|
|
|
|
|
|
diac's outboard. The watch on the Trudeau's bridge was unlikely to challenge. The Zodiac had made several trips to the platform since the briefing. One more would not attract attention. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
From inside her parka Marina took a slender, silenced Colt Woodsman. She ejected the magazine and inspected the bullets. Twenty-two long rifle bullets, express loaded, with hollow points. Silent, powerful for a light gun, and deadly at close range. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A last quick glance at her watch: 2:40 now. Ample time. The Canadian Hercules on which she and the others had come was departing with all "unessential personnel" at six o'clock. Organization, Marina thought. The cardinal virtue. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The murmuring Zodiac reached the platform and she heard the exchange between Karmann and the boatman, Karmann telling the sailor that he would signal across when and if he needed to be picked up and returned to shore. Then Karmann climbed onto the deck alone. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Marina was wholly concentrated on her task now. Piotr Kondratiev had told her all about Arkady Karmann, a man who claimed to be Russian, but who was really a German and a dirty Jew at that. It stung her pride that she had failed so signally to kill him the first time. It was Karmann's fault that she was here, damn him, she thought angrily. It was his fault that she was not in Moscow, safe in her own bed, ready to enjoy the fruits of Piotr Kondratiev's triumph and ascension to power. She cradled the assassin's weapon to her breast and waited as the Zodiac pulled away, heading back to shore. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
When Karmann seemed to hesitate for a moment, she moved forward out of the shadows to catch his eye. "Arkady Karmann," she called out in a low voice, speaking in Russian. "Over here. I am waiting for you." She gripped the Colt as thought it were a part of a lover. "I have something speciala surprise for you, countryman.'' |
|
|
|
|
|