Topaz - Leon Uris [60]
“This one?”
“Alternate plans in the event airfields in the former British Zone become inoperative.”
“This one?”
“It’s a fake.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It deals with Swedish air cooperation with NATO. Our sources inside Sweden tell us there is no deal between Sweden and NATO.”
“Who are your sources?”
“I don’t know. I believe it is a Swedish officer, probably of staff rank.”
“What makes you think so?”
“A rendezvous in Moscow kept by one of our generals. A General Samov, Fyodor Samov. His real name is Pyotr Pavlovich Rogatkin. He had a lot of dealing with the Swedes. My opinion is that he had highly placed contacts in Sweden.”
“This document?”
“Placement of Polaris submarines in Soviet waters and the Baltic. Let me see ... this, this, and this is correct. Paragraph F is a fake.”
“How did NATO documents come into your hands?”
“From the Soviet Resident in Paris.”
“Who is he?”
“Gorin.”
“How were they transmitted?”
“Through normal channels. Almost any NATO document we requested was in our hands in Moscow within a week.”
“Who was turning them over to Gorin?”
“I’ll discuss that matter when Devereaux returns.”
Nordstrom cut the session short. Boris detected a sense of urgency as he was returned to his quarters.
Jaffe of the French ININ desk was asked to remain with Nordstrom and Sanderson Hooper after the others had departed.
“We’ve made a significant breakthrough as of yesterday,” Nordstrom said to Jaffe. “We’ve narrowed the NATO documents that Kuznetov turned over to us down to six common readers. Three of them belong to other countries, and we’ve got them under watch. The other three are Frenchmen.”
“Who?”
“Colonel Galande in Air Planning.”
Jaffe nodded in recognition.
“Two civilians. Guillon, Technical Adviser in the office of the Chief of Staff.”
“Know him slightly. He’d be a surprise.”
“Jarré, NATO economist.”
Jaffe toyed with his massive mustache. “Colonel Galande, Guillon, and Jarré,” he mused.
“We’re nervous about going to French SDECE with this,” Hooper said.
“You’ve got reason to be,” Jaffe agreed.
“There’s no way we can put a watch on Frenchmen ourselves,” Michael said.
“Léon Roux, Chief of the Department of Internal Protection of the French Sûreté,” Jaffe said. “The interior police are a different cup of tea. Roux has always played ball with us and, frankly, he’s not too fond of much of the crowd at SDECE.”
“Fly to Paris tonight. Talk to Roux and try to get him to put these three suspects under watch and do an investigation of their backgrounds ... and keep the goddamn thing quiet.”
“Roux will buy that.”
Sanderson Hooper emitted a long, sorrowful breath. “I wonder what Kuznetov is finally going to come up with.”
“We’ll know pretty soon. Devereaux is due back in Miami.”
“If he gets back,” Mike said.
Jaffe got up from the table, thinking ahead of packing, catching the ININ plane at Andrews, working out his schedule to hit Paris and see Roux right away. “Hoop, Mike, put a big circle around Jarré’s name.”
“Why?”
“Just my thoughts at the moment.”
31
THE LIMOUSINE OF THE French Embassy stopped before the Rancho Boyeros Airport terminal. Ambassador Alain Adam walked in with Devereaux to the KLM counter, the sole scene of activity.
“What the devil do you have in this valise?” Alain asked of the bag that Juanita de Córdoba had given André.
“Just the mail. Hold onto it while I check in.”
André feigned indifference as he spotted the man with an ill fitting KLM jacket working behind the ticket agent. He was Cuban G-2 and might as well have been wearing a sign.
André set his suitcases on the scale and observed the scene of the ticket agent fingering down the passenger list, then turning to the G-2 man behind him.
“Those two bags,” the G-2 man said.
“I’ll carry them aboard.”
“They are too large.”
“I’m a diplomat.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t intend for them to leave my possession.”
“Put them on the scale.”
“No.”
“There have been bomb scares. All luggage will be weighed and inspected.”
“Sorry.”
The G-2 man stared. André yawned, bored. “Check him in,” the G-2 man finally