Doronkin knew why he had been sent to Istanbul and what he was expected to accomplish, but in the short time he had known Solkov, he had also begun to suspect that there was more to his assignment than the elimination of Salih Baddour. Everything Solkov said seemed to fall into a gray area. What he had learned since coming to Istanbul, he had learned by carefully studying a wide variety of international newspapers in the Istanbul library and listening to the late-night radio broadcasts from such places as Moscow, Baghdad, Tbilisi, and other hotbeds of political unrest.
From both this and what he observed, he was able to deduce that there was a plot of some sort brewing and that Solkov could somehow be involved.
There was, he now believed, more to it than just the elimination of Baddour. But that was conjecture; he knew very little.
What Solkov said next caught him by surprise.
“No doubt you have wondered where all of this is taking us.” Now when he spoke there was an edge to his voice.
“For over a year now I have been acting under instructions from our comrades to find, prepare, and create a diversion.” Doronkin realized that Solkov had somehow managed to put special emphasis on the word diversion.
“Originally, the manner in which this diversion was accomplished was of small consequence to the Party. But now it has resurfaced. The ultimate goal, we felt, could best be achieved if the world’s attention was somehow diverted from what was taking place in Moscow and focused on Iraq.”
“I do not follow,” Doronkin admitted.
“The dream of 1917 has been rekindled,” Solkov said flatly.
“While the world watches and wrings its hands over what is happening in Iraq following the death of Baddour, the Party will again take power in Russia.”
“A second revolution?”
“Indeed. The elements are in place. Now, t How ever, with the request of your American friend, it may be that our plan will work even better if slightly amended. Originally we believed that when Baddour was assassinated, his generals would quite naturally assume it was the work of President Abbasin’s agents. This would, of course, lead to conflict. The northern Iraqi forces, loyal to Baddour, would retaliate. Because they are outnumbered, they would be forced to resort to the use of the one weapon that would give them parity with the vast numbers in Abbasin’s armies to the south.”
“You speak of the chemical weapons the northern Iraqis have been testing on the Kurds?”
Solkov nodded as he thought.
“Without realizing it, your American contact has unwittingly presented us with an opportunity to reshape our plan, perhaps for the better. We will proceed, of course, with our plan to eliminate Baddour, but with what I have in mind, we could announce to the world that it was an American who committed the act and that he was in reality an agent of the government in Baghdad.”
Doronkin remained silent for the simple reason that he was uncertain how Party officials in Moscow would react to Solkov’s sudden introduction of a new element in the plan.
“When your mission in Ammash is accomplished, it would become my responsibility to see that the American press has all of the details. I would reveal how the Americans supplied a trained assassin at the request of the current government in Baghdad and that the reason the Americans were willing to do so is because of their concern over Baddour’s increasing use of the Nasrat pharmaceutical complex to produce chemical weapons.”
When Solkov finished, it was Doronkin who took a deep breath.
“When?” he finally asked.
“As soon as your American contact says he is ready.”
Doronkin pushed himself away from the table and stood up.
“I will contact you as soon as the American indicates he is ready to proceed.”
Solkov nodded.
“I will wait for your call.” Again Doronkin had noted that throughout their conversation Solkov’s expression had not changed.
Robert Miller pressed the rewind button as he prepared to play back the tape of Concho Banks’s phone conversation for a third time. This time Clancy Packer was listening over his shoulder.
“… am arranging with a local with whom I have recently established contact to get a better look at the Nasrat pharmaceutical and military complex in Ammash. Expect to be out of contact for five to seven days…”
Packer straightened up and looked at his assistant.
“What kind of information do we have on this so-called local?”
Miller had anticipated the question. He rifled through a stack of file folders until he found one with the name Taj Ozal scrawled on the tab. He opened the file and handed it across his desk to the agency chief.
“We don’t have a lot. Pack. Just this.”
Packer read Ozal’s brief dossier. male, DOB 01/07/59, single, no recorded occupation, no political affiliation… graduated from Bilkent University with a degree in economics… professes to be Sunni Muslim
Packer glanced at the faded black-and-white photograph of Ozal in the file and laid it back on Miller’s desk.
“How long has Banks known this guy?”
“Two weeks.”
Packer shook his head.
“Sounds risky. Not a helluva lot to go on. No military record, last passport application seven years ago; what the hell does the guy do for a living?”
“Banks isn’t going into this thing cold. Pack.
He’s done his homework. He has it from what he claims is a solid source that Ozal has been doing this for a number of years. According to Banks, Ozal is well connected, knows his way around, and even more important, seems to have access to some relatively sensitive information.”
“Two questions. How do we know we can trust this Ozal? Second, did Banks say what his plan was?”
“The answer to your first question, Pack, is we don’t. To the second, Banks says they will take a three-day swing down through Ammash and the area where the gas attacks on the Kurds have been reported. He’s proposing to represent himself as a Romanian arms dealer from Bucharest. If Ozal is who he claims he is, it’s a natural tie-in. I’m having
Banks’ credentials and passport worked up now.
If any of Ozal’s friends are the cautious type and try to check on Banks, we’ve got a mock office set up on Soseaua Kiseleff complete with phone.
We’re running it through one of the local phone services. I’ve also wired an international letter of credit via Wells Fargo to one of the banks affiliated with Banchi’o Bucuresti.
“As far as I’m concerned, he has everything he needs. All we’re doing now is waiting for you to give this whole idea your stamp of approval.”
When Clancy Packer took out his pipe and tobacco pouch, Miller knew something was bothering him.
“Even if this Ozal is who he claims to be, do you think Banks can pull this off?” he finally asked.
“It’s a little out of his line,” Miller admitted, “but that doesn’t mean—”
“This may be our best and only opportunity to find out what the hell is going on with Nasrat,” Packer interrupted.
“We better make damn certain we don’t screw it up. My first reaction is I’d feel a helluva lot better if we could send a heavyweight in on this one. Banks is a good man, but not necessarily the man for a mission like this.”
“What about Bogner?” Miller asked.
“He’s out of the country for a few days.”
“Any idea where we can find him?”
Packer hesitated before he nodded. He was avoiding the question.