The Miernik Dossier by Charles McCarry Page B

Tanner (0127 hours) is consistent with the Soviet practice of meeting not on the hour, half hour, or quarter hour, but at an odd-numbered time. The site of the meeting with Tanner, in the middle of the largest bridge in Vienna at a time when pedestrian traffic is minimal, demonstrates good professional judgment. Kirnov used public transportation exclusively while in Vienna; he made no effort to shake surveillance until the night of his meeting with Tanner, when he changed buses, trains, and taxis several times in following an indirect route to his destination. We have no reason to believe that Kirnov was aware of our surveillance. His eluding tactic is interpreted as a routine precaution on his part.
38.  R EPORT BY C HRISTOPHER.
    I have already given the essentials of the Zofia Miernik operation in my verbal report. In the following narrative I’ll begin at the beginning and end at the end in the hope of filling in details that may be useful in case anyone else ever wants to do the one-day tour of Bratislava.
    Kalash had no difficulty getting a Czech visa. One of his uncles is ambassador to Austria. “My Uncle Embarak sent some little chap hopping over to see the Czechs with my passport, Kalash explained. “Everything is laid on at the frontier. While you crouch in the secret compartment, your air supply slowly running out, wishing desperately for a lavatory, I shall be sweeping through the customs, decadent jazz playing on my radio. Uncle has given me some pennants for the front wings of the car. All will be well.”
    When on the morning of the sixteenth we went downstairs, the Cadillac was waiting, washed and shined by the servants at Kalash’s embassy. Two pennants were attached to the fenders—the flag of Sudan and another one I didn’t recognize. “That is a small replica of the battle flag of the Mahdi,” Kalash explained. “My great-grandfather, as I may have mentioned to you, led the charge of savages who wiped out Hicks Pasha at Kashgil in 1883.I believe he castrated the senior Englishman with his own sword, which was by that time very dull after hacking at the whites and their tame Egyptians all day. Uncle Embarak has explained the significance of the pennant to the Czechs, so I expect to be cheered at the frontier as the descendant of a very effective anti-imperialist.”
    Upstairs, there had been an emotional scene as we prepared to leave. Miernik came into our room while we dressed and sat on an unmade bed, watching in silence. As we started to leave, he shook hands with Kalash, who then went downstairs to supervise the loading of a picnic hamper he had ordered from the hotel kitchen. As the door closed behind Kalash, Miernik rose and flung himself across the room at me. With his good arm he embraced me, and he planted a kiss on my cheek. Then he stood back, with his hand on my shoulder, and looked into my face. Behind his glasses his eyes were filled with tears. “My friend,” he said huskily, “I await your return.” He walked briskly out of the room, like a man hurrying off a train platform after saying good-bye to a brother he knows he will never see again.
    Kalash and I started off in the Cadillac at about nine o’clock. By ten we were on the outskirts of the city and well on the way to the border. As soon as we were on the right highway, I turned over the wheel to Kalash, who doesn’t like to drive in cities. We rolled over the country along the Donau, making better time than I expected. I didn’t want to approach the frontier much before two o’clock, since my appointment with Zofia was at 3:40 and I did not want to spend several hours wandering around Bratislava. We found a side road and followed it, looking for a place to stop and waste some time. Kalash did not take very kindly to the delay. He wanted to see Czechoslovakia, turn around, and get back to Vienna in time to catch the early evening shift of prostitutes. “After six o’clock they are no longer fresh,” Kalash said. “You