rludlum-shelby.thecassandracompact-第31节

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ng　and　in…transit　facility。
　As　Treloar　and　his　fellow　travelers　shuffled　along；　they　had　no　idea　that　hard　eyes　tucked　against　sniperscopes　were　scrutinizing　their　every　move。　They　could　not　have　guessed　that　the　young　men　in　customs　and　immigration　uniforms；　along　with　the　baggage　handlers；　bus　drivers；　and　maintenance　people；　were　all　heavily　armed　undercover　SAS　operatives。
　Just　before　Treloar　disappeared　through　the　door　leading　into　the　hangar；　he　heard　a　high…pitched　shriek。　Turning；　he　saw　a　trim；　executive　jet　land　gracefully　on　the　runway　two　hundred　yards　away。　He　imagined　that　it　belonged　to　an　obscenely　wealthy　entrepreneur；　or　to　some　sheik；　never　suspecting　that　inside　the　Ilyushin　C…22　a　man　was；　at　that　moment；　receiving　a　detailed　description　of　him　from　a　sniper　who　happened　to　have　Treloar's　forehead　in　his　crosshairs。
　
　〃The　Brits　say　that　1710　is　clean；　sir。〃
　Klein's　voice　whistled　through　the　secure　link。　〃I　got　the　same　report。　You　should　have　heard　Kirov　when　I　gave　him　the　news。　All　hell's　breaking　loose　in　Moscow。〃
　Sitting　in　the　parked　Ilyushin；　Smith　continued　to　watch　the　activity　around　the　American　767。　〃What　about　St。　Petersburg？〃
　〃Kirov's　piling　a　list　of　all　flights　that　have　left　up　to　now。　He's　scrambling　to　get　the　terminal's　departure　tapes；　as　well　as　putting　men　on　the　ground　to　start　interviewing　employees。〃
　Smith　bit　his　lip。　〃It's　all　taking　too　long；　sir。　With　every　hour；　Beria　gets　farther　and　farther　away。〃
　〃I　know。　But　we　can't　hunt　until　we　have　a　target。〃　Klein　paused。　〃What's　your　next　move？〃
　〃There's　nothing　I　can　do　in　London。　I　asked　American　to　get　me　on　1710　and　they　obliged。　It's　scheduled　to　leave　in　about　seventy…five　minutes。　That'll　put　me　in　Washington　sooner　than　if　I　were　to　wait　for　military　transport。〃
　〃I　don't　like　the　idea　of　your　being　without　a　secure　link。〃
　〃The　flight　deck　crew　will　know　that　I'm　onboard；　sir。　If　there's　any　word　from　Moscow；　you　can　radio　the　plane。〃
　〃Under　the　circumstances；　that'll　have　to　do。　In　the　meantime；　try　to　get　some　rest　on　the　flight。　This　thing　is　just　getting　started。〃
　
　Anthony　Price　was　in　his　expansive　office　on　the　sixth　floor　of　the　NSA　headquarters　at　Fort　Meade；　Maryland。　As　deputy　director；　Price　was　responsible　for　the　agency's　day…to…day　operations。　Right　now；　that　meant　keeping　his　staff　on　top　of　the　situation　in　Moscow。　So　far；　the　Russians　were　sticking　with　the　story　that　Chechen　rebels　were　responsible　for　the　massacre…　which　suited　Price　just　fine。　It　gave　him　a　legitimate　reason　to　cover　the　incident。　And　the　longer　the　Russians　chased　the　phantom　terrorists；　the　easier　it　would　be　for　Beria　and　Treloar　to　slip　through　the　net。
　Price　looked　up　when　he　heard　the　knock　on　his　door。　〃e　in。〃
　Price's　senior　analyst；　a　stout　young　woman　with　a　librarian's　fussy　air　about　her；　entered。
　〃The　latest　update　from　our　resources　on　the　ground　in　Moscow；　sir；〃　she　said。　〃Seems　that　General　Kirov　is　very　concerned　about　some　surveillance　video　out　of　Sheremetevo　in　Moscow。〃
　Price　felt　a　constriction　in　his　chest　but　managed　to　keep　his　voice　level。　〃Really？　Why？　Who's　on　the　tape？〃
　〃No　one　knows。　But　for　some　reason　the　Russians　red…flagged　it。　Apparently　the　video　is　very　poor。〃
　Price's　mind　was　racing。　〃That's　it？〃
　〃For　now；　sir。〃
　〃I　want　you　to　stay　on　top　of　that　video。　Anyone　hears　word　one　about　it；　I　want　to　know。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　After　the　analyst　left；　Price　turned　to　his　puter　and　called　up　the　flights　ing　into　Dulles。　There　was　only　one　reason　that　the　Russians　would　be　so　interested　in　the　video　surveillance　tapes：　Beria　had　been　seen　with　somebody。　And　that　person　could　only　be　Adam　Treloar。
　American　1710　was　scheduled　to　arrive　in　a　little　over　six　hours。　Russian　photo　analysis　and　enhancement　was　hardly　state　of　the　art。　It　would　take　their　machines　hours　to　float　up　images。　By　that　time；　1710　should　be　on　the　ground　and　Adam　Treloar　would　be　safe。
　Price　sat　back　in　his　executive　leather　chair；　removed　his　glasses；　and　tapped　a　stem　against　his　front　teeth。　The　situation　in　Moscow　had　degenerated　into　a　near…fiasco。　That　Beria　had　escaped　the　carnage　at　the　train　station　was　nothing　short　of　miraculous。　Equally　amazing　was　the　fact　that　he'd　gotten　to　Sheremetevo　in　time　to　hand　off　the　smallpox　to　Adam　Treloar。
　But　the　surveillance　cameras　had　caught　a　connection　between　the　two　men。　Kirov　had　the　connection。　As　soon　as　he'd　reconstructed　Treloar's　picture；　he　would　run　it　against　the　customs　and　immigration　databanks。　He　would　discover　exactly　when　Treloar　had　entered　and　left　Russia。　He　would　alert　the　CIA　and　FBI　liaisons　at　the　embassy。
　Then　we'd　start　running　Treloar　to　ground；　if　for　no　other　reason　than　he　was　seen　with　Beria。。。。　But　does　Kirov　suspect　that　Treloar　is　the　actual　courier？
　Price　didn't　think　so。　So　far；　everything　indicated　that　the　hunt　was　centered　on　Beria。　And　the　Russians　were　getting　close。　The　bulletins　ing　in　from　NSA　assets　in　St。　Petersburg　indicated　intense　counterintelligence　activity　in　there。
　Price　pulled　up　another　set　of　arrivals。　There　it　was；　the　Finnair　flight；　five　hours　out　of　Dulles。　Could　the　Russians　pull　together　their　information　and　confirm　that　Beria　had　flown　out　of　St。　Petersburg？　If　they　sounded　the　alarms；　how　long　would　it　take　FBI　to　throw　a　net　over　Dulles？
　Not　long。
　〃That's　all　the　time　you　have；　friend；〃　Price　said　to　the　screen。
　Reaching　for　the　phone；　he　punched　in　Richardson's　secure　number。　The　master　plan　had　called　Beria's　presence　in　the　United　States　a　contingency。　But　with　the　exposure　of　Treloar　inevitable；　that　status　was　about　to　change。
　
　
　Major…General　Kirov　had　been　on　his　feet　for　the　better　part　of　twenty…four　hours。　Painkillers；　Lara　Telegin's　unspeakable　betrayal；　and　an　insatiable　desire　to　find　Ivan　Beria　kept　him　going。
　Staring　out　his　office　window　at　the　gathering　twilight；　Kirov　reviewed　the　situation。　In　spite　of　what　he　had　told　Klein；　the　search　for　Beria　was　still　concentrated　in　Moscow。　He　had　listened　to　what　the　American　had　had　to　say；　and　had　been　openly　skeptical　about　his　theory　that　the　killer　had　run　to　St。　Petersburg　in　order　to　get　out　of　Russia。　Kirov　believed　that　the　fiasco　at　the　train　station　had　pletely　shattered　Beria's　intricate　plan。　Obviously　a　contact；　perhaps　ready　to　take　the　smallpox；　had　been　waiting　close　by。　Equally　true　was　that　the　shooting　would　have　frightened　him　off。　Certainly　there　would　have　been　a　fallback　rendezvous　point。　But　between　the　police；　the　militia；　and　the　security　forces；　Kirov　had　more　than　eight　thousand　men　scouring　the　city；　all　searching　for　a　single　face。　The　monster　from　the　Balkans　could　move　around　only　at　great　peril　to　himself…　and　to　his　contact。　Knowing　Beria　as　well　as　he　did；　Kirov　believed　that　he　had　gone　to　ground　somewhere　in　the　city。　That　being　the　case；　it　was　just　a　matter　of　time　before　he　was　flushed　and　the　stolen　smallpox　retrieved。
　But　for　all　his　certainty；　Kirov　knew　better　than　to　place　all　his　bets　on　a　single　roll　of　the　dice。　Honoring　his　promise　to　Klein；　he　had　called　the　head　of　the　Federal　Security　Service　in　St。　Petersburg。　The　FSS　and　the　police　already　had　Beria's　description　and　particulars；　the　call　from　Moscow　put　some　starch　into　their　search。　Kirov　had　instructed　the　FSS　mander　to　concentrate　his　resources　on　the　train　and　bus　stations…　places　where　Beria　would　most　likely　have　entered　the　city…　and　on　the　airport。　At　the　same　time；　passenger　manifests　and　airport　security　videos　were　to　be　thoroughly　checked。　If　there　was　the　slightest　possibility　that　Beria　had　been　or　still　was　in　St。　Petersburg；　Kirov　was　to　be　notified　immediately。
　
　
　Two　hours　after　American　1710　had　departed　London；　Adam　Treloar　finished　his　dinner　wine　and　stowed　his　meal　tray　into　the　armrest　of　his　seat。　Ambling　to　the　lavatory；　he　washed　his　hands　and　brushed　his　teeth　using　the　supplies　provided　in　the　amenities　kit。　On　the　way　back　to　his　seat；　he　decided　to　stretch　his　legs。
　Pulling　back　the　curtain；　he　stepped　into　business　class　and　walked　down　the　left…hand　aisle　of　the　darkened　partment。　Some　of　the　passengers　were　watching　a　movie　on　their　personal　video　screens；　others　were　either　working；　reading；　or　sleeping。
　Treloar　continued　all　the　way　to　the　back　of　the　economy　section；　made　the　turn　at　the　lavatories；　and　returned　up　the　right…hand　aisle。　Back　in　the　business　section；　he　stopped　abruptly　as　a　calculator　fell　at　his　feet。　He　leaned　down　to　pick　it　up　and　was　handing　it　to　the　passenger　in　the　aisle　seat　when　he　chanced　to　look　across　at　the　man　by　the　window；　asleep。
　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　the　passenger　whispered。
　Treloar　nodded　and　took　two　quick　steps　forward；　slipping　behind　the　curtain　into　first　class。
　Impossible！　It　can't　be　him。
　His　breath　came　in　deep　gasps　as　he　tried　desperately　to　calm　himself。　The　sleeping　man　in　the　window　seat　had　had　his　face　to　him：　Jon　Smith。
　〃Can　I　get　you　something；　sir？〃
　Treloar　stared　at　the　flight　attendant　who'd　e　up　to　him。　〃No。。。　thank　you。〃
　He　hurried　back　to　his　seat；　settled　in；　and　pulled　a　blanket　over　himself。
　Treloar　remembered　meeting　Smith　in　Houston。