He was lucky with a cab, sitting forward on the seat, impatient now to get to the embassy and find out from Fredericks how everything had gone with Kozlov. Perhaps he’d extend that night’s invitation to include the American. Kozlov would be gone and there was nothing to be gained by continuing the rivalry. As far as Fredericks was concerned, the episode had ended in a draw, one each.
At an intersection, the driver made a sudden turn and Charlie saw, relieved, that they were joining the major Sakuradadori Avenue and that it was comparatively clear. It stayed that way up to and then beyond the Imperial palace. It was fifteen minutes past two when the cab pulled up outside the British embassy.
The Americans were two cars behind and Elliott said positively: ‘It’s gone wrong!’
‘Nothing happened on that bus,’ insisted Levine.
‘It was the only place and we missed it,’ said Elliott.
‘I’m sure nothing happened,’ said Levine, who wasn’t and who knew that Elliott didn’t think so either.
‘What now?’ asked Elliott.
‘We wait.’
‘Shouldn’t we contact the others?’
Levine shook his head, determinedly. ‘I did that last time,’ he said, in admission. ‘We’re not moving.’
‘Holy shit!’ exploded Elliott. ‘The bastard screwed us!’
Inside the embassy, Charlie was conscious of an atmosphere as he waited in the foyer for Cartright to arrive and take him through the admission procedure. When the intelligence Resident reached him, Cartright said: ‘Sorry if I kept you, Charlie. Hell of a flap on at the moment.’
‘What?’ asked Charlie.
‘Had some military people through, on their way to some sort of exercise in Australia. Still not clear yet … only happened about half an hour ago …’
‘Tell me!’ demanded Charlie, shouting.
‘Seems to have blown up, on take-off.’
‘Fuck!’ said Charlie. Where was the perfect planning now? More important, where was Irena Kozlov?
By one o’clock there was still no contact from Kozlov with Room 323 at the Imperial Hotel and Fredericks hurried down to the hotel foyer to use the telephones there, leaving the one Dale was manning unblocked. From then on, the panic rising, he called Yamada, maintaining liaison at the embassy, every five minutes.
‘Still nothing,’ insisted Yamada, at two thirty. ‘Last time I heard from Levine was just before twelve, from the hotel. Said he had Charlie Muffin under wraps.’
‘No problems at all?’
‘Airport and back, obviously just checking arrangements.’
‘But he hadn’t met the woman!’
‘No,’ said Yamada, suppressing the sigh. It had been the same conversation, every time.
‘Kozlov hasn’t shown,’ said Fredericks.
‘You told me already.’
‘So where the hell is he?’ said Fredericks, exasperated.
‘Where the hell is everyone?’ said Yamada. ‘What’s happened?’
It was the question Charlie Muffin was asking himself, in the code room at the British embassy.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie Muffin recognized it was a damage assessment in every definition of the phrase. And he didn’t have a clue how to assess it. Which way – or where – to start, even. The first priority was salvage, to save what he had. And he still had – he hoped – Irena Kozlov. There was insufficient time to try to reach the woman before she caught the train to Osaka. He supposed he could wait and telephone Osaka airport: he knew the flight number and there’d be no risk paging her by her new name. She’d been frightened, Charlie remembered: unwilling at the last moment to let go. Psychologically wrong, then, to attempt any interception and half-thought out rearrangements which might panic her. Which left Hong Kong, where she expected to be met by a man named Anthony Sampson and a military aircraft. And wasn’t going to encounter either. Thank God for insurance, thought Charlie, sighing with relief as Harry Lu replied on the second ring.
‘Hoping to hear from you Charlie!’ greeted the man. His voice caught at the end and the sentence finished in a wheezing cough. ‘How’s business?’ he picked up.
‘Problems,’ admitted Charlie, at once.
‘Serious?’ asked Lu.
‘Danger to a whole contract,’ said Charlie. ‘Someone’s intercepted some samples. Damaged a whole shipment.’
‘What can I do?’ said Lu.
Praise be for true professionals, thought Charlie. He said: ‘Got a sales person coming in. Rose Adams. Expecting a buyer who won’t be able to make it.’
‘Like me to pick her up instead?’ anticipated the man.
‘And keep her from any rival buyers,’ said Charlie. ‘Japanese Airline’s flight 208.’
‘This sales person, she know the name of the buyer?’
‘Sampson,’ said Charlie. ‘Anthony Sampson.’
‘Met before?’
‘No.’
‘She likely to be disappointed?’
‘She was expecting an immediate onward transhipment,’ said Charlie. ‘Likely to be very unhappy.’
‘I understand,’ said Lu, who did. ‘Anyone else from the firm coming to sort it all out?’
‘Getting there myself as soon as possible,’ announced Charlie. He paused and said: ‘Transportation still reliable, in Hong Kong?’
‘Same service as before,’ assured the other man.
‘I remember,’ said Charlie. ‘Apologize to her for me, will you? Make it very clear that she hasn’t lost the business …’ He hesitated, then added: ‘Tell her everything here is fine.’ She’d need the assurance, confronted with the uncertainty of not being met by whom she expected.
‘Will do,’ undertook Lu.
‘There might be some other determined buyers,’ warned Charlie.
‘Business is tough all over.’
‘This is very tough,’ insisted Charlie. He said: ‘It’s good to be working with you again.’
‘Like it to happen more often,’ said Lu, making clear the expected return.
‘I’ll see it does,’ promised Charlie. Another undertaking not backed by authority, he realized. If Harry Lu stood in for him until he was able to get to Hong Kong, Charlie determined to oppose Harkness any way that was necessary to resolve the nonsense of fictitious expenses claims and get Harry Lu back on a London retainer.
Charlie was connected as quickly to General Sir Alistair Wilson in London and, assured of a secure line, did not have to go through the confusing ambiguity of Hong Kong. The Director listened without any interruption until Charlie had clearly finished and said: ‘The Americans did that!’
‘It couldn’t have been anyone else,’ said Charlie. ‘I led them out this morning, intentionally to confuse.’
‘Bastards!’ said Wilson. Continuing, his voice becoming strangely soft, the man said: ‘I don’t like losing soldiers, Charlie. Don’t like losing anyone, but soldiers least of all.’
‘I didn’t have any alternative to bringing Harry Lu in,’ said Charlie. People had been prepared to lose him enough times.
‘I accept that,’ said Wilson. ‘You be able to get there tonight?’
‘Yes,’ assured Charlie.
‘What about another squad, to Hong Kong?’
‘Let’s first make sure there’s a reason for their flying out,’ said Charlie.
‘You think you might have lost her?’
‘I don’t know enough to think anything at the moment,’ said Charlie.
‘No proof, about the plane then?’
‘There wouldn’t be, would there?’
‘Bastards,’ said Wilson again. There was a long pause and then he said: ‘Imagine being prepared to kill that many people, just to seal an escape route!’
‘Maybe I didn’t think dirty enough,’ conceded Charlie, recalling the other man’s remark at the London briefing.
‘I’ll still go along with it,’ said Wilson, more to himself than to Charlie. ‘I’ll wait until that first joint meeting
, and I’ll get Kozlov if it takes me a regiment to do it. Two regiments.’
‘Need I tell anyone here, about the squad?’
‘No,’ said the Director, at once. ‘There is to be a several nation exercise in Australia, so the cover story stands. Sampson wasn’t carrying anything to link him to you?’
‘No,’ said Charlie, in turn. He hoped the man hadn’t made any notes after their meeting. He thought it unlikely.
‘I’ll need Cartright now,’ said Charlie.
‘Whatever is necessary,’ agreed Wilson, at once. ‘And Charlie – really be careful, understand?’
‘I told you I always was,’ said Charlie.
‘Don’t forget how I feel about losing people, will you?’
‘No,’ promised Charlie. ‘I won’t forget.’
Cartright drove and as they left the embassy Charlie identified the waiting Nissan and said: ‘The Director called them bastards.’
‘Still difficult to believe,’ said Cartright. The Nissan started to follow and the man added: ‘They’ll know it’s the airport.’
‘I want them to,’ said Charlie. He told the other man how he wanted them stopped and Cartright said: ‘Christ, you’re going to start a war.’
‘We’ve already got one,’ said Charlie. ‘They started it.’
‘There’s nothing more I can do?’ The satisfaction, at involvement at last, was obvious in Cartright’s voice.
‘We’re not sure yet if Irena Kozlov is even in Hong Kong,’ said Charlie. ‘You got Harry Lu’s number?’
Cartright nodded and said: ‘There was an instruction not to use him, you know?’
‘It’s been changed,’ said Charlie. ‘Everything’s been changed.’
Cartright looked across the car and said: ‘It was Harkness’s order. I got another one, about you.’
‘I guessed,’ said Charlie.
‘There was nothing to report,’ assured the man.
‘Thanks for telling me,’ said Charlie.
‘I didn’t like the position it put me in.’
‘Harkness is a bloody old woman,’ said Charlie, with feeling.
They passed a road sign indicating the airport and Charlie said: ‘You’ll have to be quick.’
Cartright looked in his mirror and said: ‘They’re quite a long way back.’
‘Got the names?’
‘Levine and Elliott,’ recited Cartright.
There are security barriers and obstructions permanently in place at Haneda airport, but there were additional precautions after the earlier plane explosion, extra personnel at each checkpoint examining every car. As the search started on their vehicle, Charlie said: ‘This should hold them, which will help.’
From where they sat the two men could still see the smoke-blackened hull of the British plane. The blaze that followed the explosion had been extinguished, but the wreckage still smouldered and fire engines and rescue vehicles remained grouped around it.
‘Wilson was right,’ said Charlie, as they were waved on. ‘They are bastards, to do that.’
‘Good luck,’ said Cartright, automatically, as they parted at the airport entrance, Charlie for departures, Cartright heading for the telephone bank.
‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, sourly.
Cartright stayed by the telephone after making the call, watching the car stop and identifying the Americans as they left it. Levine and Elliott hurried in and were halfway across the concourse towards the departure gates when the security men, who also used the Nissan to isolate the two, swooped in a coordinated, encircling movement. The Japanese had their guns unslung and the demands, in English and by name, for the two men to halt were amplified through bullhorns. Levine and Elliott jerked to a stop, bewildered, and momentarily Cartright thought Levine was going to try to run. There was another amplified shout and hesitantly both men obeyed, raising their arms in surrender.
Irena Kozlov emerged hesitantly from the Arrivals section at Hong Kong, looking around her. At first she did not recognize the name Rose Adams written on the piece of card, and when she did frowned up at the Chinese holding it. She stopped completely, uncertain, then at last approached the man.
‘Anthony Sampson?’ she said, curiously.
‘Yes,’ lied Harry Lu, for expediency.
He hurried her away as quickly as possible. He thought she was alone but it was always difficult to tell, in a place as crowded as an airport.
Chapter Fifteen
The Japanese Interior Ministry followed the strictest protocol, approaching the American embassy through their Foreign Ministry, which meant the involvement of the full US diplomatic staff, including the ambassador. A career diplomat only five years away from retirement and a $200,000 a year consultancy as an expert in Asian affairs at a Georgetown research institute, the ambassador ordered immediate discussion with Washington. The initial hesitation from the CIA headquarters at Langley, simply to gain time and seek clarification from Fredericks in Tokyo, was misinterpreted as indicating guilt by the enquiring US State Department. Anticipating a major crisis, State played politics, directing a second and independent enquiry to the White House, where the Chief of Staff had the same reaction as State and alerted the President. That lead to a direct what-the-hell-is-going-on call from the President to the CIA Director, who made the same demand, in a signed cable, to Fredericks. As well as responding to that, Fredericks was subjected to detailed questioning from the still-doubtful ambassador and after that had to go out to Haneda personally to sign for the release of Levine and Elliott. It was midnight before he returned to the embassy and the waiting, remaining, CIA group.
‘What!’ erupted Harry Fish, before Fredericks completed the explanation.
‘The British escape plane, sabotaged at the airport,’ elaborated Fredericks. ‘There was an anonymous call from within the airport itself, claiming Levine and Elliott were responsible.’
‘How were they identified?’ demanded Yamada.
‘The car,’ said the Resident. ‘Described in detail, right down to the registration plate. Even witnesses who remembered it around the military section this morning.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ said Dale. ‘You satisfy everybody?’
‘I’ve got them released, but the ambassador isn’t convinced,’ said Fredericks. ‘Langley is demanding a fuller explanation in the diplomatic pouch, so they’re clearly taking out insurance … would you believe the President himself is riding shotgun, insisting we prove ourselves squeaky clean! Only people not demanding explanations and assurances at the moment are the office cleaners!’
‘Jesus!’ said Dale, again.
‘What did you tell Langley about Kozlov?’ queried Fish.
‘That he didn’t show.’
‘Just that?’ questioned Fish, doubtfully.
‘What do you want me to do!’ demanded Fredericks, venting the anger and frustrations of the evening. ‘Admit we’ve been completely suckered by a guy who’s screwed the Agency once already; someone we were warned about!’
‘OK! OK!’ said the other American, retreating.
‘All because of Charlie Muffin!’ said Dale, disbelievingly.
‘So now it’s recovery time,’ said Fredericks, positively. ‘We’ve lost him and we’ve lost Kozlov and we’ve lost the woman. Right now, all of us together, we’re not worth a bucket of spit.’
‘He’ll be halfway back to England by now!’ protested Yamada.
‘He isn’t,’ said Fredericks. ‘Hank got a positive make on him, from a Cathay Pacific ticket clerk at the airport. He caught a flight to Hong Kong, forty-five minutes after their arrest …’ Fredericks looked at the desk clock. ‘Their own plane left two hours ago …’ He smiled an expression bereft of humour. ‘They want him,’ he said. ‘They want Charlie Muffin so bad you can feel it.’
‘Just Levine and Elliott?’ queried Fish.
‘All of us,’ insisted Fredericks. ‘We’re going down tonight on that C-130 and we’re to shake Hong Kong until all the fruit falls out of the trees.’
‘What if we get him?’ said Dale.
‘We’ve got to get him,’ insisted Fredericks. ‘And we will. We’ve checked the civil flights: there aren’t any more tonight out to Europe, so he’s stuck there, until tomorrow. I’ve activated every informant and person-in-place we’ve ever used and said they can name their own price: earn their pension in a day. Levine and Elliott aren’t moving from the airport until we get there. And our military can monitor any Air Force flight. Hong Kong is sealed.’
‘OK,’ corrected Dale. ‘When we get him. What then?’
‘The Kozlovs first,’ ordered Fredericks. ‘I don’t know how he did it, but I’m sure Charlie Muffin got the goddamned man and the woman to go over to him, together. We’ve got to get them back, through him.’
‘Then?’ said Yamada.
‘And then we blow him away,’ said Fredericks, simply. That guy’s made his last smart-assed move. Ever.’
Olga Balan used her own key to enter the Shinbashi apartment, stopped immediately inside the door by the look on Kozlov’s face.
‘Darling!’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘She’s still alive,’ said Kozlov.
‘But the plane …’ she said. ‘I heard the reports …’
‘She wasn’t on it,’ said Kozlov. He was white with anger.
‘How …?’ she stumbled.
Kozlov indicated the telephone. ‘She kept to the arrangement …’ In his frustration, Kozlov punched one fist into the palm of the other. ‘It was the Englishman,’ he said. ‘It was all planned so perfectly and Charlie Muffin did something I hadn’t expected …’
‘What are we going to do!’
‘Find them,’ said Kozlov, simply. ‘And this time make sure she dies.’ He paused and said: The Englishman, too: he’s definitely got to be killed.’
Chapter Sixteen
The vodka had been for a celebration of their freedom, but they drank it now for a different reason, needing its support. Kozlov walked aimlessly about the apartment, glass in hand, movement necessary to ease his frustration.
See Charlie Run Page 16
