Here you are completely beyond any law. June thirtieth”
Voronsky shook his head. Liebowitz shifted the tape forward. 11 …
advised of any unusual activity in or around the target facility”
“The target, Niki, is it going to be attacked on June thirtieth? Is that it” Potok asked. He nodded for Liebowitz again. Now more than before this has become an extremely important project to him. Especially after our German failure. “Who is this man spoken of, Niki? And what German failure? What happened in Gennany” Voronsky was still shaking his head.
Potok got up from his chair, withdrew his pistol, cocked the hammer, and, before Voronsky could move, jammed the barrel into the side of the Russian’s head. Liebowitz jumped up and tried to stop him. It was part of the routine.
“Nyetthe Russian cried. “Talk to us, Niki. his all we ask”
“Lev” Liebowitz said urgently. “If you don’t want to watch, then get the hell out of here, but I’m going to blow this bastard’s brains all over this cell unless he talks to me”
“Lev” Liebowitz said again, pulling Potok aside. “Outside. Now” There was something in Liebowitz’s tone, in the expression on his face, that penetrated. Potok stepped back, and nodded. Something was wrong. It wasn’t part of the script. Outside the cell, the door closed, Liebowitz was shaking. “The German failure they talked about. I know what it is”
“Yes”
“It was on the news, for God’s sake. But it didn’t mean anything to me until just now. I swear ““That””
“The terrorists at Ramstein Air Force Base. They stole a Pershing missile. Set it up downtown” Potok suddenly did see it all, and he could feel the blood draining from his face. “En Gedi”
“Yes” Liebowitz said. “They know! The bastards know, and they’re going to try again There was a tremendous crash and the sounds of something breaking from within the cell. Potok clawed the door open in time to see that Voronsky had smashed the tape recorder on the floor and had a long, jagged shard of plastic casing in his right hand. “No” Potok shouted, leaping forward, but he was too late. Voronsky in a last desperate act drew the edge of the plastic shard across his neck, once, twice, a third time, blood spurting everywhere as he sliced through major arteries, and his breath suddenly giving a big slobbering gurgle as he actually managed to cut through his windpipe.
McGarvey had arrived at Tel Aviv’s Lod airport shortly before six in the evening. At seven sharp he paid off his cabbie and strode into the Uri Dan Hotel, his single leather overnight bag slung over his shoulder. On the flight over from Paris he had asked himself a dozen times why he had agreed to Trotter’s assignment. And each time he came up with the same answer: Baranov. It was an unfinished business for him.
The Russian would not give up so easily. And since Kurshin had disappeared, it was a safe bet that he would be involved in whatever else happened. “Baranov’s handmaiden perhaps” an extremely strungout Trotter had said. “But Kurshin in his own fight is a very accomplished man. A very dangerous man”
“So I understand” McGarvey said dryly.
They had met this time at a small anonymous sidewalk cafe on the left bank. It was noon and the place was crowded. No one paid any attention to them. “They’ll try again. I don’t know where or how, but I do know the target”
“Not Tripoli” Trotter glanced around at the other patrons in the cafe and at traffic along the busy Boulevard St. Germain. “En Gedi” he said softly. “In the Middle East somewhere” McGarvey asked. He’d never heard of the place. “Israel. South shore of the Dead Sea”
“What’s there” Again Trotter hesitated. “Ostensibly a research reactor”
“Ostensibly” Trotter leaned forward. “Kirk, this is top-secret information. If you open your mouth at the wrong time or place they’ll have your ass” McGarvey said nothing. “We think it’s a weapons stockpile”
“Nuclear” Trotter nodded. “Then it’s true after all” Again Trotter nodded. McGarvey looked away, across the boulevard as a truck rumbled past. “It’s something Baranov would go after”
“We think so” Trotter said. “We’d like you to stop him. McGarvey had managed a tight smile and looked back at his old friend. “And what else, John”
“We’re not sure about the stockpile theory. We want you to confirm it”
“How”
“You can start with Dr. Lorraine Abbott”
The Ufi Dan, fight on the beach, was one of Tel Aviv’s largest and best hotels. Crossing the big lobby McGarvey automatically scanned the mostly casually dressed people coming and going, immediately picking out a small, dark complected man in shirtsleeves obviously watching a tall, goodlooking blonde woman seated alone in the cocktail lounge. He had only briefly glanced at the woman, but as he came up to the desk he looked back again. “Sir” the desk clerk asked politely. “McGarvey.
Reservations have been made” The clerk punched his name into the reservations computer, looking up a moment later. “Kirk McGarvey”
“Right. “Yes, sir, we have your reservation. And a package has arrived for you from your embassy. If I may see your passport, sir” McGarvey handed it over. His gun and a few other things had been sent ahead in the diplomatic pouch. “Do you have a Dr. Abbott registered here”
“Yes, sir” McGarvey motioned across the lobby to the open cocktail lounge. “I haven’t seen her in years. Is that her over there? The blonde” The desk clerk gave him an odd look, but then nodded. “Yes, sir, that is Dr. Abbott. If you would just sign here, please” McGarvey had his bag sent up to his room, and with his package in hand angled across the lobby toward the cocktail lounge, passing the man in shirtsleeves, who looked idly up at him. McGarvey stopped. “You know, pal, it’s considered impolite to stare” The man just looked at him, and McGarvey turned and continued across to the lounge and around the railing to Lorraine Abbott’s table. She looked up at him, a questioning expression on her face. “You don’t look like a physicist” he said. Her eyes widened slightly, and her nostrils flared. “Neither do you”
McGarvey laughed. “That’s because I’m not. May I join you”
“I think not” she said, starting to gather her purse and rise. “I bring you greetings from the general” She stopped. “The general” she asked.
“Roland Murphy” It took her just a beat to catch her breath. “Then someone is listening” she said, sitting back. “Yes, they are. May I sit down”
“Of course” she said absently. “I don’t think I caught your name”
“McGarvey. My friends call me Kirk” He reached across the table and they shook hands. “Mine call me Dr. Abbott” she said. “What can I do for you, and the general, Mr. McGarvey”
“First of all, are you aware that you’re being watched” She nodded over her shoulder. “I think his name is Larry. Mossad. They’ve been back there ever since “En Gedi” he finished the sentence for her. “Yes”
she said, looking at him with renewed interest, her right eyebrow raising. “But if you know the significance of that, then you must have come here to tell me something. McGarvey decided that she was a lot like his ex-wife Kathleen; outwardly haughty and self-assured, beautifully coiffed, made up and dressed, which he thought might be nothing more than a cover-up for a slight inferiority complex. Women were not supposed to be physicists. At least not beautiful ones. “Do-you read the newspapers, Doctor? Watch television news” The questions startled her.
She nodded. “Then you are aware of what happened recently in West Germany. The business concerning a terrorist attack on a Pershing missile”
“I think I may have seen something or other” she said vaguely, still not catching his drift. “The missile had been reprogrammed to strike En Gedi” She sucked in her breath, a little color coming to her lightly tanned high cheeks. “Why”