Carly began the work by cutting all the lines of speech into individual phrases. If a word or phrase needed repeating, she copied it and created a new file. It wasn't long before she had all the puzzle pieces needed to create the picture.
Four hours later she called Lambert into her office. He came in, sat, and rubbed the top of his head.
"Listen to this," she said. She manipulated the mouse and clicked something on her computer.
TARIGHIAN: "Zdrok is blind to everything but his own little world. He's angry that the first shipment of arms was confiscated in Iraq. The Iraqi police arrested the men who had it. Ahmed and his men tried to mount an operation to retrieve it, but that failed. We had to bite the bullet and pay for a completely new shipment. So far, Zdrok says he hasn't been paid."
MAN: "So he probably thinks you're trying to put him out of business."
TARIGHIAN: "Yes, that's probably what he thinks."
MAN: "You did give the order for the transfer, didn't you?"
TARIGHIAN: "Not likely, you fool."
MAN: "The Shadows' influence on them will change things."
TARIGHIAN: "The Shop behave as if they're in the West. They are a godless bunch. All they care about is money. I've hit them where it hurts and I'll continue to do so."
MAN: "Let me get this straight. The diaper factory was attacked--"
TARIGHIAN: "The rift was already there. We just made it wider."
MAN: "An Arab--"
TARIGHIAN: "I sent him--" (garbled) "--and left Tirma material all over the place."
The recording stopped. Carly looked at Lambert and raised her eyebrows. "Well?"
Lambert smiled. "I think it'll work. Send the file to Sam."
30
I receive Carly's file of the doctored conversation between Tarighian and one of his henchmen and it's great. Carly also sends me a second file with the English translation. The folks at Third Echelon really know their stuff. It must have been extremely difficult reconstructing a conversation without speaking the language, but then Carly St. John is brilliant. I have to admit I find her attractive. She's a tiny little thing and smart as a whip. I've never made any moves toward her, though. For all my skittish tendencies toward women, you'd think that seeing someone in the same agency would be all right. At least she'd understand my line of work, and I wouldn't be putting her at risk simply by knowing me.
I'll have to think about that one.
For now, though, I need to send Andrei Zdrok my little present. I'm surprised to find a bagel shop in Baku right across the street from his bank and decide that's as good a place as any from which to keep a surveillance going. I position myself at a corner table, have some breakfast, and read the newspaper, poised where I can look through the window at the street. The proprietors don't seem to mind that I'm loitering as long as I keep filling the coffee cup. Finally, at a little after ten o'clock, I see him get out of a Mercedes in front of the bank. He's dressed as sharply as always. When the Mercedes drives off, though, Zdrok doesn't enter the building. Instead he turns, looks in my direction, and crosses the street toward the bagel shop. Shit. It's quite possible Zdrok knows what I look like. Tarighian's cameras had surely captured my mug when I first visited his office. The guy could have sent my picture to Zdrok.
I stand and walk toward the washroom. Zdrok enters the shop just as I go through the door. I enter the stall and wait a few minutes until I'm fairly certain that he's made his purchase and left. I move to the door and open it slightly.
Damn, he's heading this way! There's nothing I can do about it so I turn to the sink and start washing my hands. The door swings open and Zdrok walks in. I see that he has a sticky pastry in one hand and he's wolfing it down. He stands beside me, obviously waiting for me to finish with the sink so he can wash the goo off his hands.
I don't look him in the eyes, but I nod, smile, and move away from the sink. I grab a couple of paper towels as he rubs his hands in the running water. I feel him looking at me in the mirror--in fact, he's staringat me. I have to get out of here, fast. I finish drying my hands and walk toward the washroom door.
"Do I know you?" he asks in Russian.
I stop. My Russian isn't perfect, but I can get by. "Excuse me?" I say.
"Were you in my bank the other day?" he asks.
What does he mean? "I beg your pardon?"
"Didn't I see you in the bank? The one across the street. You were there the other day, at the information table."
Whew. So that's what this is about. "Um, yes, I was."
Zdrok smiled. "I'm Andrei Zdrok, the bank manager. If there's anything I can help you with, please let me know."
I nod and say, "Thank you," and then leave as if I'm embarrassed. I walk straight through the bagel shop and out the front door. I turn left and stride purposefully away from the bank and hope that Zdrok doesn't follow me. It's unlikely, but I don't want to take any chances.
I stop at a newsstand and pretend to browse the magazines, keeping an eye on the bagel shop. After a moment I see Zdrok exit and cross the street to the bank. He doesn't look my way. He's probably forgotten all about the encounter. I'm counting on it, anyway.
Once he's inside the building I move back down the street and enter an old-fashioned phone booth. These relics are pretty much a thing of the past in America, but you'll still find them in Europe.
I cradle the phone between my head and shoulder and activate the OPSAT. I'm able to send an e-mail anywhere in the world with the thing as long as I have an unhindered signal to the satellite. It works best when I'm outdoors, but it'll do all right in some buildings. For this, though, I don't take any chances. I want Zdrok to get thise-mail.
His address is stored in the OPSAT so it's a simple procedure to send Carly's file. For a message, I type in Russian, "I thought you'd find the attached conversation interesting." I sign it "A Friend" and send it.
I leave the phone booth and walk the two blocks back to where I parked the Pazhan. I get inside, put on my headset, and listen to the bug in Zdrok's office. At first there's nothing but static. After a few minutes, though, I hear someone walk into the room and the subsequent creak of the chair as he sits in it.
He picks up the phone and makes a call. "Ivan, find out where General Prokofiev is. I want to talk to him," he says. It's Zdrok, all right. He hangs up the phone and I hear him typing something on his computer keyboard. Good. Maybe he's checking his e-mail. There're a few minutes of silence and then I hear Carly's file, broadcast loud and clear on the computer's speakers.
TARIGHIAN: "Zdrok is blind to everything but his own little world. He's angry that the first shipment of arms was confiscated in Iraq. The Iraqi police arrested the men who had it. Ahmed and his men tried to mount an operation to retrieve it, but that failed. We had to bite the bullet and pay for a completely new shipment. So far, Zdrok says he hasn't been paid."
MAN: "So he probably thinks you're trying to put him out of business."
TARIGHIAN: "Yes, that's probably what he thinks."
MAN: "You did give the order for the transfer, didn't you?"
TARIGHIAN: "Not likely, you fool."
MAN: "The Shadows' influence on them will change things."
TARIGHIAN: "The Shop behave as if they're in the West. They are a godless bunch. All they care about is money. I've hit them where it hurts and I'll continue to do so."