The Berlin Conspiracy Part 11

"What's funny?" I asked.

"How'd you manage to pick a guy with such a hot car?"

"Just lucky, I guess," I said, but Sam had stopped laughing.

"Why don't you just tell me where you are so I can send somebody out to bring you in?"

"Somebody like Smith?"

He didn't say anything for a minute and I could tell he was p.i.s.sed off. "I guess you think I'm part of the conspiracy, huh? Maybe all of us are. Powell, me, Smith ... Who else? Maybe the whole f.u.c.king world's out to get you."

"Let's just say I want to finish what I started."

An unhappy silence greeted me. When he finally spoke, it was in a low-key, cold-blooded voice that I'd heard on Sam before, but never directed at me: "If you f.u.c.k with me on this, Jack, I'm gonna have to cut you loose. You'll be on your own out there with n.o.body to come home to."

It sent a s.h.i.+ver up my spine, which was exactly what it was supposed to do.

"Be smart, for a change," he added.

I was about to spit out some kind of bravado bulls.h.i.+t, but I came up empty, which was unusual but probably just as well. So I just said, "Sorry you feel that way, Sam," and hung up.

I went back to the bar, nursed my beer, and chain-smoked Marlboros while I thought things through. It was disturbing. If you f.u.c.k with me on this... If you f.u.c.k with me on this... he'd said. he'd said. f.u.c.k with him? f.u.c.k with him? That wasn't how Sam and I operated. What the h.e.l.l was it supposed to mean, anyway? f.u.c.k with him That wasn't how Sam and I operated. What the h.e.l.l was it supposed to mean, anyway? f.u.c.k with him on what?! on what?! And how did he think I'd respond to that kind of bulls.h.i.+t? Fold? Christ, he knew me better than that. But he meant it, that was for sure. So there was no going back now, even if I wanted to. And how did he think I'd respond to that kind of bulls.h.i.+t? Fold? Christ, he knew me better than that. But he meant it, that was for sure. So there was no going back now, even if I wanted to.

It looked like I was going to have to depend on the Colonel. Not the most comforting thought I'd ever had, but for some inexplicable reason I felt he was playing it straight with me. There was no evidence of that and nothing in his dossier to suggest that he was anything other than a callous instrument of the state, but I had a gut feeling-a sense that I could trust him. Of course, that's exactly when you're most vulnerable. I'd try not to forget that.

I considered how to play it. The Colonel couldn't know that I was on my own now; that would make him too comfortable. He'd have to think I could walk out at any time. And I couldn't seem too eager, either. In fact, I had to be the opposite, play it cool, let him think I couldn't care less. If he was on the level, you had to a.s.sume he was operating with Moscow's blessing, at the highest levels, and that the idea was to prevent the a.s.sa.s.sination. If not, why bother telling anyone? So the Colonel would be getting pressure from above. I'd go in like I didn't have a care in the world, say I'd pa.s.sed the information on and was happy to be heading back to Florida. If he let me go, then I'd know it was all a scam. On the other hand, if he was serious he'd have to give me something to work with.

It was pus.h.i.+ng five o'clock and the place was filling up, so I decided to move on. When I hit the street I realized I was a bit woozier than I should've been on two beers. Maybe it was the pack of Marlboros that I'd polished off, or the fact that I hadn't had any real food in two days. I stopped at the first Imbiss I saw-one of the street-corner kiosks that were scattered around the city-and ordered sausages and coffee.

As I stood at the counter I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone, that someone had been watching me since I left the bar. Just to be sure I'd change cars a couple of times on the way to the meeting.

NINE.

I arrived forty minutes early and had the taxi pull up a block away from the house on Berlinerstra.s.se. I wanted to see if I could catch the Colonel off guard, maybe get ahead of the game for a change. The driver, happy enough with the meter ticking over, sank his head into a newspaper while I waited, watching the last rays of sunlight give way to a veil of murky darkness. The night air brought with it a sense of antic.i.p.ation and I felt a surge of energy. and had the taxi pull up a block away from the house on Berlinerstra.s.se. I wanted to see if I could catch the Colonel off guard, maybe get ahead of the game for a change. The driver, happy enough with the meter ticking over, sank his head into a newspaper while I waited, watching the last rays of sunlight give way to a veil of murky darkness. The night air brought with it a sense of antic.i.p.ation and I felt a surge of energy.

There was no sign of anything by nine o'clock, so I paid the driver and sent him off. I made my way through the pitch-black toward the house, wondering if the Colonel was already inside or if he was the one who was gonna be late this time. It seemed unlikely that he'd hang around in that rat hole for longer than he had to. I wished I'd thought of buying a flashlight.

The street was eerily quiet and my heart picked up a beat as I approached the gate. Something made me stop there-a noise, maybe thirty yards in front of me. I held my breath and listened....

Suddenly an engine roared to life and I was. .h.i.t with a blinding white light. The car came off the mark quickly and was there before I could figure out which way to jump. It screeched to a halt in front of me and sat there idling for a moment. Then the Colonel's raspy voice came at me out of the darkness.

"Get in," he ordered.

The door opened and I slid into the backseat of the Mercedes sedan. The Colonel sat there, motionless, his face obscured by shadow. A gla.s.s part.i.tion separated us from the driver, who eased the car into gear and gently pulled away.

"You certainly have a flair for the theatrical," I said after a moment of dark silence.

"Yes," he said ambiguously, reaching for one of his revolting cigarettes. He lit up without offering me one, which was just as well because I probably would have taken it. "Have you made any progress?"

"I pa.s.sed your information on," I answered. "It's out of my hands now."

The light caught his face as he turned toward me. He looked edgy, kind of anxious, unlike when I'd seen him before. "Did they tell you that I'm running a disinformation campaign?"

"Something like that," I answered.

"What do you think?"

"I think I'd have a hard time buying your story even if it was in paperback."

He let that stand for a moment, nervously flicking an ash. "Fact can be stranger than fiction," he finally remarked. "That's what they say, isn't it?"

"They say a lot of things and most of them aren't true. Anyway, your story's a bit thin in the plot department."

"I was hoping you would help fill it out."

"You hoped wrong. I'm going home, where the only thing that smells fishy are fish."

"I see." He removed his gla.s.ses and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the first overt sign of strain I'd seen. "Why did you come, then?" he asked.

"I guess I wanted to see if you had anything new to say," I shrugged.

"I can't tell you what I don't know."

"Then why are you you here?" here?"

He sighed. "What would you like me to say?"

I paused, looked him in the eye. "You could tell me about Iceberg."

He looked at me blankly. "I've never heard of it. What is it?" I shook my head. "You don't believe me," he said.

"Imagine that," I laughed.

"What reason do I have to lie?"

"You guys don't need a reason. It comes naturally."

"Do you include yourself in that?"

"You invited me to this party, Colonel. I'm happy to go home if we're gonna play the same game over and over."

"I see," he said quietly. "Where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us nowhere," I answered bluntly. "So feel free to drop me anywhere."

He returned my stare for a moment, then nodded. "Of course." He tapped the gla.s.s and signaled the driver to pull over. There was nothing out there but darkness and trees and more darkness. We were probably in Grunewald Forest, a ma.s.sive woodland in the southwest corner of the city. It was a long walk to anywhere, even if I had somewhere to go, which I didn't.

He smiled. "Is this all right?"

"Sure," I said, hoping my bluff was better than his. "Perfect."

I opened the door, stepped onto the road, and looked around. If it wasn't a bluff I'd be sleeping under a tree. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Thanks for the ride," I said. "Let's do it again soon." I started to close the door but he stopped me.

"There is one thing," he said. "Something I don't understand."

"What's that?"

"If you're so certain that I'm lying, why did you perform such a dramatic escape in order to meet me?"

"You know about that, huh?" I was busted, so there was no use pretending.

"You weren't very subtle."

"Not my specialty," I agreed. "Did you actually see it?"

"Enough to know that they want to keep you away from me. Why do you think that is?"

"They think you're a bad influence."

He motioned me back into the car. "You have nowhere else to go, so you might as well get in." He was right, so I did and we moved off, saving me from a night with the squirrels.

"It seems that circ.u.mstances have forced us into a temporary alliance," he said.

"What's your angle in this?" I asked.

"The same as yours."

"Which is ... ?"

"To prevent something stupid from happening."

"What else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Why did you lie about Iceberg?"

"I wanted to see what you already knew," he shrugged.

"Give me a little credit, Colonel."

"You're right. I apologize." He cleared his throat and continued. "Iceberg is the code name for a unit working under the CIA Executive Action Group known as ZR/RIFLE. Have you heard of it?"

"Not by name," I confessed. I knew the Company had been involved in several political a.s.sa.s.sinations, directly or indirectly, in recent years, but those operations were held pretty close to the vest. I was surprised the Colonel knew the code name and even more surprised he was telling me he knew.

He went on: "Iceberg is the public-relations unit within the group. They attempt to divert blame by creating false evidence or, at the very least, to cause enough confusion that no one can be certain who is behind the action."

"Plausible deniability," I added.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me about it the first time we met?"

"I wanted to see what, if anything, they would tell you."

"They told me it's KGB, and that you're probably part of it."

"That's what they would say." He put another cigarette between his lips. "It's not true."

"And that's what you would say."

He lit up. "For the moment, you don't have any other choice but to believe me." It was bluntly put, but it was on the money. I hadn't just burned my bridges, I'd incinerated them.

"Okay," I conceded. "Let's say I believe you and there's some kind of internal conspiracy to get Kennedy. What makes you think I can do anything about it? As you pointed out, my stock's not too high at the moment."

"It's possible you have more friends than you think. ... Sam Clay, for example."

I gave him a look, genuinely surprised. "Is that why you dragged me into this?"

"Not entirely."

"Because if you think I have some kind of special influence over Sam, then you really are wasting your time."

"He recruited you, didn't he? And was always your advocate within the agency."

"Was is the key word," I stressed. "You must have a h.e.l.l of a mole hidden away somewhere." is the key word," I stressed. "You must have a h.e.l.l of a mole hidden away somewhere."

"Because I know about your relations.h.i.+p with Clay?" He forced a laugh. "That's hardly top secret."

"ZR/RIFLE is. How do you know about that?"

"That's not going to be part of our discussion," he said firmly.

"This isn't a discussion," I said, getting peeved. "It's a G.o.dd.a.m.ned merry-go-round! How am I supposed to do anything if you won't tell me anything? How did you come across this alleged conspiracy?"

"In the course of-"

"-our normal intelligence activities! See what I mean? It's deja vu all over again. If you can't give me anything to work with, Colonel Becher, what the h.e.l.l are we doing here?"

He took a long drag off his cigarette. "Bravo, you know my name. Should I be impressed?"