The Red Collusion Page 4

  A uniformed soldier entered the room and instructed Dimitri to follow him outside.

  The wheels of the Aeroflot Tupolev 154 airliner had just detached from the concrete runway at Moscow’s Domodedovo Airport. The plane shot up to the skies with a deafening noise while banking right in a wide circle to the west. Within four hours, it would land at Geneva International Airport in Switzerland.

  Brigadier General Dimitri scanned the faces of the passengers on the plane, which was largely empty; only about a third of the seats were taken. How many of these passengers were heading for a ski vacation in the Alps, he wondered. Probably none. He speculated as to how many of the passengers were on a state mission. He recognized none of the faces.

  I must try to remember each and every face, he thought. One of them must be following me, and he or she will probably board the connecting flight to Germany as well. He reclined his seat, let go of his thoughts and was soon fast asleep. He had not slept for 36 hours.

  Three hours later, he was already seated in a Lufthansa Boeing 727 for the short flight to Cologne’s Bonn Airport. This flight was to last less than an hour, and Dimitri unbuckled his seat belt and walked to the restroom in the back of the plane, all the while scanning the faces of each passenger. He could not recognize any from his earlier flight from Moscow. But when he returned to his seat, he could not help noticing the face of a woman in her thirties. There was nothing distinctive about her features, and when he returned to his seat, he wondered why she, of all people on the plane, had attracted his attention.

  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.”

&nbs
p; 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.

  Back at the house, the telephone rang. Wolfgang picked it up. “OK, OK”, he said and hung up.

  “Dimitri”, Wolfgang called. “It’s show time.

  “The fish and the bait will leave the bar in ten minutes and will come straight here. Now we need to make sure that you haven’t wasted your time coming here. Right?”

  Wolfgang handed Dimitri a black woolen ski mask. He gave another to Thomas and kept one for himself.

  “We will all cover our faces”, he directed.

  “But you said that we would eliminate him anyway”, Thomas protested. Wolfgang looked at Thomas as if he were a toddler.

  “When will you learn, Thomas? If he sees our faces, he will understand right away that he is not coming out alive and he will not talk. With our faces covered, he will sing right away, as he will assume that we will release him after he gives us answers.”

  Wolfgang was an old hand in the business of getting people to talk.

  “Now”, he said to Thomas, “Turn off all the lights and open the window in the living room. We need to hear them when they come. Hurry!”

  Dimitri looked at Thomas. This is a man who does not attract attention and does not leave an impression, Dimitri thought. He was of medium height with bland facial features; balding, bespectacled. A postal clerk type.

  The hum of a car engine sounded through the open window as the car came to a stop. They heard doors opening and closing and a cheerful, giggly exchange between a man and a woman heading for the house. Soon the door opened, and the man drawled in a loud deep voice, “After you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for being such a gentleman, but it’s dark and you’d better go in first”, demurred the woman, who was Olga.

  The man entered cautiously in total darkness, groping the wall in search of a light switch. Then suddenly a bright flash, similar to lighting, lit the room for a moment, followed by a scorching sound and chirping. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  “Hurry, hurry”, sounded a voice. It was Wolfgang. “Thomas, quick, turn the light on. Let’s drag him to the pantry.”

  The lights went on. The two struggled to move the unconscious Sergeant Major William “Bill” Lance.

  Dimitri sought out Olga. She was sitting in an armchair in the living room, looking out and smoking a cigarette. She was calm, as if she had just returned home from a boring evening with a date. There was nothing in her demeanor that hinted that she knew that the bore she had just dated, married and a father, on a military career path, would be dead within an hour, at most.

  Colossus appeared at the door, closing and locking it. He walked briskly to his business in the pantry. He will not miss an opportunity, Dimitri thought, to refresh his skills of subduing an enemy, squeezing information out of him for dear life, killing him humanely and disposing of him without leaving a trace. It was an activity that would give him a great sense of accomplishment.

  Dimitri followed Colossus to the pantry, which contained a few cans of food on the shelves, a rusty old bicycle and a collection of unwanted household items. Bill Lance, all six feet four inches of him, was seated on a massive wooden chair. His arms and feet were bound with canvas straps to the chair’s armrests and legs. He was heaving, not yet awake.

  Dimitri was concerned. “Wolfgang”, he implored, constantly searching for a sign of life in the prisoner’s face, “I hope your electric shocker did not finish him off completely. He seems halfway to paradise to me.”

  “Trust me”, Wolfgang replied resolutely, while tightening the straps on the man’s feet. “From experience, within four minutes he will be up and singing.”

  Bill Lance began to regain consciousness, coughing and moving his head from side to side. Thomas appeared from nowhere with a small bucket and poured its contents of ice water over the prisoner’s head. The Sergeant Major gasped, opened his eyes and looked up. He appeared to be trying to get up from his chair, but the chair was solidly bolted to the floor. He was struggling. He looked up fearfully at the four hooded men who surrounded him.

  “What the hell!” exclaimed the American.

  None of the captors responded.

  “I swear”, implored the American soldier, “by my wife and son, that I will never again date a German woman. I swear.

  “Now let me go”, he pleaded. “Please.”

  “Sergeant Major Bill Lance, shut your mouth”, Wolfgang barked in heavily accented English. “You wish we were Fascist. If we were neo- Nazis, you would be much better off. Your adultery is against the rules of your military but of no interest to us. We are here tonight to discuss with you a rather technical subject, Pershing missiles. Have you heard about them? If we have time left, we can discuss your infidelities later.”

  Sergeant Major Lance fell silent, taking in the turn of events and the severity of his grim situation. He then returned to his senses and tried his utmost to be as professional as he thought was expected of him.

  “My Name is William Keith Lance, Sergeant Major in the United States Army, serial number 353-40-1733.”

  Wolfgang reached into his coat’s inner pocket and pulled out a handgun. It was a SIG Sauer P220 with a built-in silencer. He cocked it and slowly directed it at the American, bringing it closer to his face.

  “So it is you, Rambo”, Wolfgang snarled in a mocking voice. “OK, Rambo, listen up. You have only two options. One option is that we leave the room, put in earplugs, and let you negotiate your fate with this gorilla”, he said, pointing at Colossus.

  The non-commissioned officer gazed at Colossus, who stood facing him with folded arms.

  “The second option is that we skip the first part and get straight to work”, offered Wolfgang.

  Dimitri watched the scene as if he were in a theater, not believing his eyes. Wolfgang aimed the barrel of his pistol at the American’s left knee and pulled the trigger. A faint puff and the gun action sounded, and through the pungent smoke, Dimitri could see that the nine- millimeter round had pierced the knee of his subject, who screamed in agony. His face was contorted with pain and his eyes looked as though they would pop out of their sockets. His chest was heaving uncontrollably. As if this was not enough, Wolfgang hit the American’s head with the pistol.

  Wolfgang seemed to be in his element when torturing his captive. Dimitri feared that Wolfgang was risking the prisoner’s life before he could be interrogated, but kept his thoughts to himself.

  “You are making too much noise”, snarled Wolfgang, “and it really is annoying to everybody, especially to your girlfriend in the other room. I thought we could ha
ve a laugh together, but now I give you only two options to choose from, right now. The first is that you start talking now, and do it quickly, before you bleed out, because, unfortunately, I don’t have any bandages left. The second option is that I tell you that we are short of time, and my way of hinting is to put a bullet in your other knee.”

  Wolfgang was now aiming the pistol at the American’s right knee. His captive’s eyes were clenched shut in agony and he was weeping profusely. It would break the heart of any man, but not of his tormentor.

  “Don’t do it, please. Please”, begged the captive. “I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

  Dimitri, who was afraid that Wolfgang’s finest moments would cost him valuable information, approached Wolfgang and whispered in his ear.

  “He is mine now”, Dimitri said.

  Dimitri grabbed a chair and dragged it towards the American. He sat very close to his subject, a few inches from his face. Wolfgang spoke again.

  “Sergeant Major, my friend will now ask you several questions that you will answer truthfully. Any wrong answer will cost you another bullet in the leg, and then we will move up your body. Just take into account that I have only two magazines of ammunition. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir” mumbled the sergeant major unintelligibly. “What is your job in the battery?”

  “I am a non-commissioned officer in the battery fire control unit, Sir.”

  “Do you, or does anyone else in the battery, have the capacity to independently launch a missile?”

  “I can launch, sir, but the missile will have no target.” “What do you mean by ‘no target’?”

  Struggling to answer, the sergeant major did his best to keep his voice steady.

  “In order for the missile to hit a specific target, we need to input a code that we receive with the order from the United States Army Headquarters here in West Germany, Sir.”

  “You mean to say, Sergeant, that you have no preselected targets and codes in the battery’s safe box in case of an emergency?”