Covert One 6 - The Moscow Vector by Robert Ludlum Read Free Book Online

The phrase he had used —”Fully urgent”—was a piece of voice code, a shorthand way for a field agent to report that he was in serious trouble. “But I can patch you through to the duty officer.”
    “The duty officer?” he repeated aloud. He nodded. “Yes, that would be fine.”
    “Very good. Wait one moment.”
    The phone went dead for a brief moment and then a familiar voice spoke in his ear. “Good morning, Jon.”
    Smith sat up straighter. “Good evening, sir.”
    The chief of Covert-One, Nathaniel Frederick Klein, chuckled drily.
    “You’re not usually so formal, Colonel. I assume that the walls around you have ears. Maggie told me you were in hot water of one sort or another.”
    Smith hid a smile. He was fairly sure that at least one hidden microphone was bus) recording his end of this conversation. Inspector Karasek was clearly suspicious of him. “I’m calling from a police station in Prague,” he said simply. “Three men tried to kill me yesterday afternoon. They did kill a colleague of mine, a Russian research scientist named Valentin Petrenko.”
    There was a short silence on the other end.
    “I see,” Klein said at length. “You were quite right to report in. This is serious. Extremely so. You had better brief me, Jon.”
    Smith obeyed, recounting the attack on the bridge. For the moment, he was careful to stay within the framework of the story he had already told the police. If they were listening in, it made sense not to give them any more reasons to interrogate him further. And Fred Klein was smart enough to fill in the obvious gaps for himself.
    “The men who attacked you were professionals,” Klein said flatly after Smith had finished. “A hit team, with training in close-quarters combat and small arms.”
    “No question about it,” Smith agreed.
    “Were they Russians?”
    Smith thought back, mentally replaying what he could remember of the long-haired man’s voice. Once the lead attacker had dropped the beggar act and started speaking English, there had been some kind of faint, underlying accent, but Jon was not sure now that he could pin it down. He shrugged.
    “Maybe. But I wouldn’t swear to it.”
    Klein was silent for another few moments. “And where did Dr. Petrenko work in Moscow?” he asked.
    “He was a disease specialist attached to the Central Clinical Hospital,”
    Smith told him. “A top-notch guy. One of the best in his field.”
    “The Central Clinical Hospital? That is interesting,” Klein mused. “Very interesting, indeed.”
    Smith raised an eyebrow. From his position in the shadows, Klein had un-hindered access to an incredible range of information and analysis. Were other U.S. or Western intelligence organizations already probing the disease outbreak in Moscow?
    “All in all, I would have to say that you have been extremely fortunate,” the older man continued. “By rights, you should be lying dead on that bridge.”
    “Yes, sir,” Smith agreed. “By the way, the police here share your assessment of the situation.”
    Klein snorted. “So I imagine that the Czech authorities have been asking awkward and inconvenient questions about just how you managed to survive this melee?”
    “You could say that,” Smith said wryly. “Add the words non grata to my persona and you’ll get a pretty clear picture of my current status. They’re shipping me out on the next available flight to London.”
    “Which is embarrassing, but not fatal. Either to your career or your cover,”
    Klein commented. “More to the point: Are you still at risk from these men?”
    Smith considered the question carefully. It was one he had been chewing on for most of the past night. Just how far would the agents who had murdered Petrenko go? Had eliminating the Russian scientist himself satisfied their orders or were they expected to silence anyone Petrenko had contacted? “It’s possible,” he admitted. “Not likely, maybe, but possible.”
    “Understood,” Klein said