The vision of Sigourney’s body in the burned remains of the house came back to him. He knew that he would have that same picture in his mind for a very long time to come. It would haunt his dreams long after this business with Kobelev was finally resolved.
“She must have been wonderful, your lover,” Lydia said softly.
Carter looked up. “It shows?”
She nodded. “It is Kobelev’s specialty... finding one’s weaknesses and brutally exploiting them. He is very good at it.”
“What was your weakness?” Carter asked.
“My parents...” Lydia started, but then she hesitated. “That was just my excuse. I was my own weakness. I was tired of the university. I was sick to death of the other students. I wanted to be... loved. To be needed.”
“By someone important?” Carter prompted.
“By someone important. By someone exciting. By a man.”
“Kobelev was that man.”
“At first. But he’s a monster. There were times...” Again she hesitated. “There was a doctor on his staff at the dacha.”
Carter remembered the man. He had been kind.
“Kobelev decided he no longer liked or trusted the doctor, so he challenged him to a duel... with swords. The doctor pleaded with him — ‘I know nothing about fighting, I am a medical man,’ I remember him saying. But it was no use. It took the doctor a very long time to die. I had to watch it all.”
“So you jumped at the chance to come to the States. To be his eyes and ears in New York.”
“Anything to get away from him. Anything!”
Carter finished his drink and ordered another. When he sat back down, Lydia was watching him.
“What do you expect to do in Paris? You say you want information from me?”
“I was lured to Lashkin and you in New York. Now I am being lured to Paris. Kobelev wants me in Europe. He means to keep leading me along until I get to a place of his choosing where he intends to kill me.”
“Paris?”
“I don’t think so. But one of his people killed one of ours there.”
“And you are going to Paris to kill a Russian.”
“Not just any Russian. One who works for Kobelev.”
“Which one?”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as he is Kobelev’s man.”
“I am Kobelev’s woman, so I will be your information bank.”
Carter nodded.
“If I refuse?”
“I don’t think you will.”
She sighed. “No, I will not. Kobelev’s people are not noted for being kind, gentle men. If they survive with him, they must be bastards too. Yes, I know of a man in Paris for you. But he is very good, and it will be very dangerous for you. Very dangerous.”
“Who is he?”
“Let us get to Paris first. By then I will feel better about trusting you.”
Carter had to laugh. “Fair enough.”
“What then?” Lydia asked.
“By then Comrade Kobelev will know that I have you, and he will know that I have killed his man there. The next move will be his. His and Ganin’s. They will send me a signal, and it will be a very clear one.”
Lydia shuddered. “Ganin. He is a dangerous one.”
“Do you know him?”
“I only know of him. I know he is the one man on this earth whom Kobelev respects, and in some ways fears.”
Eight
It was almost midnight by the time Carter and Lydia reached Washington, D.C., and took a cab over to the Mariott Twin Bridges Motel across the Potomac. They checked in as man and wife, under the name Bardon, and got a first-floor room with a patio door so that they would have a second exit in case of trouble.
Word most certainly would have already gotten back to Kobelev that Carter had successfully snatched Lydia, and the reaction would be swift. Right now orders had undoubtedly gone out: Get Carter and Borasova! At all costs!
Before they had gone back to their room, Carter made a brief call to Hawk’s private number, informing him where they were staying. He used the house phone as an extra precaution.
They ordered a couple of drinks and a plate of sandwiches from room service, and a half hour later Rupert Smith, AXE Operations chief, showed up. Carter let him in.
“What have you got for us?”
Smitty was looking across the room at Lydia, who had just taken a shower and was sitting propped up in bed, wrapped only in her bathrobe. She smiled.
“Lydia Borasova, Smitty,” Carter said.
“I’ve heard of you, Miss Borasova,” Smitty said. He was obviously taken with her.
“You have me at a disadvantage, Mr...?”
“Smitty is good enough,” Carter said. He turned back to the Operations man. “None of this is in the daily log.”
Smitty shook his head. “He told me the score.” He carried a slim attaché case that he placed on the table and opened. From within he pulled out several items, the first of which were their airline tickets.
“British Airways, the Concorde,” he said. “You’ll be in London at four-thirty in the afternoon, local time. An XJ6 Jaguar sedan, license GK777-77, will be waiting for you in long-term parking at Heathrow... 5B54. In the glove compartment are your tickets for the Channel crossing. You’ll leave immediately.”
Carter glanced at the tickets. “In Paris?”
“You’ll be at the Lancaster on the Rue de Berri near the Champs-Elysees.”
“I know the hotel,” Carter said.
Next Smitty pulled out their passports, international driver’s licenses, and other identification papers. “You’ll be traveling as husband and wife... Robert and Elizabeth Scott. You’re an engineer from Chicago in Paris to speak with the Aerospatile people.”
The passports and other papers were perfect, of course. “No one has been alerted to our coming?” Carter asked.
“Not a soul. It’s just Hawk, myself, you... and Miss Borasova,” Smitty said. He passed Carter a small vial, keeping it hidden in his hand. “This might help you sleep tonight.”
Carter understood, and he nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured. Then in a louder voice, “Has there been any reaction to her disappearance?”
“Not a thing, as far as we can tell. But they know she’s gone. We watched the apartment. They all left.”
“Good,” Carter said.
Smitty studied his face for a moment. “Would you like me to stick around outside tonight?”
Carter shook his head. “Thanks anyway, Smitty.”
“One more thing. Hawk wonders... if you’ve given thought to Paris. Specific thought.”
“Yes, I have.”
Smitty nodded.
“Good night, Smitty. Thanks for your help.”
The Operations chief lingered a moment longer, but he knew better than to interfere in such a delicate operation when it was running. Before and after an assignment he was a stickler for detail, and for justifications. But he allowed AXE operatives a relatively free hand when they were in the middle of the fray. Wisely so.
They shook hands. “Good luck,” Smitty said, and he left.
Carter poured Lydia another glass of Perrier, dropping one of the powerful sleeping tablets into the glass. When it was dissolved, he brought it over to her.
“No, thank you, Nick,” she said, looking up. She had been watching television. Some late movie on cable.
“Drink it,” Carter insisted.
Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t run, you know. I won’t telephone him. I won’t betray you. I want my freedom.”
“I know,” Carter said gently. “But it’s a little too soon for me, and there is too much at stake right now.”
She nodded. “I understand,” she said. She took the glass from Carter and drained it in one swallow. She handed the glass back, then rolled over and closed her eyes. “What time does our plane leave in the morning, Mr. Scott?”