Czechmate: The Spy Who Played Jazz by Bill Moody

Author:Bill Moody [Moody, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B007RQRWOM
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 2012-04-03T18:30:00+00:00

Eleven

Gene stood motionless in the clearing, gazing into the woods, allowing Lena a moment to translate the letter. The sun had burst through the clouds with splinters of light, but the smell of rain hung heavily in the air.

He stole a glance at Lena seated on the tree stump, head bent, coat collar up around her neck. God, she was beautiful. He felt like an intruder, an unwilling witness to some private ritual he had no right to be a part of. Yet, he was as much if not more concerned with the letter than Lena. He paced around the clearing, smoking nervously, trying to contain his impatience.

The legacy of Josef Blaha. Had he died for it or because of it? Gene’s thoughts, focused now on his own survival and escape, told him it didn’t matter. The secret, whatever it was, would be his deliverance. From Curtis, the CIA, the lies and deceptions, the bizarre nightmare of the past few days that he knew would haunt him forever.

It would all be so easy now. Wrap it up neatly and turn it all over to Curtis. Let him deliver it to his analysts and Gene could go back to being what he was—a musician.

He stamped out his cigarette in the wet ground and turned again toward Lena. It was important to her too. There was something in her eyes. Sadness, but something more. Fear? She looked up at him, caught his eyes on her, letting the letter go limp in her hand, then held it up to him. He took it from her and examined it. Probably done with a music pen, noting the bold script, the heavy black strokes. When had Blaha written it? Late at night in his office? In a park somewhere in Prague?

Gene handed it back to Lena. “What does it say, Lena? I have to know.”

She hesitated. Her eyes were still moist, her face a mix of sadness and resignation. She made one futile attempt to dissuade him. “It’s too late, Gene. Let it go.”

“Let it go?” He kneeled in front of her and gripped her arms. “Your grandfather died because of this, Lena. He wanted someone to know…to do something. This will finish it. This is all Curtis wants.” His eyes searched hers for confirmation. “It is something important, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s…yes, but it won’t finish anything.” Her voice trembled slightly as she took the letter and began to read.

“Dearest Lena,” she began. “You know the work I’ve been doing is for a good cause. I’ve hated it, but I hate even more what is being done, what will be done to all of us. Perhaps, in some small way I’ve helped. Recently, I’ve discovered something that frightens even me, something too dangerous to keep to myself any longer. It is now impossible for me to continue.

“Dubcek has been betrayed. The meetings with the Russians in Cierna and Bratislava mean nothing. There will be an invasion and Dubcek must be warned about Indra. He is a traitor and behind it all.

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