Then he smiled faintly with a sense of victory. His instincts had not failed him this time, as they had too many other times before. It was the same young woman who had traveled on the plane with him from Moscow, except that now she had combed her hair back into a pony tail and changed from a red dress into a green one, probably at the airport in Geneva. He had no doubt that she was the same woman. It was an amusing game, he thought, when the one followed always knew he was being followed, and the only question was by whom. If my colleagues do not pick me up in Cologne, he thought, I could at least ask her to give me a ride to the city.
Dimitri made a mental note that upon his return to Moscow, he should tell Gregory to make sure that the next time, the woman should wear something less conspicuous and flashy.
The landing at Cologne’s Bonn airport was rough and accompanied by loud scraping noises when the landing gear hit the tarmac. In the shuttle transporting the passengers to the terminal, Dimitri again noticed the woman in green as she stood just a few meters away with her back to him. Within five minutes he was already at passport control, this time as James Andrew Miller, a British citizen. The fake British passport looked authentic, yet there was no escaping his anxiety as the German immigration officer leafed through its pages.
“Business or tourist?” he asked. “Tourist.”
The officer quickly stamped the passport and handed it back to Dimitri, who walked briskly through the luggage area outside to a cold, overcast early evening.
“Mr. Miller?” a tall, blond man in a tailored suit and tie stood before him, a black coat over his arm.
“Yes, that’s me”, Dimitri replied.
“My name is Wolfgang. I’m pleased to meet you”, said the blond man in perfect German. “Please follow me.”
The two walked away from the terminal to the parking lot. Wolfgang opened the rear right door of a black Mercedes with its engine running.
Dimitri sank into the black leather seat and Wolfgang joined him on the other side. The driver, a huge man, seemed to be sitting in a tiny seat, the steering wheel disappearing under his massive hands.
Noticing Dimitri’s astonished expression, Wolfgang broke out laughing.
“Welcome”, he proclaimed in German-accented Russian. “In the car, and only in the car, we are allowed to speak Russian. Despite his size, the driver — we call him Colossus — is transparent. As far as you’re concerned, he is deaf, dumb and blind. By the way, he may have the body of a bear, but he has the soul of a bird.”
Dimitri could not contain his astonishment. He means a bird of prey, Dimitri thought to himself.
“He is one of our best and most experienced men. He will now drive us to a house in the city, where you will meet two more of my people, and we’ll review everything tonight. The order I received is that we complete everything from start to finish before daybreak tomorrow. You have a flight to catch early tomorrow morning.”
“Fine”, agreed Dimitri.
The black Mercedes Benz 300 SD glided gracefully on the flawless road to the picturesque town of Siegen, and in less than an hour was already parked in front of an elegant two-story home. A high wooden fence surrounded the house on all sides. Dimitri followed Wolfgang through a black wrought-iron gate to a red brick path leading to the front door. It was already dusk and most of the windows were lit.
Wolfgang rapped on the door once. They were soon inside.
“Olga and Thomas, this is Dimitri”, Wolfgang said.
Dimitri shook their hands and followed Thomas to the living room, where he seated himself in one of the oversized leather armchairs casually placed around the large room.
“Tea or coffee?” asked Olga. She was about six feet tall and wore tight gray leather trousers which emphasized her slender figure. Her smooth blond hair touched her shoulders, and her large, lustrous blue eyes shone in bright contrast to her light skin. She was a stunning Russian beauty. Or was she German?
Dimitri’s gaze was fixed on her breasts, tightly packed into a short leather jacket, unbuttoned at the top to hint at what lay underneath.
Olga, seeing where Dimitri was looking, smiled at him without admonishment.
“Sorry. Please, I apologize”, he mumbled, like a boy caught red- handed. “I prefer tea, please.”
Dimitri and his three hosts now sat at the dining table for a quick dinner of takeaway Chinese food. Wolfgang placed a photograph on the table of a burly young man in a street setting.
“This is the man who will answer your questions”, he explained to Dimitri. “Here, tonight.”
Dimitri studied the man’s face. He looked about 35 years old.
“What can you tell me about him?” he asked.
Wolfgang smiled broadly while pouring himself a shot of vodka from what seemed like a fancy bottle.
“The one who can tell you more about him is Olga”, he teased, grinning. “She knows him inside out.”
They all burst into laughter. Olga seemed less amused.
Then Wolfgang became serious and described the man in the photo.
“The fellow is a sergeant major in the United States Army. His name is William Lance, otherwise known as Bill. He is 35 years old. He serves as a chief fire control duty operator on a Pershing surface-to-surface missile battery. His battery has been deployed in this area for just over a year. He is married with a three-year-old son, and he and his family live in a gated compound which the US army rented in the area. Olga came to know him three months ago and has already acquired a great deal of information from him about the missile battery and its operations.
“Tonight, we’re playing it differently”, Wolfgang continued. “Olga, who already has a date with him tonight in a bar downtown, will bring him here. We will conduct a swift, thorough questioning, after which he will be disposed of. You can also understand that this is Olga’s last mission here, and that she will return to Moscow with you tomorrow morning”, he informed Dimitri.
Exhaling a large breath of air, Dimitri quickly reviewed everything Wolfgang had related.
“Well done. Excellent work you’ve done so far”, Dimitri praised Wolfgang. “A fire control operator is exactly what we need. I’m sure you know how to make him talk. I just need to ask him a few questions, and I don’t need to know what you are going to do with him afterward. In fact, I actually prefer not to know.”
Dimitri turned to Olga. She was perfectly calm.
“I’m sorry that because of my mission you are forced to cut short your stay here. I am sure, however, that your operators in Moscow will know how to utilize your excellent capabilities”, he apologized, rather formally.
Olga thanked him with a dip of her head, and just a hint of a smile.
The small local bar in Siegen’s tiny city center was crowded, noisy, and full of smoke. Olga sat on a stool at the bar and engaged in small talk with the bartender, whom she had known since coming to Siegen a year earlier. Wolfgang’s driver sat at a table in a dark corner, drinking beer from a tall stein and watching the revelers.
A tall, dark-haired, athletically built man in his mid-thirties, wearing a western cowboy hat, approached Olga, who remained in her seat and embraced him warmly. He removed his hat and settled into a bar stool next to her. They seemed like a married couple or long-time lovers, drinking beer from tall porcelain steins, laughing and touching each other frequently. Their intimacy seemed odd to some of the customers in the bar. Americans were well liked in Siegen as good, generous customers, but the sight of a mixed couple, an American and what appeared to be a blond local beauty, caused discomfort to some, and even more to others. But Colossus was in the corner to ensure that discomfort did not escalate to violence.