Operation Blue Sapphire

by David B. Gilmore

  On the drive to Rurik Kulikovskaya’s house, it became evident to Jacques that their American captors knew the way. He realized they had been there before, and more importantly, they had obviously had him under surveillance for some time. He wasn’t sure, but he had a sinking feeling that the two sitting in the front seat were probably not the only ones the Americans had sent. Zacharie and Margaux were probably under surveillance, too. As he looked at Simone, he felt like a fool for underestimating how important Phillips had been. What was happening now wasn’t about revenging a friend’s death but something far more important.

  Simone met his eyes and spoke over the drone of the car’s engine. “Jacques,” she said, speaking in French. “I’m scared. You shouldn’t have told them anything.”

  “I couldn’t take the chance that he would hurt you.”

  “But now that they have the money, they’re going to kill us.”

  “The money isn’t what they’re after. If it was, we’d already be dead. They want more information. That’s why we’re going to Rurik’s. But don’t worry, we’ve all worked too hard for the money. I’m not going to let these two walk away with it.”

  Simone looked at Jacques. “Be careful what you say, they may speak French.”

  “I doubt it. If they did, they’d be in Europe doing something against the Nazi’s, not here in India.”

  “How are we going to get out of this?”

  “We keep playing up the idea of opening up a second front against the Japanese. It appeals to them. Under no circumstances do we let them know our real goal is to fight the communists, not the Japanese. I’m taking them to Rurik because he’s our only hope. He isn’t going to like this, us just showing up. When we do, he’ll know something’s wrong. We’ll owe him for this, but we’ll be alive and it’ll give us the time we need to get the weapons and get out of India. We don’t know who else knows about us. So, our time here is over.”

  “If Rurik doesn’t kill us for bringing danger to his door.”

  “Greed has always worked. It will again.”

  “Let’s just hope it does. Jacques, I don’t like any of this and I’m scared.”

  “Don’t worry, everything’s going to work out. Always after the rain is nice weather.”

  A half mile from Kulikovskaya’s farm, Emma directed Bunnel to pull the car over. Bunnel glanced in the rearview mirror and didn’t see any headlights behind him. Slowing the car down, he eased it to the left off the road and onto a field.

  “Shut the lights off and step out for a minute. Set the parking brake and keep the motor running.” Emma picked up her purse, exited the vehicle, and walked to the front of the car. Taking her cigarette case out of her purse, she took one and offered one to Bunnel. Quickly packing it against the case, she was ready when Bunnel reached toward her with his Zippo to give her a light.

  “What’s on your mind, Emma?” asked Bunnel.

  “Did you hear the conversation they were having in the back seat?”

  “Some of it, they were speaking pretty softly and in French. So I didn’t understand much.”

  “What do you know about our involvement in Indochina?”

  “You mean the OSS?” asked Bunnel.

  “Yes.”

  “No particulars. I imagine we have something going on there, but like everything else, unless we’re directly involved, for security reasons we’re kept in the dark. With Indochina’s proximity to China, I would think we’d have something in the works, but nothing I can substantiate. Why?”

  “I didn’t hear all of their conversation, either, but enough. A couple of things. First, they want the weapons to use against the communists, not the Japanese.”

  “Wow! Now that I wasn’t expecting. In other words, in the middle of a war, they want to start a civil war. Let us take care of the Japanese for them, and meanwhile, they have their own venture going. What’s the other thing?”

  “When we get to the Russian’s, they’re going to try to escape. Again, I didn’t get all of it, but we shouldn’t expect too warm of a welcome when we get there.”

  “That I pretty much expected,” agreed Bunnel.

  “So we have a decision to make,” Emma continued. “I’m doubtful we’ll get anything from the Russian. With these two we had leverage, the fear we would harm her. The only thing we have against him is they say he built them a bomb. If he’s smart, there won’t be any trace of it.”

  “As far as I can tell, we have two choices. We can continue on or we can kill them now.” Bunnel took a drag from his cigarette. “The final decision is yours and I’ll support whatever you decide.”

  “I’m not concerned about their weapons supplier. Jacques told me the Russian isn’t in on it, but I’m fearful he either is or will put it all together. Either way, our operation is still in jeopardy.”

  “So, we continue?” asked Bunnel.

  “We do. Final thing, we take the handcuffs off.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Bunnel.

  “If we come to the door with them wearing bracelets, we’ll probably be shot on sight. It means we’re going to have to keep our guard up, but I don’t see any way around it. Besides, we have to give them hope. Without it, things could get out of control real quick, and we have to keep every bit of control we have.”

  “I’m not happy about it, but I agree with you. We need to keep the element of surprise for as long as we can. But if they do anything stupid, I’m shooting first and asking questions later,” Bunnel warned her.

  “Agreed. If it comes to that, do what you need to do.” Emma crushed out her cigarette into the soft dirt with her toe. “If you’re ready, I’ll go get them out of the car. We might as well get this over with.”

  With Bunnel at her side, Emma opened up the back door of the car and told Jacques and Simone to get out.

  “Jacques, I’m not getting out of the car. If we get out, they’re going to kill us!” cried Simone.

  Emma leaned into the car, “No one is going to kill any one. This is what’s going to happen. You two are going to get out and we’re going to take the handcuffs off. Then we’re going to go visit your Russian friend. If either one of you tries to escape or tip off your friend, then we won’t hesitate. You won’t have time to wonder what happened to you,” Emma’s eyes focused directly on Simone’s. “I think I’ve made myself clear enough. Get out of the car, NOW!”

  Jelena Kulikovskaya looked out her kitchen window and saw a car turn into the long driveway and slowly make its approach to the house. “Rurik, someone is coming up the drive. Are you expecting anyone?” she asked.

  Rurik joined her in the kitchen and looked out the window. “What the hell? Not at this hour.”

  “Who do you think it could be?”

  “I don’t know, but chances are it isn’t good,” replied Rurik.

  “Do you think it’s the authorities?”

  “No, if it was, it wouldn’t be just one car.”

  “Maybe someone’s lost?” asked Jelena.

  “It could be, but we can’t take a chance.”

  Jelena picked up a pistol off the kitchen table and slowly slid the action back to make sure it was loaded. “I know what to do,” she said as she made her way to the back of the house and quietly stepped out a back door.

  Watching from behind a curtain at a window near the front door, Rurik heard the crunching of gravel beneath the car’s tires, then the car stopped and he heard the engine turn off. When the car doors opened, he saw four individuals step out. He waited until they were almost to the door before he turned on a light switch, flooding the yard with light. The tension in his mind eased a bit when he recognized Jacques and Simone. Still, he opened the door with guarded caution.

  “Sorry to bother you this late” said Jacques. “We brought you some customers.”

  “Customers?” asked Rurik.

  “They want to buy cocaine, a lot of it.”

  As a security precaution, they had always kept the business separat
e. Jacques and Zacharie Chevalier had imported opium, and now cocaine, through the import firm where they worked. Rurik had taken care of the sales. Never before had Jacques brought him a potential buyer. Rurik was unsure if this was a ruse or an opportunity. “Let’s go in the living room,” the Russian said after a pause.

  The only illumination in the room was a small electric lamp on an end table by the sofa. Walking into the room, Emma noticed a pistol tucked behind Rurik’s belt in the small of his back and motioned to Bunnel. Before Kulikovskaya could sit down, in a lightning fast move, Bunnel had disarmed him and had him seated on a long leather sofa.

  “Jacques, what the hell is this? Who are these people?” asked Rurik.

  “Jimmy, make sure there’s no one else in the house. Jacques, Simone, sit down on the sofa,” said Emma, drawing her gun and taking charge of the situation.

  Rurik looked at Emma holding her revolver on him, calmly glanced at the lamp, then at Jacques, and back at Emma. Jacques put his hand on Simone’s knee and moved forward to the edge of the sofa. Before anyone could say a word, Rurik knocked the lamp off the table and retrieved a pistol from the seat cushions of the sofa.

  “Take her now!” he yelled to Jacques and Simone.

  Rurik’s efforts were too late. When the room went dark, Emma had instinctively hit the floor and had begun firing her weapon. All of her rounds met their marks in the shadowy figures of Rurik, Jacques, and Simone.

  Reloading her revolver in the dark, she heard another gunshot in the back of the house, followed by three more. Quietly, she rose from the floor and stayed as close to the living room wall as possible as she looked down a hallway from where the additional shots had been fired. Hearing the sound of leather-soled shoes approaching on the hardwood floor, Emma aimed her revolver down the hall and was ready. Then she heard a familiar voice call her name and wasted no time in responding.

  Bunnel reached into his pocket, retrieved his Zippo lighter, and soon found light switches. “Emma, what happened?” he asked as he came into the living room and saw the bodies of Rurik, Jacques, and Simone, with Emma checking for signs of life.

  “The Russian decided to rush me while you were out of the room. What happened back there?”

  “When the shooting started, I was making my way back here. A woman came in a back door and took a shot at me. She missed and I let her have it.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house?” asked Emma.

  “No, unless there was someone outside with her, but I looked and didn’t see anyone.”

  “This happened fast. I didn’t see any way around it, we had to disarm him. I wasn’t going to knowingly take any chances.” Emma picked up Rurik’s pistol off the floor and together the two walked into the kitchen where, under better light, she examined the weapon. “Tokarev TT-thirty-three. It’s Soviet, and Soviet issue.”

  Bunnel placed an identical one on the table beside it. “This is the one the woman tried to shoot me with.”

  “That explains things a bit more. I think these two were not only working together, they were involved in more than just selling narcotics.”

  “NKVD?” asked Bunnel.

  “There’s a good possibility of it. It explains why he went on the offensive right away, and he had a contingency plan, which was her. We would do the same thing. Make sure the doors are all locked, we don’t want anyone walking in on us, then let’s search the house. Be thorough and don’t leave anything unturned. I’ll start in here while you check the bedrooms.”

  While Emma was still searching the kitchen, she heard Bunnel yell, “Jackpot. Come in here!”

  Emma walked into a small bedroom that had obviously been used as a workroom. When she entered, Bunnel was standing in front of a small closet, smiling. “It just didn’t make sense,” he explained. “It should be a lot deeper than it is. The back’s a false front. It took a few minutes, but I figured out how to get in.”

  “What’s inside?” asked Emma.

  “Take a look.”

  Inside, Emma saw a stack of cash, bundles of what she presumed to be narcotics, and a ledger book.

  “I didn’t find any bomb-making materials, but I’ll keep looking,” said Bunnel.

  While Bunnel emptied the contents of the compartment, Emma examined the ledger. At first she thought the numbers in the book represented receivables. Then she noticed several numbers, and beside them was a familiar address. “Jimmy, look at this. It’s money going out.”

  “But to whom?”

  “I don’t know all of the addresses, but I do know this one. It’s the address of Kaaliya Gurjar. He’s head of the Confederation of Indian Workers. I know because I’ve been there. Vern took me, and remember, I was followed that day when I left there. Vern lost him in the market. Later, I saw the same man at the Great Eastern Hotel.”

  “You must have ruffled some feathers when you interviewed Gurjar.”

  “And here, too. The Soviets are helping the independence movements. While Preston was analyzing, the Soviets have been trying to rig the outcome. They not only think independence is coming, but when it comes they want people friendly to them to come out on top.” Emma glanced at another page of the ledger. Scribbled on it was nothing more than a telephone number. “We could have Vern find out for us, but I’ll bet you this is the number for the Soviet Embassy.”

  Bunnel laughed.

  “Jimmy, what’s so funny?”

  “Oh, the irony of it all. Talk about the right hand not knowing what the left hand—no pun intended—is doing. Don’t you see? We have four corpses in the house. All of them were selling opium and cocaine to make money. The Russians were using their profits to ensure a communist victory and the others were using their money to start a civil war against the communists. It just doesn’t get any better.

  “Preston stepped in something,” said Emma. “He just didn’t know what.”

  “What do you want to do now?”

  “We’ll take everything out to the car. Then, I know it will be difficult, but we need to wipe the place down for fingerprints the best we can. After that, we close all the curtains and lock all the doors and windows. That should buy us a few days until the bodies are found.”

  After changing their clothes and showering, Emma and Bunnel drove to the Chevaliers’ neighborhood to find Miller. On the dimly lit street, Miller’s car was easy to find, as it was one of the only ones still parked on the street. Bunnel pulled in behind him, Emma got out and knocked on the passenger window, and Miller unlocked the door. She slid into the front seat and they spent several minutes bringing each other up to speed on the night’s events.

  “Sorry I missed the excitement,” said Miller. “It’s been pretty quiet here. After driving by the girl’s house and to the du Mauriers’, they came home and haven’t left. I think they’re in for the night.”

  “I think so, too. If anything, they’re trying to figure out what happened to their friends,” agreed Emma. She rested her chin in hand for a moment in deep thought. “Vern, we’re going to need some things. Can you get us a truck? Not something big. Main thing is having it enclosed.”

  “Like a sedan delivery?”

  “That would be perfect.”

  “Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem. What else do you need?”

  “Get it in the morning and then bring it to me here, and when you do, bring the twenty-two.”

  “With the silencer?” asked Miller.

  “Yes, and a box of cartridges.”

  “Will do, Emma. Anything else?”

  “Vern, how far is the ocean from here?”

  “Probably seventy to a hundred miles. What do you have in mind?”

  “I want to hide something where no one will find it.”

  Miller laughed, “You don’t need to go that far. The Hooghly River is three hundred feet deep. Anything you sink in there isn’t ever going to be found.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. What do you have in mind?”

  “Those fi
fty-five gallon drums you have in the yard, are they empty?”

  Miller opened his hands toward Emma, “I just need to cut the tops off of them. I use them to burn garbage.”

  “Good. Get with Henri, he knows how to weld. Get him whatever he needs, and in the morning have him cut the tops off the drums. When he does, have him do it so he can weld them back in place.” Nodding now as if checking things off on a list, she added, “We’ll also need a boat. Something not too large. I’m sure you’ve seen them, something like the Navy uses to ferry men from ship to shore. Something about that size. Again, talk with Henri. Probably some Navy uniforms, too, if you can scrounge them up.”

  “Anything else?” asked Miller.

  “A train schedule. I want to know the times of departures going from here to New Delhi, and from there to the closest city to the Nepalese border. I know that sounds strange, but don’t worry, it will all fit into place. The only threat to the girl now is the Chevaliers. Jimmy and I’ll make sure they don’t get to her. Get Henri, and you two go home and get some sleep. You can make the arrangements for everything in the morning.” Emma reached into her purse and gave Miller a set of keys. “These are to the du Mauriers’ house. On the way back, make sure their car is parked at their house, wipe it down for fingerprints, and lock the house and gate when you leave.”

  “Will do, Emma. What about you? You and Jimmy are going to need some sleep.”

  “We’ll take turns here in the car.”

  “I’ll bring you some food, a fresh thermos of coffee, and some more cigarettes when I bring by the sedan delivery.”

  “Good,” replied Emma. When she returned to her car, Bunnel was fast asleep.

  Sunday evening Zacharie Chevalier sat in his study at his desk. Margaux brought him a cup of tea, set it down on the desk, and sat in a chair across from him.

  “You’ve been sitting in here all day. Jacques is not going to call. They’ve taken the money and they’re gone. Zacharie, you have to realize they’re not coming back.” She shrugged and added, “Don’t worry, you and Rurik will make more money, and somehow we’ll figure out a way to get in touch with the Council.”