Page 76 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

“These Special Forces soldiers are a breed apart. I look forward to reading the psychological profiles of those in Siberia.”

“We understand this man was a SEAL.”

“Like our maritime Spetsnaz?”

“Precisely.”

“I did not realize their SEALs were working in Laos.”

“It appears he is assigned to MACV-SOG as a maritime subject matter expert.”

“See what else you can find out about him.”

“Yes, Director.”

“The fact remains that Hanoi vacated the camp before the raid, which proves the value of our networks.”

“The raid almost succeeded,” Penkovsky noted.

“An illegal raid, outside what we know they call operational boxes, which limit where they can operate in Laos. Quite unusual.”

“It was only averted due to our asset’s initiative. Had an air support request not come to the attention of MACV in Saigon, Sergeant Voronin may very well have been captured.”

“He would die first.”

“Director, the fact that a FOB commander authorized an illegal raid into Laos tells us that they know Saigon is compromised.”

“And the fact that our asset still has access to top-secret briefings at MACV tells us that regardless of their suspicions, our agent-in-place retains his cover.”

“For now,” Penkovsky acknowledged.

“And, perhaps for the duration of the conflict.”

“We were also fortunate that Major Dvornikov was in Hanoi and not in Bangkok, where I understand he has been spending an inordinate amount of time.”

“That is where he meets with an asset who cannot travel to Hanoi,” said Lavrinenko.

“He endangers the mission. He should be in Hanoi.”

“I remind you that his plan is working, Comrade.”

“I am concerned that Dvornikov’s excursions to Thailand are putting us at risk.”

“He now travels with Sergeant Voronin.”

“The major is our one direct link to our assets in Saigon.”

“I will have the Rezidentura in Bangkok put additional men on him when he is in Thailand. He will not even know they are there.”

“Good. We are at a major turning point, Director. If our analysis is correct, the Americans will lose more men this year than in any other year of the conflict. Riots are destroying their cities. Their civic leaders and politicians are being assassinated.”

“All while we are poised to invade Czechoslovakia,” the director said, almost to himself.

“It is not just in America, Director. The riots and strikes just last month in France captured headlines around the world. Students from Nanterre and the Sorbonne inspired by Marx almost toppled the Fifth Republic. Even though de Gaulle has reasserted control, his reign is coming to an end. The world is changing in our favor.”

“Be that as it may, we will soon be in a position to evaluate the intelligence of the American war criminals undergoing interrogation and reeducation in Siberia.”

“It is a significant risk, Director. Those risks outweigh the rewards. If the intelligence gleaned does not produce quantifiable results, I recommend we shut the program down.”

“Give it time, Comrade,” Lavrinenko said, studying his heir apparent. “Does this program make you nervous?”

“I am ill at ease. It is different from holding Gary Powers, a pilot who violated our airspace. These are illegal extraditions.”

“You worry too much.”

“If you take over the KGB, these worries will become mine alone.”

“We can discuss transferring the POW project to the KGB when I transition over. We do not need to decide tonight. What you do need to decide is your entrée.” Lavrinenko waved the waiter over.

“Order another drink and relish the notion that the Americans in Siberia are having a much more unpleasant night than we are.”

As Penkovsky exited onto the street in the cool summer evening, he looked for burly, thick men in dark suits waiting to throw him into the trunk of a car, but they did not materialize.

He thought about acquiring cyanide that would kill him before he was taken to the basement of the Lubyanka.

He knew the GRU special services department had cyanide capsules embedded into the filters of cigarettes and others that could be implanted in false molars, though walking around with death hidden in a fake tooth seemed too risky.

Penkovsky would make inquiries of special services.

The deputy director had not told the CIA everything.

This game had to be played slowly, deliberately.

Perhaps one day he would trade his most valuable secrets for freedom.

Could he damage his country enough that she would fall?

If so, would he stay and rebuild? No, his mission would be accomplished, and it would be time for a new life.

Where would he go? Perhaps New York. It was home to the Metropolitan Opera after all.

Then he would be trading one cold winter for another.

What about the San Francisco Opera? It was on par with New York. How cold were San Francisco winters?

The deputy director walked down to the street and ducked into his waiting car, its door held open by his driver.

Penkovsky would return to his home and prepare a sheet of harp music for the CIA.

He would keep some secrets close to his chest to facilitate his escape when the time came.

For now, it was important to prove his value both to Lavrinenko to secure his position as the next director of the GRU, and to the Americans so they would go to any lengths to extract him for a windfall of intelligence information that could turn the tide of the Cold War.

Should he pass along that there were American servicemen being held in captivity in Siberia? Did that information have the potential to start World War Three?

Penkovsky thought about the potential fallout all the way to his flat, trying his best not to hold his breath as his GRU-supplied vehicle sped past the Lubyanka.