sent men to Washington? It was not unreasonable. The word "autonomous" had two meanings. Not only was it designed to absolve superiors from cer- tain acts of their subordinates but it signified freedom of movement. A CIA agent in Lisbon might track a man to Athens. Why not? He was familiar with an operation. Conversely, a KGB agent in London would follow an espionage suspect to New York. Given general clearance, it was in his line of duty. Taleniekov had operated in Washington; there was speculation that he had made a dozen trips or more to the United States within the past decade.
Taleniekov and the man from Brussels; that was the connection they had to examine. Congdon sat forward and reached for the telephone, then stopped. Timing was everything now. The cables had been received in Amsterdam, Marseilles and Prague nearly twelve hours ago. According to reliable informants, they had stunned the recipients. Covert sources in all three cities had reacted to the news of Scofield's "unsalvageable" behavior with some panic. Names could be revealed, men and women tortured, killed, whole networks exposed; no time was to be lost in eliminating Beowulf Agate. Word had been relayed by early evening that two men had already been chosen as the killers. In Prague and Marseilles; they were in the air now, on their way to Washington, no delays anticipated regarding passports or immigration procedures. A third would be leaving Amsterdam before morning; it was morning now in Amsterdam.
By noon, an execution team totally disassociated from the United States government would be in Washington. Each man had the same telephone number to call, an untraceable phone in the Baltimore ghetto. Whatever infor- mation had been gathered on Scofield would be relayed by the person at that number. And only one man could give that information to Baltimore. The man responsible: the Director of Consular Operations. No one else in the United States government had the number.
Could one final connection be made? wondered Congdon. There was so little time and it would take extraordinary cooperation. Could that cooperation be requested, even approached? Nothing like it