by Brian Meeks
Henry looked at his watch and gave a sigh. It was going to take forever to get to the widow's place. When he pulled out of the main flow of traffic, it was a relief. The notebook on the passenger seat had her address. It wasn’t the main house but a smaller home the Kuptons had lived in before Daniel had become wealthy. She had been there since the funeral.
The neighborhoods were nice, and Henry thought about how he was the stranger driving among the quaint homes. The song was still playing in his head when he realized he was lost.
Henry turned around and went back a few blocks, then took a left. He was really lost. If he hadn’t been, he might not have noticed he wasn’t the only one. He had picked up a tail. How long had they been there? Now he was angry; angry at himself for not noticing and angry at the guys following him. They were going to make him late, which he hated.
Henry left the quaint neighborhood and found a small business district. He pulled up and parked on the street and went into a hardware store. The old man stocking shelves asked him if he needed anything. Henry asked for a back door.
The black sedan had parked a block back. Henry went down the alley, crossed the street, and continued another block so he could come up from behind. There was a drugstore on the corner. From there Henry could see the car. He popped in and bought a newspaper and tucked it under his arm with his revolver inside.
Both guys were looking forward, watching the hardware store. They didn’t see Henry coming. He leaned down and said into the passenger window, “Hey, buddy, you got a light?”
“Beat it, Mac.”
They hadn’t taken their eyes off the door and didn’t notice who had asked. Henry decided that he might need to get their attention. He opened the back door, hopped in, and cocked the hammer on the .38. “I think an introduction is in order, as we haven’t met proper-like.”
Both their heads spun around. The driver said, “Hey, take it easy buddy.” His friend in the passenger seat had the cold steel pressed against his temple, so he was less chatty.
“Maybe you wanna explain why you're so interested in me, or is it the wide selection of tools at Peterson’s Hardware?”
“You got it all wrong, buddy, we're just waiting for a friend.”
“Why don’t I just wait with you, then; we can have a talk with your friend. What's his name?”
They guy with the gun against his head found his voice. “Okay, you got us, we ain’t waiting for nobody.”
“Before we get too cozy, why don’t you – real careful now – take the keys out of the ignition.”
The driver turned off the car and handed the keys to Henry. Henry pulled the gun down and put it back under the newspaper. He didn’t want a passerby to notice. “Who do you work for?”
“We’re the good guys. Let me show you. I’ve got ID. I’m going to take it out of my jacket pocket. Don’t shoot.”
Henry watched. The man eased opened his jacket, exposing the gun holstered underneath, removed a leather wallet and handed it to Henry. He closed his jacket back up and put his hands on the wheel. This guy is playing it straight, Henry thought. Henry read the ID and lowered the hammer on his gun. The passenger exhaled. “Mr. Jack Abrahms of the Central Intelligence Agency. Who is your friend?” Henry asked.
The passenger started to reach for his ID, but Henry said, “You don’t need to prove it; just tell me.”
“I’m John Stockman,” he said and then added, “Nice to meet you.”
Jack said, “He’s new. I’m showing him the ropes.”
Henry said, “That is all well and good, but what are you doing following me?”
Jack answered, “You've been looking into Daniel Kupton. He's of interest to us.”
“So, what can you tell me about the night he was thrown from your office at the Woolworth?” Henry was bluffing. He didn’t know what had happened, but the cold look from Jack told him he had landed a solid jab to his chin.
Jack said, “What makes you think he was thrown?”
“I've got the gun. I’ll ask the questions.”
“Mr. Wood, I know all about you. It’s a hollow threat. You aren’t going to shoot us in the back for not talking, and we're the ones who will be asking the questions. Why’d you say he was thrown?”
“Well, we've gotten off on the wrong foot, I can tell you that. I'm not going to discuss my client's business with the CIA.”
“Who are you going to go see?” Jack shot back.
Henry opened the door and got out. He leaned into the passenger window and said, “I’m going to go see my friend at the FBI, we're gonna chat about the weather, baseball, and spooks messing around on their turf.” Henry had landed another solid blow. The threat stung. “I’ll leave your keys with Mr. Peterson at the hardware store.”
CHAPTER 36
Amy sat at her desk going through the mail. The door opened, and Frank Pimpkin walked in. “Mr. Kerwin asked to see me.”
Amy announced him and offered coffee, which he declined, so she showed him into the CEO’s office.
“Frank, I wanted to get an update. Please have a seat.”
Frank sat down on the couch and Mr. Kerwin took the chair next to him and said, “As you know, your special project is important to this company. The Navy contract is crucial, but the side contract is perhaps more important.”
Frank listened but didn’t smile. “I know, sir.”
“How is the tolerance testing going?”
“We have met the Navy requirements but still see a failure rate of four percent, so we need to review every piece, which takes time.”
“That is an improvement over last week but still a long way from satisfactory. How about the daily quotas – how are we doing on quantity?”
“We are meeting our goals. With the rejects, though, we're falling behind. I have a new kid who seems like a natural. He isn’t working in the special unit yet, but his first two shifts were impressive.”
“How so?” Matthew was usually not interested in the minutia of personal matters, but he sensed Frank wanted to tell him, so he asked.
“He learns quickly and doesn’t waste a second of time. His second day he set a new record on the 125N machine, producing more per hour than anyone had before and with only two defects. The average for a shift is fifteen defects, so even if he had been average, he would have still had greater final units. Today, I'm going to put him on something more complicated and, if it goes well, add him to the team...with your permission, of course.”
“So, where would you put him?”
“There is one section that seems to be holding us back. If I put Lawrence there, we should see a bump in output. Again, assuming he can hack it today.”
“What about shipping?”
This was the question that made Frank ill. “The parts are all packed at night after hours. When is the first shipment due?”
“I'll let you know.” Matthew stood up and extended his hand. Frank shook it and left.
Matthew picked up a few files and put them in his briefcase. He grabbed his coat and hat and said, “Amy, I'll be out for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Matthew drove into Manhattan. His meeting was at a brownstone. He parked out front, looked around, mostly out of habit, and went to the door and knocked. The curtains were drawn but moved aside briefly. The door opened. After it closed, Pytor gave his friend a bear hug.
“My old comrade, how have you been?” His Russian accent was thick, but he corrected himself and asked, “How are you doing today?” This time his English was perfect.
“I'm well. Your English is very good, but you don’t sound like a New Yorker.”
“I'll work on it.” Pytor showed him into the den and poured them drinks. “We are eager to hear of your progress.”
“We have achieved the tolerances promised, and, thus far, the defects are at an acceptable level.”
“The first batch is the most important. We must get them to the shipyard as soon as possible. Nobody knows that
we will be swapping out our own parts for yours.”
“Why is that?”
“It is for security. If we can get the newest sub built without even the workers knowing about the change, then there is far less chance of the Americans getting wind of what we have done. The results of the depth tests can then be leaked with the expected results. The Americans will think they have superior capabilities.”
Matthew said, “By the time they get their subs built with the batches containing the defective parts, it will be too late. Their subs will fail at a shallower depth. Kupton will lose the contract and the American Navy will be back to square one.”
“It is a brilliant plan. Because we are many months ahead of them, we should be able to get enough parts from you to complete at least a dozen subs before Kupton goes under. That will give our scientists enough time to fully analyze the new process.”
Pytor took a drink and said, “I'll be putting the shipping team together. They will pack and mark the containers. You will need to get me the proper credentials to get them into your facility after second the shift ends. Have you made arrangements for the ship?”
“Yes, one of the investors is a shipping magnate. We will use his ships to move the parts as far as Sweden. From there, I understand they will travel through Latvia and then onto the shipyards.”
“Why not take them straight to Latvia?”
“We could, but his normal route ends in Sweden. It will be less suspicious that way.”
Pytor nodded, and the two men ended their talk of business. Matthew gave his condolences on Pytor’s death, which got a hearty laugh from his comrade. The next few hours were spent talking about Mother Russia, families, and sacrifice.
When they were finished talking, Matthew drove back to the plant. The shift was just ending. He went down to the special unit to see this new kid. He was leaving, and a couple of guys were patting him on the back. He must have had a good day. He looked like a true blue American. It made him happy to think this young kid would be helping to betray his country.
CHAPTER 37
Jack was dreading the next few minutes. Nobody liked to deliver bad news. Even if the detective was bluffing, he couldn’t keep it from Dewey. Jack told the new guy, John, he could go check on the analysts. He made it sound like he was doing John a favor, but, in truth, he didn’t want him to hear the discussion.
Dewey and Gilbert were poring over data. There were stacks of paper everywhere and they seemed almost frantic. They both looked happy. When Dewey saw Jack, he said, “You won’t believe the break we got.”
Jack thought it might be best to get the bad news out of the way. “Henry Wood spotted us.”
Gilbert laughed and said, “I thought you said you were invisible when tailing a subject?”
“I screwed up. You can give me a hard time later. There is one more thing.”
Dewey never knew Jack to take Gilbert’s ribbing without saying anything back. He set the report down and gave Jack his full attention. “What is it?”
“He knows we are CIA. He said he was going to talk to a friend at the Bureau.”
Gilbert said, “How in the hell did he find that out?”
“He got the drop on us and pulled a gun. I tried to calm him down and showed him my ID, but it went south.”
Dewey asked, “You think he was bluffing?”
“Yes, I do.”
Gilbert, “Of course you do. You got caught with your pants around your ankles. If he talks to the Feds, we’re done. Langley will shut us down or ,worse, hang us out to dry. This is a black op; they can say we did it on our own.”
Dewey moved between Gilbert and Jack, “Calm down, Gil. We need your analytical mind more than ever. First of all, it might really have been a bluff. If it isn’t, well, we may be able to talk our way out.”
Gilbert backed off. He knew Dewey was right.
Jack asked, “What do you mean ‘talk our way out’?“
“That is what I was about to tell you. We finally got a break. An important Russian agent was spotted by one of our analysts.”
Jack was shocked. “How? Who? When did they spot him?”
Gilbert, calmer now, said, “Don’t get worked up. You're just mad that it wasn’t you who saw him.”
Jack did calm down. He realized his reaction was out of line. “You're right. Go ahead.”
Dewey looked at Jack for just a split second. As he picked up the report it flashed across his mind that Jack’s behavior was outside the norm. Jack was never outside the norm. He would think about it more when he was alone, Dewey continued, “Oleg Kiselev is alive. It was a complete fluke. Phil had just completed a report I asked him to put together detailing all of Oleg’s known subordinates. He stayed up all night to finish it. After we went over the report, he went out for coffee. As he walked out of the diner, he held open the door for a guy in a hat. The guy takes off his hat and says thanks, in a bad American accent. It is Oleg.”
Jack asked, “What did Phil do?”
“He didn’t do anything, which was smart. Phil isn’t a field agent but was smart enough not to try to follow him. He came back and told me about the contact. Here's his report.”
Jack read it while Gilbert started talking. “Yeah, he had a bag of groceries, which means he must have a safe house in the neighborhood. Heck, we might be able to see him from the office. If he is in town, then it means something big is about to go down. The Russians went to a lot of trouble to fake his death.”
Jack nodded, still flipping through the report.
Dewey said, “If Oleg is alive, then you can bet Pytor’s death was a ruse as well. If those two are working together, this must be bigger than we could have ever imagined. It's our ace in the hole.”
Jack asked, “What do you want me to do about Henry Wood?”
Dewey said, “I think you need to back off Henry. We may need another card to play. I want you to focus on Celine.”
Jack didn’t like being taken off Henry, but he knew Dewey was right. “Is anyone monitoring the office bugs?”
Gilbert said, “Good point. If he does know someone at the FBI, we may be able to find out for sure, and I bet he tells Celine about being tailed by the CIA.” Gilbert left the office to go assign an analyst to live monitor the bugs and to listen to the tapes from the morning.
With Gilbert gone, Jack felt he had to say something else about his encounter. “I'm sorry, boss. I really dropped the ball today. Maybe you should put someone else on Celine? I could go after Oleg.”
Dewey knew Jack. It wasn’t like him to beg off an assignment involving a beautiful woman. Maybe it was guilt, he thought, or just Jack’s ego wanting the bigger fish, but something felt wrong. “We don’t have time to get someone else close to her. It has to be you. Don’t worry about Henry. It happens. We won’t let him ruin everything we have been working on. I promise you that. This is the break we needed. The Russians have no idea we know he is alive, let alone, here in the city. We need to play this one close to the vest. As long as he thinks he is hidden, we have an edge.”
Jack left and went home for the day. He was worried. This was not what he had expected, and he was assigned to romance a secretary while Oleg was drinking coffee right under his nose. Jack knew that a big move was being made by Moscow. He would just have to wait to find out how it was all to play out. Jack didn’t like to wait.
CHAPTER 38
Henry got back to the office and found Celine at her desk. Buttons was sitting on the desk watching Celine do some paperwork. “I see you and Buttons are hard at work.”
Celine said, “Yes, we are friends now, but Buttons doesn’t quite understand the chain of command.” She rubbed the cat’s ears and Buttons said, “Meow”, then purred.
“I think Buttons has a firm grasp on the chain of command and will eventually bring you around to his way of thinking.”
Buttons agreed, “Meooow.”
They both laughed. “How was the widow?”
“She is still in mourning.
We talked for about thirty minutes. I didn’t learn much.”
“Did she know about Cynthia Pollard?”
“I don’t think so. She talked a lot about how much she missed her husband. I could tell she loved Daniel. I asked if there had been anything out of the ordinary but she said 'no'. We talked about their relationship but there wasn’t a whiff of betrayal. If she knew, she didn’t let on.”
“Did you say you expected foul play?”
“Yes, and she seemed to have been thinking the same thing. She kept saying that suicide didn’t make any sense. She must have said it half a dozen times.”
Buttons grew tired of the talk and went off to find a spot for napping.
Henry got himself a cup of coffee and continued, “The widow Kupton wasn’t the exciting part of the morning, though.”
“Oh?”
Henry leaned back, putting his feet up. “I spotted a tail.” He paused because he knew Celine would eat it up.
“Really? How did you spot them?”
Damn, Henry thought, he had planned on glossing over the getting lost part of the story. “I was out on Long Island and…” Henry took a sip of coffee, bracing himself for a look. “…I got lost. When I turned around, I saw them. When I struggled to get back on track, I noticed they were still behind me.”
Celine didn’t mock him at all. She just kept listening, wide-eyed. “That was some good luck.”
“Yes, I suppose it was. I should have noticed them earlier, though.”
“What did you do after that? Did you lose them?”
Henry gave her all the details. Celine most enjoyed the part about threatening to tell the FBI.
* * *
An analyst listening to the bugs in Henry’s office leapt to his feet and motioned for someone to get Gilbert. He sat back down and continued to write out notes. When Gilbert arrived, he handed the paper to him, without taking off the headphones. Gilbert read it and let out a sigh. He went back to Dewey’s office.
