Алистер Маклин - Air Force One is Down

Another delay, and Philpott could hear clicks multiplying on the line like mating grasshoppers. Then the operator came back on.

‘It is as you say, Mr Philpott, we do not know the man you have spoken of, nor indeed the other name which you used. It might, however, be helpful if you could tell us your immediate movements.’

‘For what purpose?’ Philpott inquired innocently.

The operator had stumbled again over his words, then managed to get out the lame excuse that it could be of assistance to the matter in hand.

Philpott toyed with him for another minute, then said, with a touch of asperity, ‘Oh, very well. I shall be in the Ristorante Aurelio in Piazza Barberini in precisely ten minutes from now. I’ll be drinking coffee at a sidewalk table. I may well enjoy a cigar as well. No doubt I shall insult the waiter and refuse to pay the bill. Piazza Barberini, as you may know, is quite close to the American Embassy in the Via Veneto.’

‘We know where the American Embassy is, Signore ,’ the operator replied stiffly, and broke the connection.

‘You must have been expecting my call,’ Philpott observed pleasantly as the coffee arrived.

Myshkin sniffed disapprovingly and changed the order for himself to caffè negro . Philpott apologised and slid the second cup of cappuccino to his own side of the table.

‘Say what you have to say, and please be quick about it,’ Myshkin pronounced tartly.

‘Aren’t you interested in learning how I knew you were involved, or even that you were in Rome?’ Philpott asked.

‘You didn’t,’ Myshkin rejoined. ‘It was a blind guess. You can also have no certain knowledge of any implication of myself or my country in the affair which at present occupies your attention.’

‘Then why are you here?’ Philpott pressed gently.

He could not risk frightening off the Russian, though he surmised correctly that Myshkin had no intention of being intimidated.

Myshkin allowed an inchoate smile to illumine his wintry face.

‘Curiosity, Mr Philpott, nothing more. Clearly my – eh – swift accession to a position of power in the Politburo has interested not merely the Western secret services but also UNACO, otherwise you would not be familiar with even my real name, let alone my code-name. Also, there …’ he hesitated as if reluctant to admit a weakness, ‘… there may be ways in which we can help each other.’

‘In too deep, Myshkin?’ Philpott inquired ironically.

‘By no means,’ Myshkin protested.

He lit a vile-smelling cigarette with a Dupont lighter and sipped his coffee. Then he examined his fingernails and glanced out appreciatively into the square; a party of four girls, beautiful and freshly groomed, young and enticing, was bound for the Via Veneto.

‘An illicit rendezvous?’ he whispered to Philpott. ‘Meeting sugar daddies at one of those ruinously expensive hotels?’

‘At this time of day?’ Philpott queried, enjoying the Russian’s dilemma.

Then he glanced at his watch and realised that the charade must soon end. The KGB clearly could not take the initiative; so UNACO must.

He began slowly, after lighting a cigar and breathing a speculative wreath of smoke Myshkin’s way, ‘Since you mentioned the matter which is at present occupying my attention, as I believe you phrased it, would you consider it discourteous or outré if I referred to it directly?’

Myshkin affected not to have heard him. Philpott grinned and tapped a corrosion of ash on to the pavement.

‘UNACO’s involvement is obvious,’ Philpott went on. ‘An attack on the personal aircraft of the US President is bad enough, but when the passengers include the leading lights of OPEC, this is something which surely the whole world must deprecate – or at least which it cannot ignore. The criminal Smith, whose name may not be unknown to you–’ Myshkin considered the point, then shook his head ‘–this man Smith stands vilified at the bar of global opinion, from every quarter. It is an act of cynical brigandry, and must be condemned with all the force at the command of right-thinking nations with the security of civilised behaviour at heart.’

Myshkin nodded gravely and methodically stubbed out his cigarette. He looked inquiringly at Philpott and accepted a cigar from the American’s handsome leather case, inscribed in ornate gold letters, ‘With affection and respect: Leonid Brezhnev’.

‘Naturally,’ Philpott said, ‘Smith must be acting alone, since it would be unthinkable that any nation – even more so, should that state happen to be a client of UNACO’s – might offer such a creature solace, let alone help.’

‘Naturally,’ Myshkin agreed.

‘Such a nation, if it exists, would earn the enmity of every member of the UN, especially those countries with influence in sensitive areas such as the Middle East, places which could be crucially important to the state which was unwise enough to support a pirate like Smith, who has no political affiliation nor any conscience.’

‘Indeed,’ Myshkin commented, reading the bill for the coffee with studied concern. ‘These fashionable ristoranti are not cheap, Mr Philpott.’

‘Neither is international respect, General Nesterenko,’ Philpott rejoined. ‘To return to the subject under discussion – such a nation could be gravely mistaken if it assumed that America would take the entire blame for this unfortunate incident, which may well result in the deaths of one or more of the OPEC ministers.’

Myshkin looked sharply at him.

‘What makes you say that?’ he inquired brusquely.

Philpott explained the terms of Smith’s ransom demand and the threat that accompanied it.

‘It looks very much as though America, at the moment anyway, is bearing the brunt of international excoriation,’ the Russian observed.

‘But that,’ Philpott replied earnestly, ‘will last only as long as the world doesn’t know the identity of the nation which helped Smith to set up this hijacking. And once it is established that Smith has received active encouragement and assistance, even down to providing men and armaments for him and smoothing his passage in a hostile environment, the contempt of the injured nations will, without a shadow of doubt, be turned on the country which has made all this possible.’

The Russian grinned, almost admiringly.

‘Your diet must be exclusively founded on carrots and fish, Mr Philpott,’ he said drily. ‘You are consummately adept at shooting in the dark.’

Philpott called the waiter over and paid the bill with a five thousand lire note, neither expecting nor receiving the change due to him. He laid a copy of the newspaper Il Messaggero carefully on the table between himself and the Russian.

‘I know your countrymen pride themselves in keeping up to date with political thought in Italy,’ he said. ‘Tucked into the leader page is the text of a message which will be broadcast on the American Forces’ Network in roughly three minutes from now. It will be repeated at 1000 hours. It is not the news Smith was expecting.

‘It asks for a two-hour delay. As Director of UNACO I shall appreciate it, indeed I would consider it a favour, if some pressure can be brought upon Smith to accede to this request. Obviously, should any harm befall a minister, Smith will be hunted to the ends of the earth. Perhaps you would care to ponder, my dear Myshkin, as to how best this information can be passed to Mister Smith.’

Myshkin looked up at him benignly.

‘I, Mr Philpott? What could conceivably persuade you that I might have some channel of contact with this monster?’

Philpott bowed his head.

‘If I have conveyed that impression to you, General, you have my deepest apologies. No doubt we shall meet again soon.’