Dogan said nothing. He understood how Locke felt, better than he could admit to anyone. They were both trying to stop running. But to respond to Locke’s words would have been too difficult, so he turned back to the subject immediately at hand.
“When we get to Zurich, I’ll make the necessary arrangements to get you to Florence. The Dwarf will see you; he owes me lots of favors.”
“And what about you?”
“There’s only one place with all the answers, Chris, and that’s where I’m headed.”
“South America?”
“San Sebastian.”
Chapter 18
“Good evening to you, comrade.”
“It won’t be good after you hear what I have to say.”
Dogan made contact with Vaslov after settling in at the Staadhof Hotel in the center of Zurich.
“Your voice sounds tired,” Vaslov noted.
“And scared. I caught up with Locke.”
“I never expected any less….”
“His meeting with Felderberg was even more informative than we had hoped.” And Dogan proceeded to outline the information Locke had passed on, stressing those parts dealing with food, South America, and the experiments underway at the Sanii plant. “Your fears have been substantiated,” he said at the end. “The Committee is after both our countries and the key is food. The only remaining question is precisely how they plan to strike.”
“They couldn’t have picked a better target, though, could they, comrade? Food, the ultimate resource to control. We are dependent on your supplies and you are dependent on your exports. But I agree that far more must be involved here than merely the crop genetics Locke discovered at Sanii. The problem is finding out what.”
“Locke learned the Committee was based in Austria. Will that help us?”
“Austria is a rather large country, comrade, but I’ll start digging tomorrow. KGB computers should be able to obtain information pertaining to repeated trips into the country by certain individuals, perhaps some of whom are notable. This will eventually lead us to a list of potential Committee members.”
“Sounds like a lengthy process.”
“Too much so, I’m afraid,” Vaslov acknowledged grimly. “And time is short, very short. There is one thing your report to me excluded: the World Hunger Conference, which will begin in a week.”
“I didn’t think it was important, just a random coincidence.”
“Unfortunately it’s anything but. Let us say all our speculations about the Committee launching a massive strike against both our nations are true. What would be the worst turn of events for them?”
Dogan thought through the silence. “Some sort of pact between us, I suppose. But that’s inconceivable.”
“Militarily perhaps, but not economically. From the intelligence I’ve recently been able to gather, that’s where the purpose of the hunger conference lies: to announce a trade agreement between our two nations, the likes of which have never been seen before. Your President has determined quite accurately that the way to avoid war is through the stomach. Trade is being opened up for everything except your most advanced computer equipment. The Soviet Union is being granted favored-nation status in exchange for several political concessions, including a gradual pullout from Afghanistan.”
“Food and politics — a potent mix.”
“The best is yet to come. At the conference, delegations from our two nations will deliver a joint memorandum on plans to deal with feeding the world’s starving people. Working together, our leaders believe we can accomplish anything, and in this case they might be correct. New supply lines will be made available, fertile land developed and cultivated where no crop has grown before.”
“Which would totally negate the Committee’s plans for South America.”
“But as we know, comrade, far more is brewing here. The Committee did not choose their moment to strike at random. The hunger conference is the cue for them.”
“And a unified front presented by the U.S. and Soviet Union would prove catastrophic to their ends.”
“We cannot be sure of that until we are aware of all their means.”
“But disruption of the conference might be part of their plan.”
“They have used terrorism before. The daring message of this conference cannot be allowed to gain worldwide publicity. It does not suit their goals.”
“The Committee’s goals, yes, but what about the goals of our mysterious third party? Did you learn anything from the old hag’s contacts?”
Vaslov sighed. “Not enough, unfortunately, and what I did learn is even more perplexing. The channels used to retain the old woman originated in South America.”
“What about names, places?”
“Nothing specific. But the channels were ones used primarily by terrorist groups.”
“You’re saying a terrorist group based in South America is behind the repeated attempts on Locke’s life?”
“I’m saying nothing. But the pattern is there. Everything fits.” Frustration laced the Russian’s voice. “Still, it makes no sense. My people in Moscow are experts in terrorism, originators of several of the groups behind it, and they assure me that no known group is behind this. The checks have been made. Nothing.”
“Checks that would be superfluous if the group wasn’t part of the international terror network.”
“True. But where does that take us?”
“It takes me to the place where all this started: San Sebastian.”
“The town has been obliterated.”
“Someone must have seen or heard something. The answers are down there. I leave for Colombia later tonight.”
“You’re fishing, comrade.”
“I’m desperate.”
“We’re all desperate but you are more so.” Vaslov hesitated. “You are overdue by days with your report. Your superiors who so graciously reinstated you are no doubt aware that you have totally disregarded your orders. And soon they will learn that you are aiding the very man you were supposed to take out. What do you suppose they will do about that, Grendel?”
Dogan didn’t venture an answer.
The emergency meeting of the Committee’s executive board began at ten o’clock at Kreuzenstein Castle.
“You have landed us in a terrible mess, Mr. Van Dam,” Audra St. Clair snapped at the American representative.
Present in the dimly lit room were the same five people who had been at the table on Saturday. In addition, the sixth chair, which had been vacant at the last meeting, was today occupied by the British representative.
Van Dam’s lips trembled. “I had to consider my own security.”
“And now you have violated all of ours,” the chairwoman said. “Mr. Mandala, please give us an appraisal of the damage.”
Mandala leaned forward, eyes consciously avoiding the American’s. “Locke arrived at Sanii as we expected. The plan was to have him captured and then allowed to escape so he might lead us to the Dwarf. But a man later identified as Ross Dogan, known in the field as Grendel, rescued him.”
“He was the one sent out on the sanction, Mr. Van Dam,” St. Clair said.
“How should I know? I merely gave the order. How it was handled, who was sent out, I don’t know.”
“I was not phrasing it as a question. Grendel was the man sent out, and we are all aware of his rather unique reputation. There is only one reason I can see to explain why Dogan would have disobeyed his assassination order, and that is he somehow learned that Locke was part of something greater. This is bad for us, Mr. Van Dam, very bad, and you are to blame. Locke is now allied with a top intelligence man and carrying with him all the knowledge we allowed him to obtain thinking it could only end up back with us. That scenario has been altered considerably. We can no longer control Locke’s movements or even chart them. Grendel has replaced us as his guide.” St. Clair turned to the British representative. “How much would Felderberg have passed on?”