“To make room for his own protege.”
Anatol shook his head with disbelieving amusement. But it was half an answer to the question he had not asked earlier-only half because it might be a smoke screen; the Baron was clever enough.
“We should have to remove him by violent means,” the Baron said, “and such things have a way of being traced back to their origins.”
“No one has traced Vassily Devenko’s murder back to its origins.”
“Someone will. In time. No; if we had a part in Danilov’s death and it came to light before we cemented our positions of power then we should lose our chance forever. The risk is too great.”
“No greater than the risk of losing it all by supporting Alex.”
“Answer my second question then.”
“We have men capable of commanding the operation. The plan in Vassily Devenko’s notebook is quite detailed. It should not require great imagination to put it into operation-only persevering leadership. I am sure Tolkachev could handle it, for example; the regiment is accustomed to following his orders.”
“Tolkachev is a staff officer. He lacks the spark for command. I cannot see men following him into the jaws of death.”
“It was not a cavalry charge with naked sabers that Vassily had in mind. The operation would not require that sort of leadership.”
“Yes. But would the Red Army fall into place behind him after the coup?”
“Will the Red Army fall in behind Alex and Prince Felix?” Anatol riposted.
“They may when they realize it was Alex’s initiative that sparked its success.” The Baron sucked on the cigar; it hollowed his cheeks and gave his face a predatory cast. “I have the highest respect for your judgment, Anatol. I am only anticipating the arguments my colleagues will raise. It is a great risk to upset the operation now that it is in motion. You must be very certain of your stance.”
“I’ve weighed the alternatives.”
The Baron said, “You do not like Danilov personally, do you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Who can say. Chemistry perhaps.”
“Politically he is too liberal for you of course.”
“That goes without saying. I should think you would feel the same.”
“I do. But we are not putting him forward as a political candidate. He has a remarkable record as a soldier.”
“Perhaps. It is my impression he is too susceptible to his emotions.”
“Warmth is an essential quality in a leader.”
“I do not agree,” Anatol said.
“I am not a warm man myself but I recognize its value in others. Your daughter flew to America some weeks ago to meet him in New York.”
“She was acting as Leon’s envoy.”
“It was a bit more than that.”
“What is it you wish me to say?”
“I want you to admit you do not approve of your daughter’s being in love with him.”
“Irina is a grown woman. I do not interfere in her life.”
The suggestion of a smile. “You were much happier when she was dallying with Vassily Devenko. He was more your sort of son-in-law.”
“I would have preferred that naturally.”
“I must ask you to examine your motives, Anatol. Spend the night-consider it all. We shall discuss this again in the morning.”
7
A dark old Austin came chugging up from the gate. It was one of the regiment’s vehicles and Sergei Bulygin was driving; Alex couldn’t see the passenger behind the glare on the windscreen.
He didn’t want visitors inside the restricted area. He swung through the hangar door and limped quickly outside onto the tarmac.
And suddenly he was face to face with Irina.
He looked at her over a stretching interval until her mouth softened and parted and her long breath lifted her breasts. He felt his throat thicken; when he lifted his hands she came forward, hurrying with her fluid free stride: she gave him both her hands and her eyes danced above her wicked blinding smile.
“It’s all quite official,” she said. “I’m here as a courier.” But there was mischief in her eyes.
Sergei dropped them at the bungalow and drove away beaming conspiratorially. Irina had one large grip. He carried it inside and she said, “At least tell me you’re pleased to see me.”
He swept her into his arms and she turned her face up for his kiss.
Abruptly she curled away from him and delved into her voluminous handbag.
It was a bulky brown envelope sealed with wax and a Spanish diplomatic stamp. “Oleg said it was vital.”
“We had word he was sending a messenger. I hardly thought…”
“I should have come in livery and a little red cap. Hadn’t you better open it?”
“In a while,” he said. “Glass of whisky? It’s all we’ve got. But it’s good unblended local product.” He realized he was still staring in disbelief. “You’ve put a damned lump in my throat, Irina.”
“I’m glad I haven’t lost the power to enthrall. Scotch whisky will do.”
When he came back she was sitting in the parlor with one leg across the arm of the chair. It was a pose no one else could have brought off with dignity. She tossed back her whisky and displayed her subtle mocking smile. “You’re being heroic again. I confess it suits you. What happened to your leg? You’re favoring it.”
“A man used it for target practice.”
Her face changed. “Hadn’t you better tell me about it?”
“In Boston a few days ago. It was a rifle. The bullet hit the doorjamb beside me-it was wood splinters that nicked me. It isn’t serious.”
“Did they capture him?”
“No.”
“Of course it’s the same ones who murdered Vassily.”
“Possibly.”
“You sound dubious.”
“It was hardly a hundred yards. He’d have killed me if he’d meant to.”
“Then you’re convinced he wasn’t shooting to kill?”
“I’m not convinced of anything-but there wasn’t much wind and he had an absolutely clear shot. You can kill a man at five times that distance with a good rifle.”
“Perhaps his sights had been pushed out of alignment somehow.”
“It’s possible,” he conceded. “I think he’d have had time to correct his aim and fire again.”
“Wasn’t there any trace of him? Didn’t you see him?”
“No to both questions. If we knew who he was we’d know why he did it.”
“They may try it again-someone better with a rifle.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve taken certain precautions. Talking about it won’t clear it up-let’s have a look at your package from Oleg.”
It was a brief letter folded into a book-Clausewitz’s On War, a very old volume, the second Russian edition; published in St. Petersburg in 1903. He riffled the pages but there were no underlinings or marginal notations.
Oleg’s letter was written sparsely in a formal Russian free of post-Revolutionary innovations.
Barcelona 24 August 1941
My Dear Alexsander, I honor our agreement. V. is in possession of a copy of Clausewitz identical with the enclosed. The pagination of this edition is unique; it was not printed from the same plates as the first or third editions. Because of the need to involve no intermediaries it has been necessary to keep the code rudimentary. In order to encode a message, you must first find the word you require in the Clausewitz. Write first the number of the page, always in three digits (page 72 must be written as 072, page 3 must be written as 003). Then the number of the paragraph, in two digits (the first paragraph is 01). Then the number of the line within the paragraph, in two digits. Then the number of the word within the line, in two digits. Each word thus becomes a nine-digit cluster-for example the word “headquarters,” found near the middle of the fifth page of the Clausewitz, reduces to 005020703. If it is necessary to repeat a word in the same message, try to find the word again on another page rather than use the same numerical designation. Once you have coded the message in the sequence of nine-digit numbers, reverse the entire message. (The above-mentioned “headquarters” thus becomes 307020500. The word that preceded it now follows it: the entire message must be reversed as a unit.) Finally you must break the message into clusters of five, rather than nine, digits. The divisions become arbitrary and the space after each fifth digit is filled with the letter “X” for transmission. Transmission of course will be in standard Morse key. Wavelength is to be 5.62 megacycles on the shortwave wireless band. Hours of transmission must necessarily be limited to nighttime when reception is possible at long range. V. will identify himself by the codeword “Kollin” (found on page 361 of the Clausewitz). You will identify yourself with the codeword “Condottieri” (found on page 237). It is arranged that V. will make his first transmission at 0135 hours (Greenwich time) on 16th September. He will transmit only the codeword “Kollin,” repeating it three times. This will indicate to you that V. is ready for reception. You will then broadcast your coded questions and/or orders to V. At the end of your transmission you are to switch over to Receive and you should receive acknowledgement from V. in the form of the single codeword “Kollin” followed by the single word “Carnegie” (found on page 87). You are not to respond to this; the codeword “Carnegie” used by either of you indicates “end of message.” Twenty-five hours later (0235 hours 17th September) V. will broadcast his reply to you. At this time you must make your own arrangements between yourselves for the scheduling of subsequent communications. I anticipate your objection that since I am in possession of the code I shall be in a position to eavesdrop on your communications with V. Unfortunately there was no rapid means of communications which I could establish which would not have raised the same objection. I should warn you that V. agreed to this only with the utmost reluctance. His position, as I have assured you previously, is both fragile and dangerous. I beg of you do not exploit V.’s vulnerability more than you must. The specific plan must be kept secret at all costs. I think Prince Leon and I have been able to persuade most of the others that they must not inquire too closely into the details of your plan, but Anatol Markov-for reasons which he regards as cogent and sensible-pesters us night and day for the details of the proposed campaign. We have put him off with the truth-that we do not know the plan-but our appeals grow thin with repetition; you must be on your guard-Anatol will not be above trying to slip his spies into your confidence. He is an ambitious man. My wishes for success in your mighty and holy endeavor.