Free Assault on the Empress by Jerry Ahern Page B

same patrol car for the last three years. That’s why they gave Ernie and Mike—”
    â€œMike is the dead man?”
    â€œYes. That’s … that’s why they gave Mike and Ernie the cocaine to take to Eleventh Street. Because they knew they could be trusted. It was a lot.”
    â€œI understand it was, Mrs. Hayes,” Hughes told her. “Do you have any idea where Lewis is?”
    â€œHe’s out trying to help Ernie and us, that’s all I know.”
    â€œAll right. If you hear from Lewis, Mrs. Hayes, tell him I called and tell him I’m flying in this afternoon and I made reservations at the same hotel he’s staying at. I’ll try to help as much as possible. I’ll call you from the airport. Will you be at home, Mrs. Hayes?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen I’ll call and perhaps by that time you’ll know where I can link up with Lewis. And don’t worry. Good-bye.” He hung up. Why had he told her not to worry? He started stripping off his sweatsuit as he walked toward the stairs….

    Thomas Alyard had his story straight if anyone asked. He’d been driving and his Fiat had developed engine trouble, which was why he was walking along the beach toward Brindisi. The reason wasn’t anything near the truth, but he wasn’t about to tell a casual inquirer or an Italian policeman that he had just a short while ago left a fishing boat that had smuggled him out of Communist Albania with a vial of the latest in bacteriological warfare developments in his pocket.
    He had given the fisherman the fourth diamond, as he didn’t anticipate having to cut more glass. Back in Italy, his credit cards would get him farther than an unset diamond anyway. There was an airport and he could call in, then fly from there to Rome, even if it meant chartering an aircraft. He wanted the thing in his pocket gone into someone else’s hands. That it hadn’t been more difficult getting out of Albania meant only one thing to him: The KGB was taking this personally, which meant that sooner or later, David Stakowski would be caught and forced to talk and then the KGB would be after him. They would, of course, already be looking for the Swiss businessman, Thomas Rheinhold, but Rheinhold had ceased to exist as soon as the smuggler’s fishing boat had gotten into Italian territorial waters, the passport going over the side along with all the other identification except the driver’s license and American Express card.
    Alyard had a story for that one too. He was an Italian citizen—he could fake the language well enough and excuse the accent by saying he had spent much of his time abroad—and why would an Italian citizen need a passport in his own country? A little outrage could do wonders.
    He kept walking….

    The sun was strong and the wind was bitingly cold here along the beach. He had been looking out to sea while the other man had been talking with his subordinates. And now that the subordinates had been dismissed, the man was talking to him. The Albanian secret policeman was becoming pronouncedly annoying. Finally, Vols looked him square in the eye and said, “It should be sufficient for a loyal Communist to know that this Thomas Alyard or Thomas Rheinhold is an enemy of the state. Information such as you ask me for is on a need-to-know basis, as you well know. You have no need to know. It is enough that he is an enemy agent and that he is wanted for questioning in Moscow. Now. Who would have taken him across and where would he have been dropped, since your people obviously have lost him?”
    The Albanian glared at him. “If we had been told earlier, Comrade Major, of this man’s importance, he would not have slipped through our security net.”
    â€œ ‘Net’ is a very good term for it, Captain. A net has holes in it, just like your security. I told you he was a fleeing enemy agent. That was all you needed to