The Miernik Dossier - Charles McCarry [96]
83. REPORT BY CHRISTOPHER.
15 July. If anyone but Kalash had come to me with the information that he had lost Miernik in the mountains on an archaeological expedition I would have reached for my revolver. In Kalash’s case, it was perfectly believable. “Miernik has been rooting in my father’s library ever since he arrived,” Kalash told me, “looking for a link between our family and the old sultans of west Sudan. He will not be convinced that we came from Arabia. One indulges these fantasies in scholars. I thought he’d like to see the ruins; there are some rather dim pictures on the old walls. As I was going right by on my way to see someone I offered to drop him off. I could not have been more astonished when he vanished.”
I immediately assumed that Miernik had taken advantage of Kalash’s expedition in order to make contact with the ALF. When Kalash told me that his meeting was with his half brother Qemal, I no longer had any doubt that Miernik had slipped away to take command of the guerrillas. In a way, it was amusing that Miernik had in the end outwitted me through such a simple device. While I slept the morning away, he got in a Land Rover and rode innocently away, making no attempt at concealment because he had equipped himself with one final perfect cover story. The ancient kings of Darfur. It was a pretty operation.
No doubt I could have accepted his disappearance as the proof we’ve wanted that he is the Soviets’ principal agent to the ALF. But a mixture of duty and pride (mostly pride) made me think that I had to follow him to make absolutely certain. I was curious to know what change would come over him once he was freed of his cover personality and acting as head terrorist.
I did not imagine that Miernik would have been so careless as to leave any clues behind him, but I searched his room anyway. His clothes were all neatly hung and folded; there was nothing in the pockets. I felt the linings of his suitcases and looked for hidden compartments; it seemed possible that Miernik would use such devices. Finally, in a locked valise, I found three oblong metal boxes filled with file cards. These were covered with Miernik’s large handwriting, in green ink and in Polish. There was nothing else. The small briefcase that Miernik always carries with him was missing. I took the card files to my own room and told my boy to let no one touch them in my absence.
Kalash agreed to let me have a Land Rover. He wanted to send along a couple of his father’s men as protection, but I refused. Later I had cause to regret this: I could have used a couple of strong natives for some of the work that lay ahead. I thought the best protection I could have was Zofia Miernik. If there was anything genuine about her brother, it was his blundering love for Zofia. I didn’t plan to use her as a human shield as I shot my way out of the camp of the ALF, but I did believe that Miernik would control his men if she was present. Also, I didn’t want her disappearing while I was wandering around looking for Miernik. She agreed to come without hesitation. Her agitation over Miernik’s disappearance seemed genuine.
After I left Zofia I went outside to load the Land Rover. Kalash was already on hand, and with him was Aly Qasim. They gave me a marked map and a walkie-talkie, and we agreed on a radio routine that would permit them to keep track of my movements as long as I didn’t get out of radio range. Qasim was very direct. “I assume,” he said, “that we have a mutual friend in Harrison Burbank.* He is a splendid chap. I will mention to Harrison what you are doing when I speak to him today. He will have a natural interest in the activities of an American citizen. I will tell you now what