Алистер Маклин - Death Train

‘What happened about the detonator, sir?’ Sabrina asked.

‘I was coming to that. All six kegs were exactly the same weight and it took our bomb-disposal team four and a half hours under vacuum conditions to find the whole thing was an elaborate hoax. Five of the kegs contained the Plutonium-IV compound. The sixth, supposedly rigged out with the explosive device, actually contained nothing more lethal than sand. It was all the work of Konstatin Benin.’

‘Benin?’ Graham muttered. ‘He was a co-founder of Balashikha, wasn’t he?’

‘Correct. He was also Stefan Werner’s – or Aleksei Lubanov, if you prefer – and Karen Schendel’s handler. We’ve proved that beyond any doubt. Sergei’s on his way to Moscow right now to confront him with the evidence.’

‘What about the plutonium, sir?’ Whitlock asked.

‘It’s already been returned to Mainz. Unfortunately the grain aboard the Napoli had to be destroyed but UNICEF have already sent out a replacement load. It should reach Ethiopia by the end of the week.’

The telephone rang again.

‘Excuse me,’ Philpott said, then lifted the receiver to his ear. He smiled as he listened to the caller on the other end. ‘Well, well, well, now that is interesting. Thanks for calling, Matt, I appreciate it.’ He replaced the receiver. ‘That was the Pentagon. News has just reached them that an industrial laboratory outside Benghazi was razed to the ground by a mysterious fire in the early hours of the morning.’

‘It wouldn’t happen to be the same one the plutonium was bound for, sir?’ Sabrina asked.

‘The very same.’

‘Did we have a unit in Benghazi at the time?’ Graham asked.

‘We haven’t had a unit in Libya for the past five months. The only foreign vessel in the area at the time was a Russian submarine. It would seem Sergei’s hint to the Kremlin paid off after all. That’s the cherry on the top as far as I’m concerned.’ Philpott pulled a foolscap pad towards him. ‘Unlike you three I do have work to do.’

‘Does that mean we can go, sir?’ Graham asked, glancing at his wristwatch.

‘For someone who arrived fifteen minutes late you’re certainly in a hurry to get away. What’s the rush?’

‘There’s a game on at the Yankee Stadium, it starts in an hour’s time.’

‘Who’re they playing?’ Whitlock asked.

‘Boston Red Sox.’

‘Ouch,’ Whitlock said, wincing. ‘The Yankees are going to need all the support they can get against that kind of opposition.’

‘I didn’t know you followed baseball?’ Graham said, surprised.

‘I don’t really but one thing I’ve learnt since settling here is that baseball and football are an integral part of daily New York life. I’ll have my fingers crossed for them this afternoon.’

Graham patted Whitlock’s arm then turned to Philpott. ‘Goodbye, sir.’

‘Bye, Mike, and well done. Well done all of you.’ Philpott picked up the transmitter and activated the door panel.

‘How long are you in New York for?’ Sabrina asked Graham as she walked with him to the door.

‘I’ll probably be leaving tomorrow.’

‘What were you planning on doing tonight?’

‘Probably take in a movie,’ he muttered.

‘Fancy some company?’

He stared at the carpet and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

‘It was just a thought,’ she said, breaking the lingering silence. ‘And Mike, thanks for the little guy–’

‘Yeah,’ he said, then walked to the outer office door.

The receptionist activated it for him.

He paused to glance back at Sabrina. ‘I hope you like Westerns.’

He was gone before she could answer.

‘Come on, I’ll buy you a tuna on rye at the “Healthworks” around the corner,’ Whitlock said behind her. ‘If you can spare the time, that is?’

‘Meaning?’ she said hesitantly, taking the cardboard box from him.

‘I thought you might want to spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for your date,’ he teased gently.

‘That jibe will cost you a side salad and an orange juice on top of the tuna on rye,’ she said, affecting a supercilious tone.

They said goodbye to Philpott then walked in silence down the corridor.

‘So, any idea for your hamster’s name?’ he asked as they entered the lift.

‘Quarterback,’ she replied as the door closed. ‘What else?’

Benin had first met Kolchinsky twenty-two years before when he had been assigned to head the Surveillance Unit at the Lubianka, the KGB headquarters in the heart of Moscow.

Kolchinsky had been his deputy. Their initial wariness of each other quickly developed into antipathy and one of the main reasons for Benin’s transfer to the Gaczyna spy school was because of their inability to work together. Both of them were intensely ambitious but their ideologies were vastly different. Benin was a Stalinist, an extremist, whereas Kolchinsky was a moderate, always searching for reforms to curb the often dictatorial powers of the KGB hierarchy. Kolchinsky’s liberal views gained him few friends and it was known that his banishment to the West as a military attaché had been mainly for his own protection. Neither of them had changed their ideologies in twenty-two years–

Benin consulted his wristwatch. He had kept Kolchinsky waiting for twenty minutes in the outer office. It had been a last defiant gesture of his authority. He picked up the receiver and dialled a single number.

‘Send in Comrade Kolchinsky.’ The secretary led Kolchinsky into Benin’s office, then withdrew, closing the door behind him.

‘I can see by your stomach that the West agrees with you,’ Benin said icily, then gestured to the foam collar around Kolchinsky’s neck. ‘Something serious?’

‘I’d be more worried about my own neck if I were you,’ Kolchinsky retorted and sat down.

‘I take it you’re here to read me my last rites?’

Kolchinsky ignored the sarcasm and opened his attaché case. He withdrew a folder, then the detonator, and tossed them on to the table in front of Benin. ‘The detonator was still in Werner’s hand when the body was recovered.’

Benin picked it up. ‘I had to make him believe it was for real. I had to make them all believe it was for real. After all, reality is far more convincing than acting.’

Kolchinsky removed a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

‘I don’t allow smoking in my office.’

‘The Politburo doesn’t allow treason in their country,’ Kolchinsky replied, then lit the cigarette.

‘There is one piece of the jigsaw still missing. Your motive.’

‘Is this where I’m supposed to break down and confess?’

‘There’s more than enough incriminating evidence against you in here,’ Kolchinsky replied, tapping the folder. ‘Anyway, the KGB will have their own methods of extracting a full confession out of you. I don’t think I need to remind you of those methods, you initiated many of them yourself.’

Benin thought for a moment before speaking. ‘First the Government used this glasnost policy as a means of appeasing the West. Now they’re tampering with our strategic nuclear defences. My plan was merely an attempt to stop them. Once the plutonium reached Libya safely I intended to leak a story to several of the West’s leading newspapers that while our beloved leader was signing disarmament treaties Russia was already starting to build a new cache of nuclear weapons to replace those to be officially scrapped, using plutonium siphoned off from a Western nuclear plant and being constructed in a country allied to ours. He could have argued all he wanted but all the documented proof would have been there in black and white for the world to see. His credibility would have been shattered. Even if some Western leaders were inclined to believe his sincerity there would have been more than enough sceptics to ensure that any more arms reduction talks would be set back by several years at the very least.’