The trouble with triumph is that you may be on the other side.

81.

Morrison was doing his best to keep his feelings under control. There was a natural elation. He was going to go home. He was going to be free. He was going to be safe. Much more than that, he would -

But he dared not think of that climactic bit as yet. Yuri Konev was fearfully intelligent and already suspicious. Morrison's thoughts, if Konev concentrated on them, might give themselves away in his facial expressions somehow.

-  Or were they just playing with him? That was the other side of the coin.

Were they planning to break his spirit and turn him to their own uses? It was an old trick, to raise hopes and then dash them - far worse than having no hope at all at any time.

Would Natalya Boranova do such a thing? She had not hesitated to take him forcibly when he would not come willingly. She had not hesitated to threaten to destroy his reputation forever to get him on the ship. How much farther would she go? Would she stop at nothing?

His heart bounded with a marked relief when Sophia Kaliinin appeared. Surely she would not be party to such a deception.

He believed that even more firmly when she smiled at him, looking happier than he had ever seen her. She took his hand and tucked it under her arm.

"You'll be going home now. I'm so glad for you," she said and Morrison could not make himself believe that those words - their intonation, her expression - were all part of a careful lie.

Nevertheless, he said cautiously, "I hope I'm going home."

And she said, "You are. - Have you ever been on a skimmer?"

For a moment, Morrison stumbled on the Russian word, then used a translated English phrase. "Do you mean an SPF - a solar-powered flyer?"

"This is a Soviet design. Much better. It has light engines. You can't always trust the sun."

"But why a skimmer, then?" They were moving briskly toward the passageway that would lead them out of the Grotto.

"Why not? We'll be at Malenkigrad in fifteen minutes and since you've never been in a Soviet skimmer, you'll love it. It will be one more way of celebrating your return."

"I'm a little nervous of heights. Will it be safe?"

"Absolutely. Besides, I couldn't resist. We're in a wonderful situation now and I don't know how much longer it will last. Whatever we want we getfor the moment. I said, 'A skimmer is what we will want,' and they smiled all over their faces and said, 'Why, certainly, Dr. Kaliinin. It will be waiting for you.' Day before yesterday, I would have had to fill out a proof-of-need form for a plate of borscht. Today I am a hero of the Soviet Union - unofficially, as yet. We all are. You, too, Albert."

"I hope I won't be expected to stay for the official ceremonies," said Morrison, still cautious.

"The official ceremonies will be confined to the Grotto, of course, and won't be elaborate at all. Your scroll will undoubtedly be forwarded to you. Perhaps our ambassador can give it to you in a quiet Washington ceremony."

"Not necessary," said Morrison. "I would appreciate the honor, but getting it in the mail is all I really want."

They had turned down a corridor that Morrison had not taken before and then walked long enough to make him wonder uneasily where they might be going. No need to have worried, Morrison thought as they emerged into a small airfield.

There was no mistaking the skimmer. It had long wings, glittering with a layer of photovoltaic cells along their entire upper surface, very much as American SPFs had. The American planes, however, relied on the solar panels entirely. The skimmer he saw had small rotors - gasoline-powered, no doubt - as assists. Kaliinin might present that as a Soviet improvement but Morrison suspected that the Soviet photovoltaic cells were not as efficient as the American ones.

A mechanic was standing near the skimmer and Kaliinin approached him with long, confident strides. "How does it test out?"

"Sweet as a dream," said the mechanic.

She smiled and nodded, but as he stepped away she muttered to Morrison, "I'll check it out anyway, of course. I've seen dreams that turned into nightmares."

Morrison studied the skimmer with a mixture of interest and apprehension. It looked like the skeleton of a plane, with everything somehow thinner and longer than it should be. The cockpit was tiny, like a soap bubble under the huge flap of wings and the long backward extension of a thin skeletal structure.

Kaliinin had to bend herself nearly double to climb in. Morrison watched her as she fiddled with the controls. Then, after what seemed a considerable lapse of time, she taxied it down the field, turned it, and came back. She raised the rotos and let them turn slowly and eventually everything was shut down and she got out.

"It's working nicely," she said. "The fuel supply is adequate and the sun is shining brilliantly. One couldn't ask for more."

Morrison nodded and looked around. "One could ask for the pilot. Where is he?"

Kaliinin froze at once. "Where is he? Is there some sexual requirement for the task? I pilot my own skimmer."

"You?" exclaimed Morrison quite automatically.

"Yes, I! Why not? I have my license and I qualify as a master pilot. Get in!"

"I'm sorry," stammered Morrison. "I - I rarely fly and piloting anything through the air is almost a mystical thing to me. I just assumed that a pilot didn't do anything but piloting and that if someone did anything else, he couldn't be a pilot. Do you know what I mean?"

"I'm not even going to try to figure it out, Albert. Get in."

Morrison climbed in, following her directions and doing his best not to damage his head on any portion of the skimmer - or, perhaps, damaging the skimmer.

He sat in his seat, staring in horror at the skimmer's open side to his right. "Isn't there a door to close?"

"Why do you want a closed door? It would spoil the wonderful feeling of flight. Strap yourself in and you'll be perfectly safe. - Here, I'll show you how. - Are you ready now?" She was in the seat beside him, looking quite confident and pleased with herself. They were crowded into contact and that much at least Morrison found rather soothing.

"I'm resigned," he said. "That's as close as I can get to ready."

"Don't be silly. You're going to love this. We'll use the motors to rise."

There was a high-pitched throb of the small engine and a rhythmic slap as the rotors began to spin. Slowly the skimmer rose and - as slowly - it turned. It canted to one side while turning and Morrison found himself leaning out over the open side and straining precariously against the strap that held him. He barely managed to fight off the strong impulse to throw his arms around Kaliinin for nothing more than utterly nonerotic security.

The skimmer straightened and Kaliinin said, "Now, listen," as she turned off the engine and threw in a switch labeled, in Cyrillic, SOLAR. The throb ceased and the rotors slackened as the forward propeller began to turn. The skimmer moved slowly and almost silently forward.

"Listen to the quiet," whispered Kaliinin. "It's like drifting on nothing."

Morrison looked down uneasily.

Kaliinin said, "We won't fall. Even if a cloud passed over the sun or if a circuit failure put the photovoltaic cells out of action, there is enough power in the storage components to bring us across kilometers, if necessary, to a safe landing. And if we ran out of power, the skimmer is more than half a glider and it would still settle down to a safe landing. I don't think I could force the craft into a crash even if I tried. The only real danger is a strong wind and there's none of that now."

Morrison swallowed and said, "It's a gentle motion."

"Of course. We're not going much faster than an automobile would go and the sensation is much pleasanter. I love it. Try to relax and look at the sky. There's nothing as peaceful as a skimmer."

He said, "How long have you been doing this?"

"When I was twenty-four, I got my master's license. So did Yu- so did he. Many a peaceful summer afternoon we spent in the air in a skimmer like this. Once we each had a racing skimmer and marked out lover's knots in the air." Her face twisted slightly as she said that and it occurred to Morrison that she had obtained a skimmer for the short hop to Malenkigrad only for the sake of a momentary reliving of memories and for no other reason.

"That must have been dangerous," he said.

"Not really - if you know what you're doing. Once we skimmed along the foothills of the Caucasus and that might have been dangerous. A wind squall can easily smash you into a hillside and that wouldn't be fun at all, but we were young and carefree. - Though I might have been better off if that had happened."

Her voice trailed away and for a moment her face darkened, but then an inner thought seemed to illuminate her into a smile.

Morrison felt his distrust mounting again. Why did the thought of Konev make her so happy, when she could not bear to look at him when they were together in the miniaturized ship?

Morrison said, "You don't seem to mind talking about him, Sophia." Then, deliberately, he used the forbidden word, "About Yuri, I mean. It even seems to make you happy. Why is that?"

And Kaliinin said between her teeth, "It's not sentimental memories that makes me happy, I assure you, Albert. Anger and frustration and - and heartbreak can make a person vicious. I want revenge and I am mean-spirited enough - well, human enough - to enjoy it when it comes."

"Revenge? I don't understand."

"It's simple enough, Albert. He deprived me of love and my daughter of a father when I had no way of striking back. That did not bother him as long as he had his dream of bringing miniaturization to practical low-energy fruition so that he might become, at a bound, the most famous scientist in the world - or in history."

"But he failed at that. We didn't get the necessary information from Shapirov's brain. You know we didn't."

"Ah, but you don't know him. He never gives up; he's driven by the Furies. I've seen him, fleetingly, looking at you, after the voyage through Shapirov's body was done. I know his looks, Albert. I can tell his thoughts even from the droop of an eyelid. He thinks you have the answer."

"Of what was in Shapirov's brain? I don't. How could I?"

"It doesn't matter whether you do or not, Albert. He thinks you do and he wants you and your device with a greater yearning than he ever wanted anything in his life; certainly more than he wanted me or his child. And I'm taking you away from him, Albert. With my own hands I am taking you out of the Grotto and will watch you leave for your own country. And I will see him sicken to death of frustrated ambition."

Morrison stared at her in astonishment as the skimmer moved along in response to her rock-steady hand at the controls. He had not thought that Kaliinin was capable of wearing an expression of such consuming and malignant joy.

82.

Boranova had listened to Konev's emotional and breathless account and felt herself carried along by the wave of his utter conviction. That had happened before, when he had been convinced that Shapirov's dying mind could be tapped and that Morrison, the American neurophysicist, was the key to doing that. She had been swept along then and she tried to resist it now.

She said finally, "That sounds quite mad."

Konev said, "What's the difference what it sounds like if it's true?"

"Ah, but is it true?"

"I am certain."

Boranova muttered, "We need Arkady here to tell us that his father assured him that vehemence was no guarantee of truth."

"Neither is it a guarantee of the reverse. If you accept what I say, you must also see that we can't let him go. Certainly not now and possibly not ever."

Boranova shook her head violently. "It's too late. There's nothing to be done. The United States wants him back and the government has agreed to let him go. The government can't very well backtrack now without bringing about a world crisis."

"Considering what is at stake, Natalya, we must surely risk it. The world crisis will not explode. There will be loud talk and much posturing for a month or two and then if we have what we want, we might let him go if absolutely necessary - or we might arrange an accident -"

Boranova rose to her feet angrily. "No! What you are suggesting is unthinkable. This is the twenty-first century, not the twentieth."

"Natalya, whatever century this is, we face the question of whether the Universe is to be ours - or theirs."

"You know you're not going to convince Moscow that that is what is at stake. The government has what it wants, a safe voyage into and out of a body. At the moment it's all they want. They never understood that we wanted to read Shapirov's mind. We never explained that."

"That was a mistake."

"Come, Yuri. Do you know how long it would have taken to persuade them that Albert would have to be taken forcibly if he did not come voluntarily? They would not have wanted to risk a crisis - even as much a crisis as they now face, which is a minor one indeed. You will now be asking them to face a much larger one. Not only will you fail but you will encourage them to look into the matter of the arrival of Albert here and I don't think we can afford that."

"The government is not all one piece. There are many high officials who are convinced that we are too eager to give in to the Americans, that we pay too high a price for the occasional pat on the head we receive. I have people to whom I have entry -"

"I have long known that you have. That's a dangerous game you play, Yuri. Better men than you have been caught up in that sort of intrigue and have come to deplorable ends."

"It's the chance I must take. In a case like this, I can turn the government around. But we must have Albert Morrison in our own hands if we're to do it. Once he's gone, it will be all over. - When is he supposed to be leaving?"

"Nightfall. Sophia and I agreed that, for the sake of avoiding obtrusiveness and of needlessly provoking those who tend to be against accommodation with the Americans, night is better than day."

He stared at her, eyes opening widely enough so that they almost seemed protuberant. "Sophia?" he said harshly. "What's she got to do with it?"

"She's in charge of the details of returning Albert. She requested it."

"She requested it?"

"Yes. I imagine she wished to be with him for an additional while." With a touch of spite, she added, "Perhaps you didn't notice it, but she rather likes the American."

Konev sneered in disgust. "Not a bit of it. I know that devil. I know her if I know anything at all - every thought in her head. She's getting him away from me. Sitting right next to him in the ship, watching his every move, she must have guessed his importance and she means to deprive me of him. She won't wait for nightfall. She'll hurry him off at once."

He rose and left the room at a run.

"Yuri," Boranova called after him. "Yuri, what do you intend to do?"

"Stop her," floated back the answer.

She gazed after him thoughtfully. She could stop him. She had the authority. She had the means. And yet - What if he was right? What if what was at stake was indeed nothing less than the Universe? If she stopped him, everything - everything - might be handed over to the Americans. If she let him go, there might be a crisis of an intensity that hadn't been dreamed of in generations.

She had to come to a decision at once.

She began again.

If she stopped him, she would have done something. If he then turned out to have been right, the blame for having stopped him and having lost the Universe would rest squarely on her. If he turned out to be wrong after being stopped - her action would be forgotten. There is nothing dramatic about a mistake that is not made.

If she did nothing to stop him, however, then all was on Konev's head. If he somehow prevented Morrison's return to the United States and if the government were then humiliatingly forced to release him, it would be Konev who would be blamed. Boranova would lose nothing, for he had dashed off without telling her what he was going to do and she could reasonably claim she had not dreamed he would try to subvert the known intention of the government. She would be in the clear. If, on the other hand, he prevented Morrison's return and proved to be right and the government won the battle of wills that followed, she could claim the credit of having done nothing to stop him. She could say that it had been with her permission that he had worked.

Well, then, if she stopped him, the worst was blame, the best was neutral. If she did nothing, the best was credit, the worst was neutral.

So Boranova did nothing.

83.

Morrison decided that Kaliinin was right. As the minutes passed, he grew less uncomfortable in the skimmer and even began to experience a feeble pleasure.

He could see the ground clearly through the open latticework that made up the chassis of the craft. It was about thirty meters below (he judged) and moving smoothly backward.

Kaliinin sat at the controls, completely absorbed, though it didn't seem to Morrison that she had much to do. Presumably, it was skill and patient observation that made it possible for her to keep the skimmer on track without minute-by-minute adjustment.

He said, "What happens if you find yourself moving into a headwind, Sophia?"

She said without taking her eyes from the controls, "Then I would have to use the engine and waste fuel. If it were a fresh wind, it wouldn't pay to use a skimmer at all. Fortunately, today is ideal skimmer weather."

Morrison began to feel something that was almost well-being for the first time since having left the United States - no, since a considerable length of time before that. He began to picture himself back in the United States; it was the first time he had dared to do so.

He asked, "What happens after we reach the hotel in Malenkigrad?"

"Car to an airport," said Kaliinin crisply, "and then you'll board a plane to America."

"When?"

"Tonight, according to schedule. I'll try to get it done more quickly."

Morrison said with what was almost joviality, "Anxious to get rid of me?"

And to his surprise, the answer came back at once. "Yes. Exactly."

He studied her face in profile. The look of studied hatred had long since vanished, but there was a settled anxiety about her expression that caused Morrison to quiver. The picture of himself back in the United States began to fade around the edges.

He said, "Is anything wrong, Sophia?"

"No, nothing wrong now. It's just that I expect that - he will come after us. The wolf is in pursuit, so I must get you away quickly if I can."

84.

The city of Malenkigrad lay below them, although it was not exactly a city. Small in name, it was small in fact and it raveled off in all directions into the flat countryside.

It was the bedroom community for the people working on the miniaturization project and during the day - now - it seemed all but deserted. There was a moving vehicle here and there, occasionally a pedestrian, and, of course, children playing in the dusty streets.

It occurred to Morrison that he had no way of knowing where, in the mighty stretch of land that made up the Soviet Union, Malenkigrad and the Grotto might be. It wasn't in the birch forest or in the tundra. The early summer was warm and the ground looked semiarid. He might be in central Asia or in the steppes near the European side of the Caspian. He could not say.

The skimmer was dropping now, more gently than an elevator. Morrison would not have believed that so soothing a descent could be possible. Then the wheels touched the ground and they braked to a nearly instant halt. They were in the rear of the hotel, a hotel the small size of which he could appreciate when it was seen from the air.

Kaliinin left the skimmer with a lively jump and motioned to Morrison, who emerged more sedately.

He said, "What happens to the skimmer now?"

She answered carelessly, "I'll pick it up on my return and take it back to the Grotto field if the weather holds. Come, let's go around to the front and I'll get you into your room, where you can rest a little and where we can plan the next step."

"The room with the soldiers watching me, you mean."

She said impatiently, "There'll be no soldiers watching you. We're not afraid of your trying to escape now." Then, with a quick glance around, she added, "Though I'd rather have the soldiers, actually."

Morrison looked about, too, a bit anxiously and decided he'd rather not have the soldiers. It occurred to him that if Konev came to reclaim him, as Kaliinin clearly feared he might do, he might easily come with soldiers at his back.

And then Morrison thought: Or is this really something to fear? She has a thing about Yuri. She'll believe anything of him.

The thought did not quiet him, however.

Morrison had not seen the hotel in broad daylight from outside; he had not had the leisure to study it in any case. It occurred to him that it was probably used only by visiting officials and special guests - such as he himself, if he could lay claim to the category. He wondered if, small as it was, it was ever full. Certainly, the two nights he had spent here had been quiet indeed. He recalled no noise in the corridors and the dining room, when he had eaten there, had been all but empty, too.

It was at the moment he thought of the dining room that they approached the front entrance and there, to one side, sitting in the sun and poring over a book, was a stoutish woman with reddish-brown hair. She was wearing half-spectacles, perched low on her nose. (Morrison was surprised at that bit of archaism. It was rare to see glasses in these days when eye-molding was routine and normal vision had truly become normal.)

It was the glasses and the studious look on her face that changed her appearance so that Morrison might easily not have recognized her. He would not have, perhaps, if he had not just thought of the dining room. The woman was the waitress to whom he had appealed for help three evenings before and who had failed him - Valeri Paleron.

He said austerely, "Good morning, Comrade Paleron." His voice was stiff and his expression unfriendly.

She did not seem discomfited by this. She looked up, removed her glasses, and said, "Ah, Comrade American. You are back safe and sound. Congratulations."

"For what?"

"It is the talk of the town. There has been an experiment that was a great success."

Kaliinin, her face like thunder, said sharply, "That should not be the talk of the town. We need no wagging tongues."

"What wagging tongues?" said the waitress with spirit. "Who here does not work at the Grotto or have a relative there? Why should we not know of it and why should we not speak of it? And can I fail to hear? Must I stop my ears? I cannot carry a tray and put my fingers in my ears, too."

She turned to Morrison. "I hear that you did very well and are greatly praised for it."

Morrison shrugged.

"And this man," the waitress said, turning to the frowning and increasingly impatient Kaliinin, "wished to leave before he had the chance to participate in the great deed. He turned to me for help in his scheme to leave - to me, a waitress. I reported him at once, of course, and that made him unhappy. Even now, see how he glares at me." She wagged her finger at him. "But consider the favor I did you. Had I not prevented you from doing whatever it was they were trying to have you do, you would not now be the great success you are, the toast of Malenkigrad and perhaps even of Moscow. And the little Tsaritsa here surely loves you for it."

Kaliinin said, "If you do not stop this impudence immediately, I shall report you to the authorities."

"Go ahead," said Paleron, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows lifting. "I do my work, I am a good citizen, and I have done nothing wrong. What can you report? - And there is a fancy car here for you, too."

"I saw no fancy car," said Kaliinin.

"It is not in the parking lot, but on the other side of the hotel."

"What makes you think it is for me?"

"You are the only important persons to approach the hotel. For whom, then, should it be? For the porter? For the desk clerk?"

"Come, Albert," said Kaliinin. "We are wasting our time." She brushed past the waitress, doing this so closely that she stepped on her foot - perhaps not by accident. Morrison followed meekly.

"I hate that woman," muttered Kaffinin as they walked up the flight of stairs to Morrison's second-floor room.

"Do you think that she is an observer of this place on behalf of the Central Coordinating Committee?" asked Morrison.

"Who knows? But there is something wrong with her. She is possessed by a devil of impudence. She does not know her place."

"Her place? Are there class distinctions, then, in the Soviet Union?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Albert. There are supposedly none in the United States, either, but you have them surely. And so do we. I know what the theory is, but no person can live by theory alone. If Arkady's father didn't say that, he should have."

They walked up one flight of stairs to what had been Morrison's room earlier in the week and apparently still was. Morrison viewed it with mild distaste. It was a room without charm, though the sunlight made it seem less gloomy than he remembered it to be and, of course, the prospect of returning home was enough to add glitter to anything.

Kaliinin sat in the better of the two armchairs in the room, her legs crossed, the upper leg swinging in short arcs. Morrison sat down on the side of the bed and watched her legs thoughtfully. He had never had good occasion to admire his own calmness under pressure and it seemed to him rather unusual to watch someone be more nervous than he himself was.

He said, "You seem greatly troubled, Sophia. What is wrong?"

She said, "I told you. That woman Paleron troubles me."

"She can't upset you that much. What's wrong?"

"I don't like waiting. The days are long now. It will be nine hours until sunset."

"It's amazing that it's only a matter of hours. The diplomatic maneuvering could have continued for months." He said so lightly enough, but the thought gave him a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Not in a case like this. I've seen it work before, Albert. The Swedes are involved. It's not an American plane that's coming. Having an American plane land deep in Soviet territory is still something our government shies away from. But the Swedes - Well, they serve as an intermediary between the two nations by common consent and they tend to work hard to defuse any possibility of friction."

"In the United States, we consider Sweden lukewarm toward us at the best. I think we'd prefer to have Great Britain -"

"Oh come, you might as well say Texas. As it is, Sweden may be lukewarm toward you, but she is considerably less than that toward us. In any case, it's Sweden and their principle always is that if it is necessary to defuse a situation, it is best to defuse it swiftly."

"It seems quite swift to me. Certainly, I'm the one who should be in the greater hurry, since it is I who am most anxious to leave. Why should a few hours matter to you?"

"I've told you. He is after us." She ground out the pronoun.

"Yuri? What can he do? If your government is giving me up -"

"There are elements in the government who might easily not wish to give you up and our - friend - knows some of these well."

Morrison raised a finger to his lips and looked around.

Kaliinin said, "Are you worried about being bugged? That's another American spy novel myth. Bugs are so easily detected these days and so easily scrambled - I carry a small detector myself and I've never spotted one."

Morrison shrugged. "Then say what you wish."

"Our friend is not a political extremist himself, but he finds he can use those in high office who are. There are extremists in America, too, I suppose. "

"Those who think our policy toward the Soviet Union is too mild?" Morrison nodded. "I've met a few."

"Well, then, there you are. His ambition consumes him and if extremism will advance his plans, then he is prepared to be an extremist."

"Surely you don't think he can arrange some sort of coup in Moscow and put the diehards in control and do it all in time to stop me from leaving for home this evening?"

"You've got it the wrong way around, Albert. If he could somehow prevent you from leaving and precipitate a crisis, he may be able to persuade some in the government to stand firm and delay your leaving for a long time. He can be very persuasive, our friend, when he is in the full grip of his mania. He can sway even Natalya."

Kaliinin fell into a silence and bit at her lower lip. Finally she looked up and said, "He hasn't given up on you and he won't. I'm sure of it. I've got to get you away."

She rose suddenly and paced up and down the room with short, quick steps, looking as though she were trying to force the Universe into turning her way. She stopped in front of the door, listened, then jerked it open suddenly.

Valeri Paleron, her bland expression shifting rapidly into surprise, had one fist raised, as though she were about to knock.

"What do you want?" said Kaliinin tightly.

"I?" said the waitress. "I want nothing. It is a question of whether you do. I have come to ask if you would like some tea."

"We have not asked for any."

"I did not say you have. I come out of courtesy."

"Then go out of courtesy. And do not return."

Paleron, reddening, looked from Kaliinin to Morrison and said between her teeth, "Perhaps I interrupt a tender moment."

"Leave!" said Kaliinin. She closed the door, waited long enough to count to ten in a deliberate manner (her lips moving soundlessly), and then flung it open again. No one was there.

She closed the door and locked it, walked to the opposite end of the room, and said in a low voice, "She had been out there, probably, for quite some time. I heard feet shuffling."

Morrison said, "If high-tech bugging is pass‚, then I suppose there is a premium on old-fashion eavesdropping."

"Ah, but for whom?"

"Do you suppose she does it for Yuri? It doesn't seem likely that he would have the money to hire spies - or does he?"

"It might not take much money. A woman like that might do it for pleasure."

There was silence for a moment and then Morrison said, "If it's possible that you're beset by spies, Sophia, why not come to America with me?"

"What?" She seemed not to have heard him.

"You might be in trouble for getting me out, you know."

"Why? I have official papers that will place you on the plane. I am under orders."

"That might not save you if a scapegoat is needed. Why not just get on the plane with me, Sophia, and come to America?"

"Just like that? What would happen to my child?"

"We'll send for her afterward."

"We'll send for her? What are you suggesting?"

Morrison flushed slightly. "I'm not sure. We can be friends, certainly. You'll need friends in a new country."

"But it can't happen, Albert. I appreciate your kindness and concern - or pity - but it can't happen."

"Yes, it can. This is the twenty-first century, not the twentieth, Sophia. People may move about freely anywhere in the world."

"Dear Albert," said Kaliinin, "you do tend to live in theory. Yes, people can move about, but every nation has its exceptions. The Soviet Union will not allow a highly trained scientist with experience in miniaturization-related fields to leave the country. Think about it and you'll see that that's reasonable. If I do accompany you, there will be an immediate Soviet protest, a sure claim that I have been kidnapped, and there will be a loud howl from all corners of the world that I be sent back in order to avoid a crisis. Sweden will act as quickly for me as she has for you."

"But in my case, I was kidnapped."

"There'll be many who will believe I was - or who might prefer to believe it - and I will be sent back by the United States, as you are being sent back by the Soviet Union. We've papered over, in this fashion, dozens of crises over the last six decades or so - and isn't that better than war?"

"If you say, firmly and frequently, that you want to stay in the United States -"

"Then I never see my child again and my life may be at risk, too. Besides, I don't want to go to the United States."

Morrison looked surprised.

Kaliinin said, "Do you find that hard to believe? Do you want to stay in the Soviet Union?"

"Of course not. My country -" He stopped.

She said, "Exactly. You talk endlessly about humanity, about the importance of a global view, but if we scrape you down to your emotions, it's your country. I have a country also, a language, a literature, a culture, a way of life. I don't want to give it up."

Morrison sighed. "As you say, Sophia."

Sophia said, "But I cannot endure it here in this room any longer, Albert. There's no use waiting. Let us get into the car and I'll drive you to where the Swedish plane is waiting."

"It probably won't be there."

"Then we'll wait at the airport, rather than here, and we'll at least be certain that as soon as it arrives you can board it. I want to see you safely gone, Albert, and I want to see his face afterward."

She was out the room and clattering down the stairs. He followed hastily. He was, in truth, not sorry to be going.

They strode along a carpeted corridor and through a door that led directly out to the side of the hotel.

There, pulled up close to the wall, was a highly polished black limousine.

Morrison, a little breathless, said, "They're certainly supplying us with deluxe transportation. Can you drive that thing?"

"Like a dream," said Kaliinin, smiling - and then came to a full and sudden halt, her smile forgotten.

Around the corner of the hotel stepped Konev. He, too, halted and for long moments they did not stir, either of them - as though they were a pair of Gorgons, each of whom had frozen into stone at the glance of the other.

85.

Morrison was the first to speak. He said a little huskily, "Have you come to see me off, Yuri? If so, good-bye. I'm leaving."

The phrases sounded false in his own ears and his heart was pounding.

Yuri's eyes shifted just enough to glance quickly at Morrison and then moved back to their original position.

Morrison said, "Come, Sophia."

He might as well have said nothing. When she spoke - finally - it was to Konev. "What do you want?" she demanded harshly.

"The American," said Konev in a tone no softer than hers.

"I'm taking him away."

"Don't. We need him. He has deceived us." Konev's voice was becoming quieter.

"So you say," said Kabinin. "I have my orders. I am to take him to a plane and see that he gets in. You cannot have him."

"It's not I who must have him. It's the nation."

"Tell me. Go on and tell me. Say that Holy Mother Russia needs him and I'll laugh in your face."

"I'll say no such thing. The Soviet Union needs him."

"You care only for yourself. Step out of my way."

Konev moved between the two others and the limo. "No. You don't understand the importance of his staying here. Believe me. My report has already gone to Moscow."

"I'm sure and I can guess to whom it's going, too. But old gruff-and-grumble won't be able to do anything. He's a blowhard and we all know that. He won't dare say a word in the Presidium and if he does, Albert will be long gone."

"No. He's not going."

Morrison said, "I'll take care of him, Sophia. You open the limo door." He felt himself trembling slightly. Konev was not a large man, but he looked wiry and he was clearly determined. Morrison did not believe himself to be a successful gladiator under any conditions and he certainly didn't feel like one now.

Kaliinin lifted her hand, palm turned toward Morrison. "Stay where you are, Albert." She then said to Konev, "How do you intend to stop me. Do you have a gun?"

Konev looked surprised. "No. Of course not. Carrying a hand weapon is illegal."

"Indeed? But I have one." She drew it from her jacket pocket, a small thing almost enclosed in her fist, its small muzzle gleaming as it edged through the space between her first and second fingers.

Konev backed away, eyes widening. "That's a stunner."

"Of course. Worse than a gun, isn't it? I thought you might interfere, so I'm prepared."

"That's also illegal."

"Then report me and I'll plead the need to fulfill my orders against your criminal interference. I will probably get a commendation."

"You won't. Sophia -" He took a step toward her.

She took a step back. "No closer. I'm ready to shoot and I might do so even if you stand where you are. Just keep in mind what a stunner does. It scrambles your brain. Isn't that what you once told me? You'll be unconscious and you'll wake up with partial amnesia and it may take you hours to recover or even days. I've even heard that some people never quite recover. Imagine if your magnificent brain should not quite regain its fine edge."

"Sophia," he said again.

She said, through almost closed lips, "Why do you use my name? The last time I heard you use it, you said, 'Sophia, we will never speak again, never look at each other again.' You are now speaking to me, looking at me. Go away and keep your promise, you miserable -" (She used a Russian word that Morrison didn't understand.)

Konev, white to his lips, said a third time, "Sophia - Listen to me. Believe that every word I have ever said is a lie, but listen to me now. That American is a deadly threat to the Soviet Union. If you love your country -"

"I'm tired of loving. What has it gotten me?"

"And what has it gotten me?" whispered Konev.

"You love yourself," said Kaliinin bitterly.

"No! You kept saying that, but it's not so. If I have some regard for myself now, it is because only I can save our country."

"You believe that?" said Kaliinin, wondering. "You really believe that? - You are mad to do so."

"Not at all. I know my own worth. I couldn't let anything deter me - not even you. For the sake of our country and my work, I had to give you up. I had to give up my child. I had to tear myself in two and throw the better half of myself away."

"Your child?" Kaliinin said. "Are you claiming responsibility?"

Konev's head bent. "How else could I drive you away? How else could I be sure I would work unimpeded? - I love you. I have always loved you. I have known all along it was my child and that it could be no one else's."

"Do you want Albert so much?" Her stunner did not waver. "Are you willing to say that it is your child - say you love me - believe I will, for that, give you Albert - and then deny it all again? How low an opinion you must have of my intelligence."

Konev shook his head. "How can I convince you? - Well, if I deliberately threw it all away, I can't expect to get it back again, can I? Will you, in that case, give me the American for the sake of our nation and then throw me away? Would you let me explain the need for him?"

"I wouldn't believe the explanation." Kaliinin threw a quick glance in Morrison's direction. "Do you hear this man, Albert?" she said. "You don't know with what cruelty he cast my daughter and me aside. Now he expects me to believe that he loved me all along."

And Morrison heard himself say, "That much is true, Sophia. He loves you and he has always loved you - desperately."

Kaliinin froze for a moment. Her free left hand gestured at Morrison while her eyes remained fixed on Konev. "How do you know that, Albert? Did he lie to you, too?"

But Konev shouted in excitement, "He knows. He admits it. Don't you see? He sensed it with his computer. If you now let me explain, you will believe everything."

Kaliinin said, "Is this true, then, Albert? Do you confirm Yuri?"

And Morrison, too late, clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes gave him away.

Konev said, "My love has been unwavering, Sophia. As much as you have suffered, so much have I. But give me the American and there will be no more of it. I will no longer ask that I be spared any chance of hindrance. I will do my work and have you and the child, too, whatever the cost may be - and may I be cursed if I don't manage both."

Kaliinin stared at Konev, her eyes suddenly swimming in tears. "I want to believe you," she whispered.

"Then believe. The American has told you."

As though she were sleepwalking, she moved toward Konev, holding the stunner out to him.

Morrison shouted, "Your orders - to the plane!" He rushed wildly at them.

But as he did so, he collided heavily with another body. Arms were around him, holding him closely, and a voice in his ear said, "Take it easy, Comrade American. Do not attack two good Soviet citizens."

It was Valeri Paleron, who held him in a strong and unbreakable grip.

Kaliinin clung as closely to Konev, though with different effect, the stunner still gripped loosely in her right hand.

Paleron said, "Academician, Doctor, we could become conspicuous here. Let us go back to the American's room. Come, Comrade American, and come quietly or I will be compelled to hurt you."

Konev, catching Morrison's eye, smiled tightly in absolute triumph. He had it all - his woman, his child, and his American - and Morrison saw his dream of returning to America pop like a soap bubble and vanish.