"Da."
The door swung aside and she stood, hands on hips, with her shoulders and pelvis moving in all directions at once. She was far short of beautiful, but pretty, with a strikingly pale face surrounded by blue-black hair. The dress was cheap and tight everywhere, and she wore a tiny hat on her head set at a saucy angle.
"You want to see Ludmilla, comrade?" she said in a too-loud voice.
Carter nodded her in with a smile, and she closed and locked the door behind her.
"Can we talk?" he asked, rolling his eyes around the room.
She nodded. "They only put listening devices in the Intourist hotels down here."
"How much did he give you?" Carter asked.
"Ten rubles."
"The thief, I gave him thirty-five. Drink?"
"Yes. I've set up at meeting with Kokolev for tonight, ten o'clock."
"We'll stay in the room until then."
"Very well, then I can get rid of this for a while." She pulled off the black wig and shook out a radiant mane of honey-blond hair.
"Sorry I was late. I waited at the station until the train I was supposed to be on came in."
"That's all right." she said with a chuckle. "I was rather enjoying myself. Do you know I could have made over two hundred rubles this afternoon?"
Carter checked out of the room with the excuse that he had decided to leave for the south early.
Ludmilla had left an hour before him.
Carrying his suitcase, he walked to Ushakov Square and joined the line waiting for the bus. He could see the golden halo of her hair near the front of the line. She had discarded the cheap garb of the prostitute and now wore a severe dark suit, low-heeled shoes, and carried a huge shoulder bag.
Now she looked like what she really was: an Intourist guide.
It was a perfect cover for her real role as a courier. She would obtain documents or information from Moscow-based vacationing agents, and pass it along to her English or American tourist charges.
Her role as liaison/guide for Carter was dangerous and far out of her line, but the operation had to be mounted in a hurry.
The bus arrived and the long line filtered aboard. Carter sat near the rear, Ludmilla directly behind the driver. When she got off at the Mount Sapun stop, he followed her.
The night had grown chilly, but the narrow streets of the little village were full of walking, chatting people. Mount Sapun was cleaner and prettier than Sevastopol', with a lot of packed street cafes and basement bistros.
A light fog swirled around them as they drew closer to the sea. Ludmilla kept changing directions in a zigzag pattern, and she even doubled back on herself twice. Carter knew she was checking for a tail, and went along.
When she halted at last, he continued walking until he caught her.
"It's not far now, just down the sea walk a little and then up to that row of houses — there."
Carter nodded and they set off.
Five minutes later, they had climbed to the seaward side of a long row of one-story, concrete-block houses.
"Go out on the point, there, and wait. It is best that his wife and children don't see you."
Carter nodded. They couldn't describe the face of a visitor they had never seen.
He moved out onto the overhanging cliff and hunkered down among the rocks. He scarcely had a cigarette going when Ludmilla appeared. She crouched opposite Carter, and then an enormous, black-haired man blocked out the moon before perching on a rock.
"I am Kokolev."
Carter nodded. He didn't give the man his own name. Kokolev knew what Carter was; there was no need of a who.
He cased the other man in the moonlight, and liked what he saw. Deep lines cut into the sides of his mouth. His flesh, roughened from exposure to sun, wind, and rain, was stretched taut over Tatar-like cheekbones, drawn tight over sunken cheeks. Under protruding black eyebrows, the pale blue eyes were intense as they studied Carter with equal care.
"Your target arrived in Sochi the day before yesterday."
"With the woman?"
"Yes. They are staying in a dacha at the compound near the Matsesta River, right on the sea. It is where all the very high government officials take their vacations."
"So it is very well guarded."
Kokolev nodded. "High, electrified fence three quarters of the way around, and patrols on the beach. Two of my cousins work there, so I know which house they are in."
"Do you have a plan?" Carter asked.
"Yes." Kokolev took a map from beneath his shirt and spread it on the ground. A penlight appeared in his hand and danced over the paper.
"You have arranged for the fishing trawler to pick you up, correct?"
"Yes," Carter said and nodded. "All I need to know is exactly where we leave the coast. I can arrange coordinates then with Guildenkov. You have the undersea sleds I requested?"
"We do. They are old but in good repair." He returned to the map. "The workers' complex is here. That is where you and Ludmilla will check in tomorrow afternoon. It abuts the government officials' complex — here."
"From the sketch, it's practically a fortress," Carter commented.
"It is." Kokolev chuckled. "They wouldn't want outsiders, real workers, to wander into it and see how lavishly they live. The compound itself is enclosed, with two entrances, each guarded by a pair of sentries. Two more sentries act as a roving patrol, one on the beach side and one in the compound itself."
"Is this a complete floor plan of the dacha?"
"The woman who got it for me works in the Ministry of Engineering. It is the exact floor plan from which every building in the compound was built."
"Tricky," Carter growled. "We'll have to get rid of at least one set of guards at one of the entrances. Then, even after I'm inside, the two roving guards will have to be occupied for at least an hour."
"True," Kokolev replied. "And this is how I think it can be done."
For the next twenty minutes, the big man went over the plan, and Carter tried to tear it apart.
He couldn't. It looked solid.
"That means we'll need two men besides yourself, plus arms and uniforms."
"I have already procured all of those things," Ludmilla offered.
"And your two cousins? They will cooperate?"
"They have been softening up the guards for a week," Kokolev replied. "Actually, it was very easy. They are very jealous of the ones they stand watch over."
"It looks good. Well go."
Kokolev nodded and smiled. "I have a delivery tomorrow near Soucha. I will take the two men arid the equipment down in the truck. You and Ludmilla will take the ten o'clock bus. We will meet you at ten tomorrow night, here. Ludmilla…"
"I know the place."
Kokolev folded the sketch and handed it to Carter. "You will want to study this. Bum it before you leave in the morning."
Without another word, he stood and moved like a cat back toward the row of houses.
"This way." Ludmilla murmured to Carter, rising. "We will stay tonight in the house of Kokolev's brother. He and his wife have conveniently gone away for a few days. It is on the edge of the village."
"The neighbors…"
We are two lovers from the north on vacation, and we do not dare check into a hotel together.
Carter nodded and grabbed his suitcase. He followed her down the cliffside, then paused on the ocean walk for a second.
"What are you thinking?"
"Just that this is a very dangerous game for all of you to play, with very little reward."
"Let us be the judge of that," Ludmilla replied quietly. "Besides, we are Tatars."
She moved away again, and the Killmaster fell in step behind her.
Tatars.
He knew exactly her meaning. Under the Soviets, in 1921, the Tatar Crimean Autonomous Republic was set up. They ruled themselves, and did it well. But during World War II, the Crimea was occupied by Germans for three years. This proved to have tragic consequences for the proud Tatars.