Алистер Маклин - Death Train

‘And neither did I, sir!’ she shot back, then touched her temples gingerly. ‘Stefan Werner’s a KGB agent. They found out through him.’

‘Werner, KGB?’ Kolchinsky said from the chair beside the door.

She turned to him and a look of concern crossed her face. He was wearing a thick foam collar around his neck, tilting his head back at an angle.

‘What happened?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Whiplash. It’s a long story. Michael will fill you in on the details later.’ He reached for the cigarettes on the table beside him.

She positioned the pillow against the headboard and sat up. ‘Can I have something to drink? My tongue feels like a piece of recycled leather.’

‘Coffee?’ Philpott indicated the tray on top of the television set.

‘Yes, please,’ she said eagerly.

‘Milk, no sugar?’

‘Yes, sir.’

He poured the coffee out for her and she leaned forward to take it from him. She took several sips before putting the cup and saucer on the bedside table. Thoroughly and professionally she proceeded to tell them everything that had happened, careful to omit any references to having acceded to Hendrique’s demands. It would only have been met with a barrage of criticism, especially from Graham. She had done it because of him and it was a decision she knew she would never regret.

‘So this whole operation’s been funded by the KGB,’ Philpott said once she had finished. ‘So much for your glasnost, Sergei.’

‘Don’t tar us all with the same brush, Malcolm,’ Kolchinsky replied, then turned to Sabrina. ‘Did Werner give you any clue as to his handler’s identity?’

She shook her head.

‘I’ll get on to Zurich and the UN right away, see what they can dig up.’ Kolchinsky rose carefully to his feet.

Philpott crossed to the door and put a hand lightly on Kolchinsky’s shoulder. ‘You know the KGB hierarchy inside out; surely there aren’t that many extremists who would resort to something like this?’

‘More than you think,’ Kolchinsky replied, then left the room.

‘Why didn’t he phone from here?’ Sabrina asked.

‘Because I’m waiting for an important call,’ Philpott replied, then sat down in the chair vacated by Kolchinsky. ‘There’ve been some new developments in the last few hours. I’d just finished telling Mike when you started to stir.’

‘Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, sir?’

‘There wasn’t any need. We can’t make a move until the phone call anyway.’ Philpott took out his pipe and filled it from his tobacco pouch. ‘After we’d received the tip-off about your whereabouts I sent one of our helicopters after the train to tail it for the rest of the journey through to Rome. There was only one snag: the wagon wasn’t anywhere to be seen when the helicopter caught up with the train.’

‘You mean it had been uncoupled?’

Philpott lit his pipe and exhaled the smoke upwards. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. I had our men board the train when it next stopped but Werner and Hendrique had already flown the coop, having disembarked here at Prato some two hours earlier, according to the conductor. The wagon hadn’t been uncoupled at Prato so every station from Modena to Prato had to be contacted to try and find out where it was.’

‘And did you?’

‘Seventy minutes later. A porter at Montepiano – it’s a town about fifteen miles north of here – vaguely recalled seeing a single wagon on one of the lines. The sighting fits in with the time the train was here in Prato. It could be a red herring but it’s the only clue we’ve got. The helicopter team have gone to Montepiano to see what they can find out about the wagon.’

‘And this is the call you’re waiting for, from Montepiano?’

Philpott nodded. ‘Once we know the plutonium’s destination, hopefully you can get there first to prevent it from going any further. One of our helicopters is on standby not far from here and Zurich assures me the pilot knows the countryside like the back of his hand.’

‘So you want us to go ahead regardless of Werner’s threat?’

‘You know UNACO’s policy–’

‘Mike, that’s enough! If you played by the book it would be fair comment but you quoting the Charter is like Stallone quoting Macbeth.’

Sabrina giggled, then clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

Graham eyed her icily.

‘We can’t be at all sure Werner was bluffing when he said he would detonate the plutonium if he were cornered – but to give in to his demands would be to condone criminal behaviour. UNACO was founded precisely to neutralize situations like this. We can’t back down.’ Philpott sucked on his pipe. ‘A marksman shoots to kill when he’s cornered a rabid dog. If the dog’s only wounded it can still bite. I think you know what I’m saying.’ They both nodded.

Philpott indicated with the stem of his pipe the two cream-coloured holdalls by the side of the bed. ‘I managed to get them back from the Swiss authorities last night. I’m sure you want to get changed.’

Sabrina clambered off the bed and picked up the holdalls. ‘Thank you, sir, I’ll appreciate being myself again.’

‘The bathroom’s through there,’ Philpott said, gesturing to the door on his right.

She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Philpott got to his feet and crossed to the window as though his proximity to the door might be misconstrued. ‘Why do you resent her so much, Mike? Is it because she’s a woman? Or because she hasn’t got your level of field experience? Or is it her shooting ability–’

‘It’s got nothing to do with that,’ Graham retorted defensively.

‘Have you ever seen her on the range? I only ask because I know you like to shoot on your own.’

‘I know she’s good, better than me,’ Graham said with an indifferent shrug.

‘I’ve been thinking about the two of you for a couple of days, which was why I had these sent out from New York.’ He opened his attaché case and withdrew a folder. ‘Naturally they’re confidential but as you’re her partner I thought you should see them. They’re the targets she used during her prelim tests. There’re only a couple in here, I could hardly have the life-size ones sent out. Take a look, you might learn something.’

Graham opened the folder and picked up the first target. Beretta 92/15 rounds had been printed in the top right-hand corner. There was a single hole in the centre of the bull the size of a quarter. The second target had Mannlicher Luxus/10 rounds printed in the top right-hand corner. Apart from the one stray bullet hole dissecting the circle around the bull the rest of the bullets had formed an uncanny geometric circle in the centre of the bull. It was as though she had purposefully set out to create another perfect circle within the bull itself.

Philpott pointed to the one flaw on the target. ‘It was her first shot, she hadn’t quite adjusted the sights properly. Nobody’s perfect though.’

Graham closed the folder and handed it to Philpott. ‘I never knew anybody could be that good.’

Philpott held up the folder. ‘I know some of you feel she got into UNACO because of her father’s influence but it wouldn’t have mattered if he were the President or a hot dog vendor on Forty-Second Street – this was the deciding factor that got her into UNACO. She was on the range that morning, not her father.’

‘May I ask you a question, sir, confidentiality aside?’

‘Depends on the question,’ Philpott replied, slipping the folder back into his attaché case.

‘Did her father have any influence on your final decision?’

‘If you’d ever met George Carver you wouldn’t need to ask that question.’