Leon Uris Read Free

It is not secret you are in Copenhagen. You always eat at Wivex or Langelinie near the Little Mermaid. You like Danish seafood. It is not hard to find out. Today I checked your reservation at Wivex and so I ate at Seven Nations just over the square.”
    “You said you carried documents.”
    “Yes. They are hidden in Copenhagen. I will tell you where they are when we make our agreement.”
    “All right, Kuznetov. I’m impressed. We’ll get back to you in twenty-four hours.”
    “No!”
    “What do you mean?”
    The Russian’s breath quickened. Fright, real or played, was in him. “I am afraid now to return to my embassy. We must do it right away ... today, and my wife and daughter must come with me.”
    Kuznetov studied the skeptical American eyes. They all glowered in suspicion at the man who called himself Kuznetov, watched him fidget and breathe deeply over and over. The clock from the city hall tolled the hour, massively.
    “How long can you stay out now?” Mike Nordstrom asked.
    “A few more hours.”
    “Get back to your wife and daughter, then go shopping or do the Tivoli for a few hours. I’m going to make a try at putting it together. Do you know Den Permanente?”
    “Yes. The building that houses the permanent exhibits of Danish arts and crafts.”
    “It closes at five-thirty. Be there at the counter at the silversmith, Hans Hansen. It’s near the main door. Now, take a good look at these three gentlemen. One of them will be standing by to lead you to a waiting car.”
    “You must not fail!”
    “There’s a fifty-fifty chance we can do it.”
    “My guards ...”
    “We’ll handle them.”
    The Russian called Kuznetov walked slowly to Michael Nordstrom and held out his knobby hand. Nordstrom shook it, haltingly. And then Boris Kuznetov walked to a seat, sank into it, held his face in his hands and sobbed.

3
    N ORDSTROM DISPATCHED S TEBNER AND another deputy to tail the Russian, then sped back to the embassy with the rest of his people, locking the ININ offices behind them.
    TOP SECRET EYES ONLY TO SAILBOAT 606. CONTACT MADE COPENHAGEN WITH BORIS KUZNETOV. CLAIMS TO BE KGB DIVISION CHIEF. DESIRES TO DEFECT WITH FAMILY. PLANS UNDER WAY. I WILL TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY. NEED GREEN LIGHT IMMEDIATELY OR NO GO. OSCAR 612.
    Coats off, ties open, sleeves rolled, Michael Nordstrom and his men plunged into formulating a quick but foolproof plan. They set into motion the obtaining of cars without diplomatic plates, finding a hideaway on the northern coast, getting a light plane on stand-by and flying Nordstrom’s own plane out of Denmark to a German airfield. Individual assignments were passed out and rehashed. The minutes ticked off too quickly, and as the hour neared five o’clock, ashtrays brimmed and the tension rose to fever pitch.
    The phone rang.
    “Mr. Hendricks’ office. Miss Cooke speaking.”
    “Cookie, this is Stebner. Boss there?”
    She handed the phone to Michael. “Nordstrom.”
    “Stebner. Do we go?”
    “No word back from Washington yet. If I don’t hear in ten minutes, we cancel. What’s your picture?”
    “He just entered Den Permanente with his wife and daughter. We’ve spotted four guards working in two pairs.”
    “Did the guards go inside the building?”
    “They sure did.”
    “Beautiful. I’m sending a half-dozen of the fellows down now. Stake them out around the entrance. If we get a cable to go, watch for Bartlett driving a blue, 1960 four-door Ford sedan with German plates. You make the hookup with Kuznetov and get in with him.”
    “Got it.”
    Nordstrom set the phone down and sent the men off to cover the Den Permanente entrance. He and Miss Cooke waited alone in the office. They both lit cigarettes. He paced. She tapped her long-nailed fingers on the desk. All around Copenhagen, bells rang out the hour of five.
    “I guess we’re out of business,” Nordstrom mumbled.
    Sid Hendricks tore in from the code room and set the cable before his boss.
    TOP SECRET TO