Triple Trap by Hallahan William H.;

Author:Hallahan, William H.;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2019-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Tolenko sat in the chair in Revin’s office in Cologne, one fat leg cocked over the other, the roll of fat at the back of his neck making him thrust his pugnacious head forward as he talked. He was so angry, he said everything in an indiscreetly loud voice.

“The committee says you must not miss,” Tolenko boomed.

Revin waved a hand at Tolenko to signal him to lower his voice—his words could carry down the corridor and into who knows whose ears. But Tolenko took no notice.

“This must be a flawless piece of work,” Tolenko went on.

“I understand,” Revin said in a low voice. Almost a whisper.

But the fool still did not get the message. He boomed out another ukase. “The committee doesn’t want this traceable back to the Directorate or to the Soviet Union. They don’t want to start a game of reprisals with the Americans. So they want this to look like a death unrelated to the intelligence world or to Russia.” He shook his head scornfully at his own words. “Reprisals, bah!”

Sitting in that chair far inside Germany, Tolenko the hammer, who had no fear of the Americans and their reprisals, in a voice loud enough to be heard back in Moscow was telling the committee what he thought. He was being forced to deliver this absurd message to Revin. No reprisals. Absurd. Absurd. Absurd.

“Brewer,” Tolenko said. “I would like to untwist his head.” His two huge hands untwisted air.

But after two failures Tolenko was obviously being superseded by Bronowski, who was much more prudent. Cautious. Timid, even. And Bronowski did what he always did with a hot potato. He threw it—this time to Cologne and Revin.

No reprisals. Revin wondered why the committee didn’t think of that before they let this human battering ram send those two animals from the Bosphorus to Washington and then order that inept bomb attempt in Paris that killed Matters, the British journalist.

After a few more shouted orders, the angry Tolenko strode down the hall to the elevator, his bulk threatening to split the seams in his badly cut and wrinkled suit.

Revin watched with dismay as the man left. He had never handled an assassination before.

Yes, he had been involved in several—as a hand-off man, or occasionally a deliverer of messages. As he had been with the two from the Bosphorus. But he had never been assigned the job of finding a killer and aiming him at a target. Brewer would be his first direct murder.

Revin considered his assignment. The committee had said, Here, clean up this Tolenko mess. Kill Brewer. Kill him now. Don’t miss. And make it look like someone else did it.

But this Brewer was not only a particularly dangerous target; with Tolenko’s two botched attempts, Brewer was also now fully on the alert—and that was going to make him infinitely more difficult to kill.

Revin drew the palms of his hands down the sides of his face in agitation. Obviously the first thing he had to do was find a killer.

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