rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第34章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃He's　been　talking　to　the　drug　panies；〃　Mein　replied。　〃They're　ing　onboard。〃
　Given　the　circumstances；　it　was　vital　that　the　major　pharmaceutical　panies　realign　their　production　facilities　in　order　to　produce　as　much　smallpox　vaccine　as　possible　in　as　short　a　time　as　possible。　Even　if　the　stolen　smallpox　was　genetically　altered；　the　current　vaccine　might　prove　at　least　partially　effective。　But　to　manufacture　the　necessary　amount　would　mean　stopping　the　flow　of　other　products。　The　losses　incurred　would　be　staggering；　as　would　those　related　to　manufacturing　the　vaccine。　That　the　president　had　already　agreed　to　underwrite　the　panies'　losses　was　only　half　the　battle。　The　panies　would　want　to　know　why　the　vaccine　was　needed　so　urgently；　and　where　such　a　large　outbreak　had　occurred。　Since　it　was　impossible　to　hold　back　such　information…　it　would　inevitably　find　its　way　to　the　media…　the　location　of　the　alleged　epidemic　had　to　be　remote；　yet　fairly　populated。
　〃We　decided　to　use　the　Indonesian　archipelago；〃　Klein　said。　〃The　internal　chaos　in　that　region　has　pretty　much　closed　off　all　ining　and　outgoing　traffic。　There　are　no　tourists　left；　and　Jakarta　has　banned　foreign　media　from　the　country。　Our　play　is　that　there　have　been　sporadic　outbreaks　of　smallpox；　leading　to　the　possibility　that　the　virus　can　multiply　and　spread　if　left　unconfined。　Thus　the　need　for　such　a　large　amount　on　such　short　notice。〃
　Smith　considered。　〃I　like　it；〃　he　said　finally。　〃The　current　Indonesian　regime　is　a　pariah　in　the　eyes　of　most　governments。　But　there　will　be　panic　when　word　leaks。〃
　〃Can't　be　helped；〃　Mein　replied。　〃Whoever　has　the　smallpox　will　put　it　to　use　very　soon…　a　matter　of　weeks；　if　not　days。　As　soon　as　we　identify　and　take　down　the　conspirators…　and　recover　the　virus…　we　can　spin　the　story　to　indicate　that　the　initial　diagnoses　and　reports　were　wrong。　It　wasn't　smallpox　after　all。〃
　〃God　willing　that　will　be　the　case。〃
　Smith　turned　as　Major…General　Kirov；　dressed　in　mufti；　entered　the　room。　He　was　startled　by　the　Russian's　appearance。
　The　fit；　middle…aged　Kirov　had　morphed　into　a　slightly　seedy…looking　individual　in　a　well…worn；　off…the…rack　suit。　His　tie　and　shirt…front　were　dotted　with　food　and　coffee　stains；　his　thin…soled　shoes　were　as　badly　scuffed　as　his　cheap　briefcase。　His　hair…　now　a　wig…　was　long　and　unruly；　a　touch　of　makeup…　expertly　and　judiciously　applied…　added　an　alcoholic's　redness　to　his　eyes　and　deepened　the　dark　crescents　under　them。　Kirov　had　re…created　himself　in　the　image　of　a　man　who　was　unfortable　for　the　eye　to　dwell　on。　He　reflected　failure；　dissolution；　and　hopelessness…　the　attributes　of　a　failing　salesman　that　the　smart　set；　living　and　working　in　the　chic　area　around　Dupont　Circle；　wouldn't　care　to　acknowledge。
　〃My　pliments　on　your　makeover；　General；〃　Smith　said。　〃Even　I　had　to　look　twice。〃
　〃Let's　hope　the　same　is　true　for　Beria；〃　Kirov　replied　somberly。
　Smith　was　glad　to　have　the　burly　Russian　by　his　side。　After　the　debacle　at　Bioaparat　and　Moscow；　Kirov　had　convinced　the　Russian　president　to　send　him　to　the　United　States　to　help　with　the　hunt　for　Ivan　Beria。　Klein　had　thought　that　Kirov；　who　had　spent　a　year　in　Washington　and　knew　the　ethnic　districts　well；　would　be　invaluable。　He　had　argued　as　much　to　the　president；　who　had　concurred　with　Potrenko　and　allowed　Kirov　to　e　over。
　But　in　Kirov's　hard；　bright　eyes　Smith　saw　the　real　reason　why　the　general　was　here。　Kirov　had　been　betrayed　by　a　woman　he'd　loved　and　trusted；　who　had　been　corrupted　by　unknown　forces　linked　to　a　killer　he'd　let　slip　away。　Kirov　badly　needed　to　make　amends；　to　regain　his　honor　as　a　soldier。
　〃How　do　you　want　to　proceed；　Jon？〃　Kirov　asked。
　〃I　need　to　stop　at　home；〃　Smith　replied。　〃After　you　get　settled　in；　we　can　go　to　Dupont　Circle。〃
　Since　no　one　at　the　Russian　embassy　was　aware　of　Kirov's　presence　in　the　city；　Smith　had　suggested　that　the　general　stay　with　him　and　use　the　Bethesda　house　as　the　base　for　their　hunt　for　Beria。
　〃Are　you　sure　you　don't　want　long…range　cover？〃　Klein　asked。
　As　much　as　Klein　trusted　Kirov's　abilities　and　instincts；　he　was　still　reluctant　to　put　both　men　out　in　the　field　without　cover。　True；　Smith　had　gone　to　Houston　to　find　a　trail　that　Treloar　might　have　left　behind。　But　his　real　intention　had　been　to　touch　the　tendrils　of　the　web　that　still　linked　Treloar　to　the　conspirators；　his　controllers。　By　letting　them　know　that　he　was　ready　to　investigate　the　very　heart　of　where　Treloar　had　lived　and　worked；　Smith　hoped　to　provoke　a　response　that　would　force　the　controllers　to　e　after　him。。。。　Which　meant　bringing　Beria　out　of　his　hole。
　〃We　can't　take　the　chance　that　Beria　would　spot　the　cover；　sir；〃　Smith　replied。
　〃Mr。　Klein；〃　Kirov　said；　〃I　understand…　and　share…　your　concern。　But　I　promise　you　I　will　not　let　anything　happen　to　Jon。　I　have　a　distinct　advantage　over　any　cover　you　might　provide。　I　know　Beria。　If　he's　wearing　a　disguise；　I'll　see　through　it。　There　are　characteristics　and　mannerisms　that　he　won't　be　able　to　hide。〃　He　turned　to　Smith。
　〃You　have　my　word。　If　Beria　is　out　there；　if　he　es　for　you；　he　is　ours。〃
　
　
　Ninety　minutes　later；　Smith　and　Kirov　arrived　at　Smith's　ranchstyle　home　in　Bethesda。　As　Smith　walked　him　through　the　house；　Kirov　noted　the　paintings；　wall　hangings；　and　objets　from　cultures　around　the　world。　The　American　was　indeed　a　well…traveled　man。
　While　Smith　showered　and　changed；　Kirov　made　himself　fortable　in　the　guest　bedroom。　They　met　in　the　kitchen　where；　over　coffee；　they　pored　over　a　large…scale　map　of　Washington；　focusing　on　the　multiethnic　neighborhood　around　Dupont　Circle。　Since　Kirov　was　already　familiar　with　the　area；　a　plan　came　together　quickly。
　〃I　know　we　didn't　talk　about　this　with　Klein；〃　Smith　said　as　they　got　ready　to　leave。　〃But。。。〃　He　held　out　a　SIG…Sauer　pistol。
　Kirov　looked　at　it　then　shook　his　head。　He　went　into　the　bedroom　and　came　back　with　what　looked　like　an　ordinary　black　umbrella。　He　held　it　at　a　forty…five　degree　angle；　moved　his　thumb　along　the　handle；　and　suddenly；　a　one…inch　blade　popped　out　of　the　tip。
　〃Something　I　brought　along　from　Moscow；〃　Kirov　said　conversationally。　〃The　blade　has　a　fast…acting　animal　tranquilizer…　Acepromazine。　It　can　bring　down　a　hundred…kilo　boar　in　seconds。　Besides；　if　for　some　reason　your　police　were　to　stop　me；　I　could　explain　away　an　umbrella。　A　gun　would　be　much　harder。〃
　Smith　nodded。　He　might　be　the　bait；　but　Kirov　would　be　the　one　doing　the　close…in　work。　He　was　glad　that　the　Russian　wasn't　going　to　face　Beria　unarmed。
　Smith　slipped　the　SIG…Sauer　into　his　shoulder　holster。　〃All　right；　then。　I'll　give　you　forty　minutes　lead　time；　then　follow　you　in。〃
　
　Moving　along　the　streets　like　a　wraith；　Kirov　studied　the　human　traffic　swirling　around　him。　Like　other　areas　close　to　Washington's　core；　Dupont　Circle　had　undergone　a　revival。　But　tucked　in　between　trendy　cafés　and　designer　boutiques　were　the　Macedonian　bakeries；　Turkish　carpet　shops；　Serbian　emporiums　filled　with　beaten　brass　and　copper　planters；　Greek　restaurants；　and　Yugoslav　coffeehouses。　Kirov　knew　how　strong　the　pull　of　the　familiar　would　be　to　a　man　operating　in　an　unfamiliar　environment；　even　if　that　man　was　a　vicious　killer。　This　ethnic　mix　was　just　the　kind　of　environment　that　Ivan　Beria　would　gravitate　to。　There　he　could　find　familiar　food；　listen　to　music　he　had　grown　up　with；　overhear　accents　he　recognized。　Kirov；　who　could　eavesdrop　in　many　Slavic　languages；　was　also　perfectly　at　home　there。
　Turning　into　an　open…air　quadrangle　bordered　by　shops　and　stalls；　Kirov　took　a　seat　in　the　shade　of　an　umbrella…topped　table。　A　Croat　woman　who　spoke　only　halting　English　took　his　order　for　coffee。　The　Russian　held　back　a　smile　as　he　overheard　her　running　invective　at　the　proprietor。
　Sipping　the　thick；　sweet　coffee；　Kirov　surveyed　the　foot　traffic；　noting　the　women's　colorful　blouses　and　skirts　and　the　men's　baggy　pants　and　leather　jackets。　If　Beria　came　here；　he　would　wear　the　rough；　practical　clothing　of　a　Yugoslav　working　man…　maybe　a　cap；　too；　to　cast　a　shadow　over　his　features。　But　Kirov　had　no　doubt　that　he　would　recognize　him。　In　his　experience；　the　one　aspect　of　his　appearance　an　assassin　could　never　disguise　was　the　eyes。
　Kirov　understood　there　was　a　good　chance　that　given　the　opportunity　Beria　would　recognize　him　as　well。　But　Beria　had　no　reason　to　think　that　Kirov　was　in　the　United　States。　His　primary　concern　would　be　to　avoid　the　police；　as　sparse　as　the　patrols　were　in　the　area。　He　wouldn't　expect　a　face　from　the　past；　so　far　from　home。　By　the　same　token；　Kirov　did　not　expect　to　see　Beria　strolling　up　to　the　nearest　pastry　shop　to　buy　a　snack。　He　might　know　where　the　assassin　was　likely　to　venture　out；　but　he　had　no　idea　where　he　was　at　that　moment。
　With　hooded　eyes；　Kirov　surveyed　the　changing　scene　around　him。　He　also　scanned　the　entrances　and　exits　to　the　quadrangle；　where　people　appeared　from　and　disappeared　to。　He　noted　the　signs　posted　in　the　shop　windows　indicating　the　business　hours；　and　made　a　mental　note　to　check　the　alleys　and　the　delivery　bays。
　If　Beria　had　to　e　out　to　perform　his　wet　work；　this　was　an　area　he　would　feel　fortable　in。　This　might　cause　him　to　feel　that　he　had　the　upper　hand；　and　a　confident　man　could　sometimes　be　a　blind　one。
　
　Three…quarters　of　a　mile　from　where　Kirov　was　contemplating　the　possible　takedown　zone；　Ivan　Beria　opened　the　door　to　his　two…bedroom　apartment　on　the　top　floor　of　a　building　that　specialized　in　short…term　leases　to　the　city's　white…collar　transients。
　Facing　him　was　the　driver　of　the　Lincoln；　a　big；　silent　man　with　a　nose　that　had　been　broken　at　least　several　times　and　a　deformed　left　ear　that　resembled　a　tiny　cauliflower。　Beria　had　met　such　men　before。　fortable　with　violence　and　unerringly　discreet；　they　were　the　perfect　messengers　for　the　principals　who　hired　him。
　Motioning　the　driver　inside；　Beria　locked　the　door　and　accepted　the　proffered　envelope。　He　tore　it　open　and　quickly　read　the　contents；　written　in　Serb。　Stepping　away；　he　smiled　to　himself。　The　principals　always　underestimated　the　number　of　people　who　had　to　be　eliminated。　In　this　case；　Beria　had　already　been　paid　for　the　Russian　guard　and　the　American　scientist。　Now　he　was　being　asked　to　remove　one　more。
　Turning　to　the　driver；　he　said；　〃Picture。〃
　Silently；　the　driver　took　back　the　letter　and　handed　over　a　picture　of　ion　Smith；　taken　by　a　security　camera。　The　subject　was　facing　the　lens；　his　face　free　of　shadows。　The　resolution　was　very　good。
　Beria　smiled　thoughtfully。　〃When？〃
　The　driver　held　out　his　hand　for　the　picture。　〃As　soon　as　possible。　You　must　be　ready　to　go　the　minute　you're　called。〃
　The　driver　raised　his　eyebrows；　silently　asking　if　there　was　anything　else。　Beria　shook　his　head。
　After　the　driver　left；　Beria　went　into　the　bedroom　and　removed　a　digitally　encrypted　satellite　phone　from　his　pack。　A　moment　later；　he　was　speaking　to　a　Herr　Weizsel　at　the　Offenbach　Bank　in　Zurich。　The　account　in　question　had　just　been　fattened　by　two　hundred　thousand　American　dollars。
　Beria　thanked　the　banker　and　hung　up。　The　Americans　are　in　a　hurry。
　
　
　Naked；　Dr。　Karl　Bauer　stepped　out　of　the　final　decontamination　room。　On　the　bench　of　the　changing