The Big Book of Espionage

by The Big Book of Espionage (retail) (epub)

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. I held it out. “This,” I said.

  He took the paper and held it up, trying to get enough light on it to see it. I chopped my hand across his neck as hard as I could. He grunted deep in his throat and started to fall. I caught him and dragged him into the deep shadows of the alley. I went back to retrieve the paper I’d handed him. Then I went back and quickly stripped off his uniform. I rolled it up into a ball with the gun inside, and tucked the whole thing under my arm. It had taken no more than three or four minutes, and he was still unconscious as I stepped back to the street and walked away.

  The uniform looked like any bunch of clothes under my arm, and I didn’t draw a second glance from any of the few people I met on the way back to the apartment. Even so, I felt better when Natasha opened the door in answer to my knock. I stepped inside and she closed the door.

  “I am glad you are back,” she said. “What do you have there?”

  I unrolled the uniform and smiled at the surprise on all three faces.

  “What is it for?”

  “I also have to do something to repatriate that paper Cooper was carrying before they find out about it. That comes before anything else tomorrow. I won’t need help. This will either work simply and quickly—or not at all. Let’s return to the second operation. If Ilya can get the information tomorrow, I will need two things. One will be easy, the other not.”

  “What do you want, Milo?” Natasha asked quietly.

  “First, some old clothes. They should be working clothes, and the older the better.”

  “We have some of Ilya’s that should fit you,” Natasha said.

  “Any way they could be traced to him if anything happens?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “They came from the government store here, and there must be millions like them in Russia.”

  “All right. Now the hard one. I want to know where I can steal a car. But not any car. This should be an old one that looks as if it’s about to fall apart. Maybe the kind of car that a man who was a good mechanic could recover from a junk heap and fix up.”

  “That’s Yuri’s department,” Ilya said.

  The short, dark man was lost in thought for a minute. Then he smiled. It was only the second time I’d seen him smile. “I know just the car,” he said. “It would even be well if it were traced later, for the man who owns it is an informer on his neighbors. I can steal it any evening.”

  “Tomorrow evening? Or tomorrow afternoon?”

  He scowled. “Tomorrow evening for certain. Perhaps in the afternoon. Sometimes he is home by three o’clock.”

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll see what happens. Everything will depend on the information Ilya gets tomorrow. If it looks possible, then tomorrow afternoon you will show me where the car is, and I will steal it and make the try.”

  “If you try to rescue the pilot tomorrow,” Natasha said, “what do we do?”

  “You will have already done it,” I told her. “The plans, the car, advice, that’s about it.”

  They all three started to protest.

  “Wait,” I said. “I was sent to do this job. The way I’m planning it, everything will have a better chance if I do it alone. More people would only make them suspicious and we might even get in each other’s way. And there’s another thing. The three of you have important work to do here. My orders are to use your assistance as much as I have to, but not to risk you unduly. But there is one other thing you can be putting your minds to.”

  “What?”

  “If I succeed in rescuing Cooper, I’ll need someplace to hide him until we can make a break for it.”

  “We could keep him here,” Natasha said.

  I shook my head. “Too dangerous, unless we have no choice. It should be somewhere else.”

  “There might be another place,” she said. “There is a girl I know slightly, who has a one-room apartment on the next floor. She is away on vacation now. If we could get into her apartment in some way…”

  “I can get in,” I said. “So that’s settled.”

  “But how will you get him out of Russia?” Ilya asked.

  I grinned. “More theft,” I said. “My idea is to try to get to some field where we can steal a plane. A fast one. Then Cooper can fly us out. It’s risky, but probably safer than anything else. Once I’ve gotten him, you can be sure of one thing—the bloodhounds will be over every inch of Russia.”

  “I like the way you think,” Yuri exclaimed. “Perhaps I could go with you.”

  “No, Yuri,” I said. “Your job is here, and, believe me, it’s a much tougher one.”

  “Milo is right, Yuri,” Natasha said.

  “But in the meantime,” I said, “you can be thinking about where we might have the best chance of getting a plane, and the best way to reach it.”

  Yuri nodded, trying not to show his disappointment.

  We talked generally for another hour or so, then Yuri left, and the three of us went to sleep.

  I was up early the next morning, and back at the trial as soon as the building was open. While I was waiting for everyone to file into the trial room, I took another look at the case the MVD man was guarding. The map was still there. I didn’t want to attract attention by too much interest in the case, so I strolled around the building. There were several offices around at the other end of it, mostly filled with either MVD men or what seemed to be Russian VIPs. I got a couple of questioning glances and soon retreated to the trial room.

  The hearing was much the same as the day before. It was clear that they were more bent on making the United States look guilty than in bringing out anything on Cooper.

  Just before the midday recess, the defense attorney got up to answer one of the prosecutor’s blasts. He painted a glowing picture of Cooper as a simple Midwestern boy, with an honest, peace-loving family, who never knew what he was getting into. He said that these were the kind of Americans the Russians understood and liked. And he wound up by saying, “To show the world the true meaning of socialist humanitarianism, this boy’s father and two brothers are on their way to Russia right now as guests of the government. They will arrive in Moscow tonight, and be here by his side tomorrow when he once more faces this court.”

  There was a burst of applause from the audience, and then court was adjourned until afternoon. I hurried back to the apartment. Ilya was already there. To my surprise, so was Natasha.

  “I decided to take the afternoon off, too,” she explained. “It is not difficult in my job.”

  I nodded and turned to Ilya. “How did you make out?”

  “Fine,” he said. He brought a piece of paper from his pocket. “But it cost fifteen thousand rubles.”

  “It’s worth it,” I said. “Let’s see.”

  The three of us bent over the sheet of paper. Ilya had made a crude drawing of the route between the prison and the Hall of Columns, with all the streets marked. The time of departure, both morning and afternoon, was written down, and the other information I had wanted. He was transported in an official MVD car with three guards, one of whom drove. The driver was an MVD man, and the other two were KGB. That made it a little tougher, but it still looked possible.

  “I think I can do it,” I said. “We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

  The three of us had lunch, and then I went into the other room and changed into the MVD uniform.

  By the time I reached the Hall of Columns, the trial was already underway—which was what I wanted. The corridor was empty except for the glass-covered case and the solitary guard. I entered the building from the other side and walked down the corridor to the front. This time no one paid any attention to me as I passed the offices, I was only another uniform.

  The guard at the case looked up in curiosity as I ap
proached. “What is this?” he asked. “Am I being relieved early?”

  “For a few minutes,” I said. “I will stay here until you return—if you do.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps they will give you another assignment. All I know is that I was called into the office and ordered to come here. You are to report there at once to Colonel Sergeiev.”

  “Who the devil is Colonel Sergeiev?” he demanded.

  “From the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti,” I said.

  He paled at the mention of the KGB. “What do they want to talk to me about?”

  “How should I know?” I retorted. “Do you see any decorations on my uniform that they should take me into their confidence? I only follow orders as you do. And yours are to go at once to the office and see Colonel Sergeiev. I will guard the spy’s things. Although I do not think he will be trying to get them back.”

  “That is true,” he said, but his mind was on other things. “Well, I suppose I should be going…”

  “I think so,” I agreed solemnly.

  He started off with a worried look on his face, then looked back. “What is your name, Comrade?”

  “Chernicov,” I said. “Good luck, Comrade.”

  He nodded absent-mindedly and walked on. I watched impatiently for him to disappear around the bend in the corridor. Then I would have two minutes, three at the very most, before he discovered there was no Colonel Sergeiev, no Chernicov, and no orders for him to report at the office. And within one minute after that there would be several men pounding down the corridor looking for me.

  He moved out of sight. There was no time for niceties such as picking the lock. I lifted my gun and smashed the butt down on the glass. It broke with a crash. I reached through the jagged spears of glass and grabbed the map. I moved swiftly toward the front entrance, stuffing it into my pocket. Even as I went through the door, I thought I heard a shout somewhere back in the corridor.

  I went down the steps to the street level and looked around. Immediately in front of the hall a number of Zim limousines were parked with no one in them. Farther down to the left a Pobeda, something like a small Chevrolet, was parked in front of a tobacco store. A man was sitting behind the wheel. I turned and strode quickly down to it.

  “Move this car out of here,” I ordered, “and make it fast.”

  “But I’m waiting for someone in there,” he said, gesturing toward the Hall of Columns.

  “I don’t care who you’re waiting for,” I snapped. “Khrushchev is arriving here any minute, and the street is to be cleared. Drive out of here as fast as you can—or I may take you off the street myself.”

  He looked startled, but he obeyed. He started the car and pulled away, gunning the motor as much as he could. I turned and stepped into the tobacco shop. And none too soon. As I stood at the counter, I saw seven or eight men come running out of the Hall of Columns. They stopped to look around and caught sight of the Pobeda speeding away. They all piled into a Zim and gave chase as soon as they could get it started.

  I bought a package of cigarettes, walked down to the first block, and turned left. Another block away, I caught a bus. I rode it for about fifteen blocks and got off. I caught another bus going the opposite way and stayed on for five blocks. Then I took a taxi.

  Yuri was already with Ilya and Natasha when I reached the apartment. They all three looked relieved as I came in.

  “You got it?” Natasha asked excitedly as she closed the door.

  “Yes,” I said. I took the map from my pocket and went immediately to the stove. I took a dish from the cupboard above and then held a match to the map.

  “Give me another minute,” I told them. I went into the other room and changed back to my own clothes. I returned to them carrying the uniform.

  “This must be destroyed as quickly as possible,” I said.

  “There is an incinerator in the building,” Natasha said. “Just down the hall. I’ll put it in there.”

  “Good girl,” I said, handing the uniform to her. She took it and hurried out the door. She was back within a couple of minutes.

  “The gun may still be a risk,” I said, “but I’m going to need it, so I’ll take that one. I think I got away all right, but they’re going to start a big hunt, and I think I may have made one mistake.” I told them about the taxi I’d taken, and they confirmed my guess. MVD men usually did not pay when they wanted to ride in cabs.

  “But it may be all right,” Yuri said. “The driver may be so pleased at getting paid that he will keep his mouth shut. And you did leave the taxi three blocks away.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But once he hears about the search for a phony MVD man, he may be frightened enough to report it. But the time it will take for that to happen may be long enough. What about the car, Yuri?”

  “It is there,” he said. “To take it will be easy.”

  “And the clothes?” I asked Natasha.

  “In the other room. I should have told you so you wouldn’t have to change twice.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I have a little time. Ilya, describe the streets on that route again.”

  “Yuri knows them even better than I do,” he said.

  We brought out the diagram that Ilya had made, and Yuri looked at it. He then gave me a minute, almost photographic description of the route of the car as it would take Cooper back to the prison. I finally settled on what looked like the best place, the last six blocks before the prison. From Yuri’s description, it sounded narrow enough for what I had in mind. Yuri had said that two cars could barely pass. I put my finger on what looked to be about halfway along that stretch.

  “What is along here, Yuri?” I asked.

  “Workers’ apartments,” he said. “Perhaps one or two small stores. That is all.”

  “Are the people who live there apt to interfere?”

  “If they see uniformed men fighting with another man, they’ll lock the doors and pull the blinds down. They know that in such a case it is better to be completely ignorant.”

  “In this case, I approve,” I said. “Well, we’ll leave in about an hour and a half.” I went into the other room and got the gun. I wanted to check it over thoroughly and be sure that everything was in perfect working order before I started.

  “You will shoot the three guards?” Yuri asked eagerly.

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I hope I don’t have to shoot, but I may not be able to avoid it. I’ll have to see how it works out.”

  I think Yuri looked disappointed, but we turned to other details. Natasha had checked and verified that the girl upstairs was still on her vacation. I would bring Cooper back to this apartment, then go up and pick the lock and move him there. Yuri had looked into airfields not too far from Moscow and thought he’d found a small one that had possibilities. He was going to try to find out more. Ilya suggested that the best way of getting to the airfield would be to buy a small car on the black market and drive as near there as possible. He thought that mere boldness might get us through, especially if we used a popular small car that many families used for their vacations. All the suggestions sounded possible, and we still had some time to decide on the best.

  I changed into the old clothes, and transferred my papers and other possessions. Then Yuri and I left. We took a bus, transferred to another one, and finally ended up in a section of Moscow I had never seen before. We walked three blocks after getting off the second bus. Yuri finally stopped on a street corner and pointed in the direction we were facing.

  “There it is,” he said proudly.

  There was only one car parked on the street, so there was no chance of making a mistake. Yuri had certainly followed my instructions to the letter. I had never seen an older or shabbier car. It evidently dated from the time when the Russians were copying our Fords, and it lo
oked as if they had also copied the idea of repairing it with baling wire.

  “Are you sure it will run?” I asked.

  “Oh, it runs very good,” Yuri said. “You want me to go show you?”

  “I’ll steal my own cars, Yuri,” I said. “Where is the owner?”

  “On the next block. Drinking vodka. He will be there for two hours or more. Nobody else will pay any attention. They hate him. So much that if the car doesn’t start at once, they may rush out and give you a push.”

  “Now, how do I get to Nevka Street?”

  His face lit up. “You see, I told you that you need me. The way is very complicated, but I will show you.”

  “All right,” I said, giving in. “But as soon as we’re near the place, you’ll have to get out.”

  He grinned, and we started down the street. We reached the car and climbed in. I hadn’t really believed Yuri, but certainly no one made an outcry or paid any attention to us. I reached under the instrument panel, disconnected the ignition wires, and wired them together. I stepped on the starter. I don’t think I expected anything to happen, but the motor started at once. It didn’t sound too bad. I put it in gear and we moved off.

  We reached a spot near my destination without mishap. I stopped the car and told Yuri to get out. He put up a little argument, but finally did.

  “I’ll see you back at the apartment,” I told him, and drove off. I had a few minutes to spare and drove slowly. I finally reached the spot about fifteen minutes before the car with Cooper was due to arrive there. Yuri had described the street perfectly. By turning and backing I finally got the car directly across the street. There was no room for another car to get by on either side. I killed the motor and got out.

  I went around to the front and lifted the hood. Then I reached down and ripped the wires from the carburetor. While I was at it, I got some grease, and smeared it around on my hands and a little on my face. I put the hood down and went back to sit behind the wheel. I waited until I knew the car was about due, then began stepping on the starter.

  I was aware when the car arrived, but I didn’t look up. The starter whirred with a dismal sound. The horn blew on the other car. I looked up, waved hopelessly at the car, and continued to press the starter.