Checkpoint Charlie by Brian Garfield

Author:Brian Garfield [Garfield, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com / Open Road
Published: 2012-03-24T14:35:04+00:00

Charlie

in Moscow

THE PLANE DELIVERED ME to Sheremetevo at eleven Tuesday morning but it was past three by the time the Attaché’s car brought me to the Embassy: the Soviets get their jollies from subjecting known American agents to bureaucratic harrassment.

After my interminable session with insulting civil servants and the infuriating immigration apparatus I was dour and irritable and, overriding everything else, hungry.

As we drove in I had a look at the Embassy and saw the smudges above the top-story windows where the fire had licked out and charred the stonework. I made a face.

I introduced myself at the desk and there was a flurrying of phoning and bootlicking. I was directed to the third floor and managed to persuade one of the secretaries to send down for a portable lunch. Predictably I was kept waiting in Dennis Sneden’s outer office and I ate the sandwiches there, after which — 20 minutes having passed — I stood up on the pretext of dropping the lunch debris in the blonde receptionist’s wastebasket. When she looked up, startled, I said, “Tell him he’s kept me cooling my heels long enough.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know you all resent my coming. But making me sore won’t help any of us. Punch up the intercom and tell him I’m coming in.” I strode past her desk to the door.

“Sir, you can’t —”

“Don’t worry, I know the way.”

* * *

SNEDEN WAS on the phone. He looked up at me, no visible break of expression on his pale features, and said into the mouthpiece, “Hang on a minute.” He covered it with his palm. “Sit down, Charlie, I’ll only be a minute.”

The blonde was behind me, possible trying to decide how to eject me by force. It would have been a neat feat in view of the fact that I outweighed her by two-and-a-half to one. After Sneden had addressed me with civility she changed her mind, made an apologetic gesture of exasperation to Sneden and withdrew.

He said into the phone, “Nothing we can do until we know more about it. Listen, Charlie Dark’s here, he just walked into the office. I’ll have to call you back — we should have an update later…. Right. Catch you.” He cradled it and tried to smile at me.

The chair was narrow; I had to perch. Through the high window I had a distant glimpse of the Kremlin’s crenelated onion towers.

Sneden looked pasty, his flat puffy face resembling the crust of a pie; I attributed the sickly look to chagrin over what had happened and fear for his job. I said, “I’m not necessarily here to embarrass you.”

“No?”

“The Security Executive — Myerson — wants a firsthand report. And I’m to lend a hand if it seems desirable.”

“Desirable to whom?”

“Me.”

“That’s what I thought.” He lit a cigarette. His fingers didn’t tremble visibly. “It was a freak.”

“Was it set? Arson?”

“We don’t know yet. It’s being investigated.”

“But there were Russian firemen inside the building.”

“Moscoe fire department. We had to. But not on the top floor.

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