Kobelev climbed into the car. Arkadi Ganin sat on the opposite side, his eyes hollow, his complexion somewhat pale.
“Comrade General,” Ganin said softly. There was no fear in his eyes, something Kobelev had been concerned about.
“How did this happen?” Kobelev barked.
The driver had gotten in behind the wheel, and they moved off the airstrip.
“He came up the outside of the tower,” Ganin said. “It was incredible. I looked down, and there he was.”
“Had your silly bomb gone off... then what, Arkadi Konstantinovich? Or had Carter been a split second earlier — and his shot done more than simply give you a flesh wound — then what?”
“It did not happen, comrade. And now he is wanted by the police—”
“Already their State Department has calmed the French, who are claiming they were looking for the wrong man,” Kobelev cut in.
Ganin sat forward in surprise.
“Yes, Nick Carter has his own ‘puppet master.’ David Hawk. He is very good. He has caused me trouble before.”
“Eliminate him.”
“Impossible, let me tell you.”
Ganin sank back in the seat. “Where is Carter now?”
“Presumably on his way to Bonn, although he has not yet been spotted. But our people there will find him.”
Ganin kept silent.
“And when they do, you will leave him alone,” Kobelev said with feeling. “You will not go to Bonn.”
“I do not understand...”
“No, you do not!” Kobelev exploded. “In Paris your simple job was to get the girl. You were to have lured Carter out of his hotel, and then gone in for her. There would have been time later for you to meet with him. Your little trick nearly cost us the entire operation. You badly underestimated Carter. The next time he will kill you. And if he does not, I will.”
Ganin, chastised, said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Kobelev was an awesome power in Moscow. An angry Kobelev was ten thousand times more dangerous.
Kobelev forced himself to calm down. He had done a lot of thinking about this problem on the flight from Moscow, and he had come to a number of conclusions. More than ever before he wanted Carter dead. Only now he realized he had gone at the assignment with blinders on. He had gone ahead forgetting just how dangerous Carter and his boss, David Hawk, were.
There would be no more playing around. He would dislodge Carter from Bonn as soon as possible and either recapture or kill the girl. And, in the end, he would make sure Carter was killed. At the very first opportunity, no matter how crude, how abrupt, or how messy it was. There would be no more games with N3. He was going to be a dead man the moment he stepped outside of Bonn.
There were too many delicate operations going on in Bonn at the moment, with the regular KBG, to go after Carter there. It would upset the Presidium. He had been told that, in no uncertain terms, just before he had left Moscow: “Wrap this up, Comrade General. Soon, but not in Bonn. There can be no involvement by yourself or Ganin in Bonn.”
Kobelev turned to Ganin.
“Tonight you will go and make sure everything is in readiness,” he said. “There will be no mistakes this time. The moment he steps into your sights, I want him dead.”
A hard look had come into Ganin’s eyes. He nodded. “It is a change in plans, then, Comrade General? I am to kill him at the first opportunity?”
“At the very first opportunity!”
“And the girl?”
Kobelev smiled. “The girl will be taken care of in Bonn. Rest assured.”
It was cold, overcast, and raining when the train from Metz pulled into the station in downtown Bonn. There had been no trouble at the border crossings, nor were there any delays in the West German capital.
Outside the station they got a cab, and Carter ordered the driver to take them out to the Köln-Bonn airport a few miles northwest of the city. Lydia was surprised, but she said nothing.
It bothered Carter that beyond the announcement of Borodin’s pending “assignment” to Bonn, Kobelev had done nothing else to spotlight this as the next location.
There was the possibility that Ganin’s wound was severe enough to take him out of the picture. In that case the puppet master would be regrouping somewhere. Rethinking his next objective. But Carter doubted that was the case. There had not been enough blood on the roof of the observation room. Carter was betting that Ganin’s wound was nothing more than a superficial one.
Kobelev’s real concern at the moment, he suspected, would be Lydia’s continued freedom. Perhaps they were going to use Bonn as nothing more than the place where they’d attempt to get her back. Or kill her.
He glanced at her. She was very frightened. She was not a stupid woman. Most likely she had come to the same conclusion herself. Now Carter wanted to buy them an escape hole before they were spotted in Bonn, which he had no doubt they would be. In fact he wanted to be spotted by Kobelev’s people. Perhaps it would force their hand.
At the airport an hour later, Carter bought two first-class tickets — Bonn to Frankfurt, then Frankfurt direct to New York — under their cover names on the flight that left the following morning at eight o’clock.
At first Lydia thought they were actually going back to the States, but in the café where they had a late lunch, he dashed her hopes.
“They’ll know we’re here by this afternoon at the latest,” he said.
“So we keep under cover until morning, and then leave?” she inquired hopefully.
Carter shook his head. “Kobelev hasn’t set up anything here in Bonn for us. He’ll know we’re here. I’m merely forcing his hand. He’ll know about our reservations, which will give him until eight tomorrow morning to do something.”
Lydia looked at him incredulously. “You love this, don’t you?”
“It’s my job,” Carter said flatly. “Before it’s over, Ganin and Kobelev will be dead.”
“Either that, or you and I will be dead,” she said softly. She raised her head. “I don’t want to play this game any longer.”
“You have no choice now.”
Lydia sucked in her breath and lowered her eyes. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Until he’s dead, he won’t rest with you out there on the loose. You know that.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“There will be an attempt here in Bonn to grab you.”
“Or kill me,” she said.
Carter nodded. At this stage of the game nothing would be gained by lying to her. “I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Another thought dawned on her. “My God, you’re going to use me as bait!”
“You’re as safe here, Lydia, as you would be anywhere else. At least here we have a fair idea of what to expect. With the reservations for the flight tomorrow morning, we even know the time frame. It’ll force Kobelev’s hand. Whatever happens here will lead to him and to Ganin. And then it will truly be finished. Once and for all you will be free without fear of reprisal.”
“They’ll keep coming after me.”
“No. Once Kobelev is dead, the Kremlin will want no further part of this thing. They’ll back off, lick their wounds, and try something different somewhere else. Once Kobelev and Ganin are eliminated, the book will be closed.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“Believe it, Lydia, because there is nothing else.”
They rented a Mercedes 190, a small sedan, at the Hertz counter and drove back into Bonn, checking in at the Königshof Hotel on Adenauerallee just off the Munsterplatz in the heart of the downtown area. It was a fine old hotel with a good wine cellar and a particularly good restaurant. Carter picked the hotel because it was a favorite for visiting businessmen, and it would be a place where he and Lydia would be fairly visible.