by Arno Baker
On the evening of June 30, Savigny was driving his MG roadster on the Grande Corniche near Èze overlooking the spectacular coastline of the French Riviera. He was taking a week off with his wife Ghislaine before flying to Hanoi. Suddenly the lightweight sports car was sideswiped as he attempted to pass a heavy truck on the two lane highway. The unexpected impact caused him to lose control of the car that crashed through the protective fence and went tumbling 600 feet into a ravine where he and his wife were instantly killed. The death was ruled an accident and the driver of the truck who made no attempt to stop, was never found.
The elimination of all the secondary participants in the Baltic meeting continued. Kurt Dietrich, the German foreign legionnaire, was killed in what appeared to be a knife fight with a group of thugs. The incident took place outside a bar in Aubagne, near Marseille, where the Legion was headquartered. He was waiting to be transferred to Algeria. No suspects were named in the murder that remained unsolved and barely received mention in the local newspapers.
Col. Bergman’s turn came almost at the same time. He was killed when his military transport plane crashed on takeoff in Munich. No foul play was detected during the investigation of that accident ruled as engine failure. The common thread in each one of these accidental deaths was the presence in the area of a man who closely resembled John Castelli but the detectives were never made aware of that simple fact.
Only the two marines were spared probably because they were on duty on board naval vessels for long tours of duty and remained scrupulously silent about their short adventure in the Baltic Sea.
On the first floor of the Lubyanka, Beria and Merkulov were awakened in their cells at 2 a.m. Several officers and guards were standing in the hall as the cell doors were opened. Beria was belligerent.
“Why isn‘t Khrushchev here, that slimy dog? I have a few things to tell him. He was on the list, on Stalin’s secret list as a pro-American Zionist agent along with Molotov, his wife and Mikoyan, I saved that fucking pig’s life! I should have slit his throat myself!”
An officer gave the order to gag Beria who fought off the soldiers.
“No, no, you listen, listen to me, I know so many secrets, so many dirty secrets... that’s why they must kill me, why I have to die...they can’t allow me to live one minute longer…but they are dogs, slimy snakes…they will kill you, each one of you, eventually they must liquidate you all…”
Beria was overpowered and marched down the corridor. Merkulov went quietly. Khrushchev, perspiring heavily, was watching from a two way mirror in an adjoining room as the execution took place in the cellar. Shots rang out muffled by the thick walls, there were screams, then Khrushchev wiped the heavy sweat off his forehead. He instinctively looked around and for a brief instant feared that he too...But there was silence and the sound of the guards marching as their boots hit the cobble stones of the cellar with a metallic sound.
XXXI
New York, Hell’s Kitchen, 1999...Jack Harrison was elated as he walked into the new offices of Belmont Books, four small but comfortable rooms he and his two partners had rented on Tenth Avenue near 38th Street in Hell‘s Kitchen. He flashed the signed contract as if it were a banner and sat at the conference room table with a grin. Susan and Bill were impressed by Jack’s exploits in Russia. Bill, the super editor who had decided to join the Belmont venture, thought their future was now on track possibly for spectacular success. But there was more. Susan, a bright twenty four year old Barnard graduate, said,
“There’s a foreign sounding man who has been calling for you. I had to explain that you were out for many days. Couldn’t catch his name properly, something like Lukachev, Lubachev…? Definitely a Russkie sounding voice.”
Jack was on a different planet and already thinking how to square the meager start up money they had managed to cobble together with the advance he had offered Feklisov.
“Lubachev? Never heard of him. If it‘s important he’ll call back…”
The call came through again around noon. The accent was definitely Russian sounding but Jack had never heard the name or the voice before.
“My name is Igor Lunacharsky, we have never met but a mutual friend gave me your name and number, Mr. Alexander Feklisov…”
Suddenly Jack stopped looking at the papers piled up in front of him and was all ears. He was fearful that the Russians, namely Feklisov and his entourage, could have second thoughts about entering into a sensitive contract with an upstart company. He wouldn‘t have been surprised if they were to revoke it before they even began the process of publication!
“Oh yes, of course, and how may I help you?”
“Well, the easy way, the simple way, is for us to meet in the lobby of my hotel, the...Roger Sherman on Lexington Avenue and have a drink at the bar?”
“Yes, of course...but what is the purpose of your call if I may ask?”
“I would prefer to discuss this with you when we meet. Shall we say in thirty minutes?”
Jack glanced at his watch, there was just enough time to walk quickly across town to the East Side,
“Ok, I shall be there.”
Jack knew that he should exercise caution when dealing with strangers especially when he was about to publish the revelatory memoirs of a famous spy. He took the Times Square Shuttle subway and posted himself across the street from the hotel with ten minutes to spare. The Lexington Avenue traffic flashed past in heavy waves and clouds of thick gasoline fumes. Susan rang him on his cell phone to say that she had checked and was told that no Igor Lunacharsky was registered at the Roger Sherman. So now Jack knew that the very first words the man had uttered were a lie, pure and simple. What else could he have in store for Belmont Books? From the opposite corner he looked discreetly at the entrance and noticed an athletic young man with a two day beard, shaved head and a black leather jacket entering the hotel. He figured it had to be Lunacharsky and he looked like a thug. As Jack went through the swivel doors the man was smiling broadly as he waited near the door. He came up to him with a friendly gesture.
“Hi, I am Igor, and you must be Jack!”
Igor offered a hard, bone crushing handshake, the kind of brutalization you never forget. They agreed to adjourn to the bar. Jack had decided to do as little talking as possible. No doubt the man had that ugly “nouveau” professional gangster look and conveyed a disagreeable impression because of the sharpness of the cologne he had doused himself with almost as pungent as women‘s perfume. The contrast between the fragrance and his looks was rather comical. They ordered two beers.
“I will get right to the point, Jack. I represent a financial group based in Kuala Lumpur, Global Marine, acronym ‘Glomar.’ The group is listed on the exchange in KL and is specialized in communications satellites, film properties, and television programs. Glomar has a considerable capital base. Easy to look up: GloMarKL. A few board members are of Russian origin and have a keen interest in Colonel Feklisov’s memoirs to the point that they ardently wish to see the book succeed in the English–speaking universe.”
Jack knew he had to respond but the punch line was still missing so he limited himself to a non-committal,
“Sounds interesting.”
“I am glad you agree, especially since your Belmont Books is a micro start up in search of more than one author!” he laughed at his attempt at culturally highbrow humor but checked himself almost immediately since Jack remained poker faced.
“Well, what can I say: like Bill Gates you have to start somewhere…” he said quietly.
“Correct, but if you get a nice push Mr. Harrison, it will certainly help, don‘t you agree?”
“Of course.”
“Good, then let me just say that Glomar wishes to produce a documentary in two parts 90 minutes each based on the book and Feklisov’s experiences as a spy in the United States during World War II and in the 1960s. The production would be handled by a team of our choosing obviously, the objective is to present the film during the launching of the book: publ
icity and advertising cross-fertilizing all around. The budget for the documentary is planned at well over $1.5 million not including a $500k ad campaign. Clearly the book will benefit greatly from all this.”
Jack now had to either begin sounding positive or simply bow out of the entire deal, something he was loath to do. Still he felt nervous about the man’s appearance, his rough manners and those threatening looks that were rarely found in the polite and still old world universe of literary publishing. Igor talked and behaved like a coarse truck driver who had managed to graduate from a third rate business school.
“It will give the book a shot in the arm, I agree.”
Igor smiled and went on,
“In this context there is an additional proposal for your company to consider. I must stress that you should give it most serious thought. Glomar-KL is prepared to extend a grant to Belmont Books, no strings attached, at least officially. It would be counterproductive for us to pour over one million dollars into a film and then have the book publisher float on the high seas on his meager funds. Therefore coupled with the film we would extend a $2 million bonus grant to Belmont to ensure both our investments, so to speak. We plan to make our money with the documentary as a pilot for a cable espionage series to be licensed worldwide and the kickoff of an international espionage channel that will make millions.”
Jack was now staring at this complete stranger unable to suppress an expression of profound disbelief. But he managed to distance himself enough from the prospects of such a windfall to retain control of his thinking.
“But Mr. Lunacharsky, for that kind of money I have to assume that you will want something very substantial in return. What exactly do you have in mind?”
Igor smiled and ordered another round of beers. Then with a flourish he produced his Blackberry-cum-super calculator as if he were ready to sign-off on the transaction then and there.
“Simple enough: you temporarily assign your contract with Feklisov to Glomar-KL until the book is printed and distributed, at that point the contract will automatically revert to Belmont. We will handle relations with Feklisov from here on in. If you sell over 20,000 copies you pay us a symbolic royalty, something like 3%. Glomar’s interest is in the television series and cable channel so it will have to come to Belmont with other projects each one to be executed on a separate contractual basis. This could mean twenty to thirty new titles per year for Belmont for five years all of them fully financed by Glomar-KL. The only provision is that Belmont will never reveal the origins of the funding or the reasons behind the choice of titles. Obviously we are looking to greatly expand book sales via satellite, e-books and so on.”
It didn‘t take more than a few seconds for Jack to understand what was going on with this skinhead ruffian who sounded as if he‘d jumped out of a bad 1970s mafia movie. The SVR wanted to ensure its investment for the longer term: they had assumed early on that the book wouldn’t be accepted by the major houses like McAndrews. The reason was that the big publishers would balk at having to invest too heavily to create a “positive” image for the Russian author who was also a major spy. The campaign could easily backfire with potentially damaging legal entanglements. The best course was to pick a hungry minor league player, a true startup with no funds of its own, thus giving Glomar-KL as much leverage as possible. With Belmont they could pilot the whole project from beginning to end with hungry Jack Harrison on a very short leash.
“I know that Feklisov will provide you with a translated text very soon …” Igor went on.
“So you are familiar with the details of the contract?”
Igor smiled and looked at Jack straight in the eyes as if to signify that he was already “owned” by the “organs” and should refrain from asking silly questions.
“I read the text while you were still in Moscow.”
Igor sat back in his armchair and just looked at Jack with an ironic little smile. His shaved head made him look like a malevolent alien. Jack was fearful that he had placed himself and his partners in a dangerous position,
“I...I must consult with my other investors...”
On cue the Glomar-KL man turned decidedly aggressive. His body bolted forward as he put his beer down loudly on the glass table. His voice was low and even hoarse as he forcefully made his point,
“No, no, Mr. Harrison!–he said shaking his head ---This deal is made with the principal, namely you, right here and right now. Your other investors or partners are quite simply your personal responsibility, you must persuade them and if they are recalcitrant send them packing, just like that! One, two, three!”
He snapped his fingers as he spoke in rather crude fashion. Jack would have ordinarily been intolerant of such an attitude and probably called an end to the meeting, but it remained a spectacular opportunity and he had a signed contract making Belmont the owner of the translation.
“And if I disagree?”
“Belmont will lose the Feklisov contract. The colonel will be forced to cancel.”
“But then, I can sue for damages…”
Igor sat back once more with that condescendingly ironic smile,
“Sue? Who? In Moscow? You must be kidding young man! You will not even find a lawyer willing to take the case. I can guarantee you that!”
Jack had a very unpleasant feeling that he had just stepped into a sink hole connected to a cement block. His two partners, Susan the graphic artist and computer technician and Bill Stern-berg, the crackerjack line editor and wordsmith of the McAndrews editorial department were always ready to defer to his “infallible” business judgment but there were limits. He felt responsible toward them both who had believed in his entrepreneurial energy and vision.
Besides, how could anyone argue with two million bucks?
Igor had to be kidding! No one in a small business could refuse that much cash with practically no strings attached. Well, perhaps the strings were invisible to the naked eye but they existed all right and could be tightened at will...
“Still I assume Glomar-KL will want to have a formal agreement…?”
Igor smiled again with his gleaming capped teeth that contrasted with his swarthy complexion.
“The assignment of the contract is enough; the most important agreement is the one you already have with the old colonel in Moscow. Glomar-KL is in the money business, therefore our contract with you amounts to a simple invoice transaction after you assign the Feklisov agreement to us. You receive the funding in the form of payment for services rendered upon presentation of invoices to Glomar-KL for consulting, representation and public relations work...as simple as that!”
“You mean to say you don’t expect anything from Belmont in return?”
Igor got serious once again,
“Listen Harrison, if we give you $2 million or even more for this and other projects, to us, in real terms it’s only chicken feed! We want this book published successfully plus we will request other services later on. So don’t spend the money. Wait for instructions. If you screw things up Belmont would disappear anyway and besides, you may know the Arab saying ‘in the desert even the camels know that you can’t get any water out of a rock.’”
Those chilling words weighed heavily in Jack’s mind and felt stuck between his shoulders like a knife. If he refused and lost the Feklisov memoirs his credibility with his partners and the journalists covering the industry would also evaporate and it might kill the company just as it was starting. On the other hand if he agreed, he would then belong to Igor! That decision had to be made in a matter of minutes, in fact by the end of the meeting. There was no time to call Bill and Susan. But the gambler’s instinct always prevails.
He suddenly heard himself asking a bit sheepishly,
“If I agree now, when do we get the money?”
Igor smiled again. He flashed his Blackberry and produced a preprinted one page letter agreement in duplicate assigning the Feklisov contract to Glomar-KL as he had explained and said,
“I already have the
Belmont account number and routing codes so the money will be wired to your account overnight. Any paperwork we will do retroactively as circumstances warrant. We sign the assignment letter now so all you will really need to show are invoices for the various services Belmont will render to Glomar-KL: public relations, publicity, production, travel arrangements and so on. The money will be in your bank account by tomorrow once I send in the ok by email. As simple as that.—He paused for effect then concluded -- So then? What will it be?”
For some reason Jack felt violated in the confidentiality of his business affairs by someone who knew far more about him than he should. He attempted a comment,
“True, things do become very simple since by some mysterious feat you were able to read the Feklisov contract right after it was signed in Moscow. So now I can only say yes, correct?…There is nothing to negotiate…”
Igor stiffened and suddenly looked hard and angry,
“Don‘t try to get funny with me, Jack. I have been at this game long before you even though I am a few years your junior. I am definitely far tougher than you will ever be, believe me. Getting into denied information these days for an organization such as ours is simply child’s play. There is absolutely nothing we can’t find out and no document we can’t read and reproduce. Unless you are typing on a mechanical typewriter, using carbons and an old fashioned safe there is no real privacy left on this small planet. We have an army of top Russian hackers who have penetrated almost every bank, government archive, secret military files in a matter of hours after they were given the order. These are young nerds who each make a cool half million euro tax free a year! But in any case who is to say the information was denied since we are about to reach an agreement! Your comment is pointless and therefore it doesn’t really matter!”
He managed to humor himself and laughed as he took out his pen and signed both copies of the assignment letter. Jack read the ten lines of text, hesitated then went ahead and signed. Igor dialed a number on his Blackberry.
