“Interesting?” He thought about the Texan who had tried to borrow money. “Not really.”
“Oh?”
Mann looked at him. The reporter obviously expected him to say more. “You’ll certainly be prominent in it.” “There was this Russian girl.”
Robert made a note. “Really? Tell me about her.”
“Well, we got to talking, and I explained to her how backward Russia was and what terrible trouble they were heading for unless they changed.”
“She must have been very impressed,” Robert said.
“Oh, she was. Seemed like a bright girl. For a Russian, that is. They’re all pretty insulated, you know.”
“Did she mention her name?”
“No—wait. It was Olga something.”
“Did she happen to say where she was from?”
“Yes. She works as a librarian at the main branch in Kiev. It was her first trip abroad, I guess because of glasnost. If you want my opinion…” He stopped to make sure Robert was writing it down. “Gorbachev sent Russia to hell in a handbasket. East Germany was handed to Bonn on a plate. On the political front, Gorbachev moved too fast, and on the economic front he moved too slowly.”
“That’s fascinating,” Robert murmured. He spent another half hour with the banker, listening to his opinionated comments on everything from the Common Market to arms control. He was able to get no further information about other passengers.
When Robert returned to his hotel, he telephoned General Hilliard’s office.
“Just a moment, Commander Bellamy.”
He heard a series of clicks, and then General Hilliard was on the line.
“Yes, Commander?”
“I’ve traced another passenger, General.”
“The name?”
“William Mann. He owns a bank in Fort Smith, Canada.”
“Thank you. I’ll have the Canadian authorities speak to him right away.”
“By the way, he gave me another lead. I’ll be flying to Russia this evening. I’ll need a visa from Intourist.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Fort Smith.”
“Stop at the Visigoth Hotel in Stockholm. There will be an envelope for you at the desk.”
“Thank you.”
FLASH MESSAGE
TOP SECRET ULTRA
NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR CGHQ
EYES ONLY
COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES
SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY
7. WILLIAM MANN—FORT SMITH
END OF MESSAGE
At eleven o’clock that evening, William Mann’s doorbell rang. He was not expecting anyone, and he disliked unannounced callers. His housekeeper had retired, and his wife was asleep in her room upstairs. Annoyed, Mann opened the front door. Two men dressed in black suits stood in the doorway.
“William Mann?”
“Yes.”
One of the men pulled out an identification card. “We’re from the Bank of Canada. May we come in?”
Mann frowned. “What’s this about?”
“We would prefer to discuss this inside, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well.” He led the men into the living room.
“You were recently in Switzerland, were you not?”
The question threw him off guard. “What? Yes, but what on earth—?”
“While you were gone we had your books audited, Mr. Mann. Are you aware that there is a shortage in your bank of one million dollars?”
William Mann looked at the two men, aghast. “What are you talking about? I check those books every week myself. There has never been one penny missing!”
“One million dollars, Mr. Mann. We think you’re responsible for embezzling it.”
His face was turning red. He found himself sputtering. “How—how dare you! Get out of here before I call the police.”
“That won’t do you any good. What we want you to do is repent.”
He was staring at them now, confused. “Repent? Repent what? You’re crazy!”
“No, sir.”
One of the men pulled out a gun. “Sit down, Mr. Mann.”
Oh, my God! I’m being robbed. “Look,” Mann said, “take whatever you want. There’s no need for violence and—”
“Sit down, please.”
The second man walked over to the liquor cabinet. It was locked. He smashed the glass and opened the cabinet. He picked up a large water glass, filled it with scotch, and carried it over to where Mann was seated.
“Drink this. It will relax you.”
“I—I never drink after dinner. My doctor—”
The other man put the gun to William Mann’s temple. “Drink it, or the glass is going to be full of your brains.”