Day of Wrath

“You mean, after the American had detected your foolish mistake!”

Reichardt’s voice was low and menacing — like the growl of a lion closing in on its prey. “So now the Americans or the MVD will send more people to probe your activities here. And this time they will sweep Kandalaksha from one end to the other!”

Serov nodded stiffly. “Yes, that is a possibility.” With an effort, Serov tried to regain his composure and put himself back on an equal footing with the German. “But I have taken additional steps to ensure that any official investigation will find nothing of interest. After all, the American, Avery, only stumbled across our operation by chance.

We can withstand additional scrutiny.”

“So you hope,” Reichardt replied icily. He paused a moment, considering. “But if you are right, then this crash investigation is our biggest remaining problem.”

Serov felt himself starting to relax. The phrase “our problem” reinforced his growing belief that the other man had decided against liquidating him — at least for the time being. He leaned forward.

“They should find nothing incriminating in the wreckage.

Captain Grushtin is an efficient officer. He does not make mistakes.”

Reichardt frowned. “A purely Russian investigation of this air crash would not trouble me, Serov. Such an investigation could be controlled.”

He scowled, thinking aloud now. “But I find the American presence worrying. Managing them will require activating special assets I had hoped to preserve for another day.”

Serov kept quiet. The German had already made it very clear that security arrangements beyond Kandalaksha were not Serov’s concern.

Reichardt shrugged. “That is another matter.” His voice sharpened.

“You are quite sure there are no more ‘mistakes’ waiting to be found at your end of the Operation?”

Increasingly confident, Serov nodded. “My officers and I have taken every possible precaution, Herr Reichardt.”

He froze, suddenly aware of Reichardt’s cold gray stare boring into him., “Do not try my patience, Serov. You promised me perfection once before. You failed. And your failure placed this entire operation in jeopardy.”

Reichardt paused, then took two steps closer to the Russian, bringing them only an arm’s length apart. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Let me be very, very clear, Feodor Mikhailovich. One more error. One more accident. Anything.

Anything at all. If this transaction is compromised in any way by your actions or those of your men, you will die.”

The German smiled cruelly. “And I promise you that your death will be painful, as will be the deaths of your wife and daughters.” He let that sink in, watching the horror spread across Serov’s face with satisfaction. “Sergeant Kurgin is not my only agent on this base. I will be watching you, Feodor Mikhailovich.

Remember that.”

Reichardt turned abruptly and strode toward the door. Serov followed him, moving slowly on legs that felt shaky.

At the door, the German issued one final warning. “Your only chance of survival is to keep this operation secure and secret.

And you had better hope to God the investigators find nothing incriminating at that crash site.”

He rapped on the door twice, and it slid open. Kurgin came in and walked over to the staff car. Another car was waiting outside.

Without another word, Reichardt turned his back on Serov and climbed into the second car. Moments later it sped off, leaving the Russian general and his new orderly alone.

Stunned, Serov shuddered.

Then, aware that Sergeant Kurgin was watching him, he fought for control over his expression. You knew what you were undertaking, he told himself sternly. He was not a child who could run home crying because the game had suddenly turned sour.

As a fighter pilot, Serov had developed a reputation as a skilled gambler — as a man always willing to push his aircraft to its limits in pursuit of victory. Nothing in his personality had changed with increasing age and rank. And, despite Reichardt’s threats, the Operation still appealed to him. The risks, even now, were manageable, and the rewards-he allowed himself to visualize a vast estate perched above sunlit Caribbean waters — the rewards were dazzling.

No, Serov told himself again, nothing had changed. Not really.

Nothing except that he now knew with absolute certainty that Reichardt would kill his entire family without remorse — should he fail. Well, he should have anticipated that. The stakes were high, very high, both for winning and for losing.

MAY 26

_{Near Tail, Saudi Arabia (D MINUS 26)}

Prince Ibrahim al Saud’s country estate covered several hundred acres of rolling hillside south of Taif. Located in the foothills of the Asir mountain range paralleling the Red Sea, the town was a popular summer getaway for many Saudis. It provided a restful contrast to the bustling cities of Jedda and Riyadh. The higher elevation made it marginally cooler, and irrigation held the sun-baked brown rock of the surrounding landscape at bay.