Текст книги "Snow Wolf"

Автор книги: Glenn Meade

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

He didn't know whether Massey was telling the truth. There could be more than two men out there and they could be anywhere, but there was only one way to find out.

He cocked the Tokarev, lay flat on his stomach and crawled out of the door. Moments later he was slithering across the freezing stone-flagged courtyard until he reached the woodshed.

He waited for any movement or sound and when none came he stood and unlocked the driver's door and inserted the key in the ignition, then left the door ajar.

He was about to move forward when he heard a faint click from behind him and a voice said in Russian, "Drop the weapon and keep your hands in the air. Then turn around slowly."

He dropped the Tokarev and it clattered to the ground. He turned and saw a young man standing in the shadows ten feet away.

The man stepped out. He was heavily built and held a pistol in his hand. He grinned. "I'll say this for you, you move pretty silently, but not silently enough. Where's my American friend?"

"Back in the house."

"Dead?"

"Very much alive, I'm afraid." Stanski nodded back toward the garden. "There were supposed to be two of you. Where's your comrade?"

"You'll soon find out. Turn around and move toward the house. I warn you not to try anything, I'm an excellent shot.' "Whatever you say. Except there's something you forgot."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"This."

The silenced Na gant came up and spat once. The man had no chance. The single shot hit him square in the bridge of the nose and he fell back against the car and slid to the ground.

Stanski crouched and waited at the ready for a reaction to the silenced gunshot, and when none came he retrieved the Tokarev, then dragged the body to the back of the woodshed.

The second Ukrainian crouched in the bushes in the front garden and cocked his ears. He had definitely heard something. What, he wasn't sure.

Voices? Or the wind in the trees? He shifted his bulk and raised himself slightly. He laid the Kalashnikov beside him on the ground and rubbed his legs to get the circulation going.

What the fuck was going on? The American should have come out by now.

He checked his watch.

The luminous hands read a quarter to midnight. He'd give it another couple of minutes, then he'd move toward the house.

In the meantime, anyone who came out of the door was dead, no question.

Odd, but the situation gave him a strange sense of exhilaration. It was just like the old days, stalking Red partisans in the Caucasus. All that was missing was his SS uniform and a decent German MP40 machine-pistol.

He smiled, picked up his weapon, squatted again, and waited.

"Turn on the flashlight."

Irena flicked it on – and Stanski stood there looking down at Massey. "Looks like maybe you were right about the numbers, Jake. But now you're one down. Tell me about the man out front.

When Massey didn't reply, Stanski put the Tokarev to his head. "Tell me, or I might be tempted,"

"His name's Boris Koval. A former Ukrainian SS captain."

"is he good?"

Massey nodded.

"How good?"

"One of the best we trained. Not that he needed much training. He was good before we started."

"Weapons?" Massey fell silent. Stanski said, "Either you can tell me, or I shove You out the front door and we learn the hard way."

"A Kalashnikov."

Stanski gave a low whistle. "Then I guess we're in trouble."

He turned to Irena and Anna. "We're going out the back way.

Massey too. When I give the word you pile into the back of the car and keep your heads down. Leave the rest to me."

As Anna stood, Massey looked up at her. Their eyes met for a moment and he saw the look on her– face, all trust between them destroyed.

He went to speak, to explain, but already she was gone, moving toward the door, lrena walking shakily behind her-.

Then Stanski dragged Massey to his feet and pushed him after them.

Pasha checked the street map as Lukin drove.

Lukin said, "How much farther?"

"Take the next left and we're there."

"You said that a minute ago."

"These streets all look the fucking same in the snow."

Lukin swung right and they entered a long, wide, tree-lined road with dachas on either side. He halted at the junction where the two roads met. The homes looked dark and deserted.

Pasha grabbed a machine-pistol from the back seat and laid it ready on his lap.

"So what's the drill?"

Lukin doused the lights. Only the moon on the snow ahead provided light, and the road looked eerily quiet.

"I wish I knew."

"Damn it, Yuri ... Romulka will be here in no time!"

"I need to talk to Stanski."

"Then I hope he listens, because if not you're dead."

"I'm going in alone. I want you to wait outside."

"What are you going to do? Knock on the door and say you've come by for a visit'? Stanski's going to blow your head off as quick as look at you. There has to be another way."

"There isn't time to think of one."

Suddenly in the rearview mirror Lukin saw a blaze of headlights sweep into view behind them at the far end of the road.

Pasha looked back and said, "The bastards are here already looks like we've got the right place."

Lukin watched the headlights moving toward them and said, "You think you could hold them off a little longer?" :"You mean fire on Romulka?"

"In the darkness they're not going to know what the hell's going on or who's shooting. Just blow the tires, that'll slow them, then meet me at the dacha."

:"Presuming you're still alive. OK, let's do it."

"Be careful," Lukin said.

Pasha slipped from the car and disappeared around the corner clutching the machine-pistol.

The Frenchman, Lebel, still lay slumped on the back seat.

Lukin slipped into gear and swung the BMW into the street. He counted off the numbers as he drove, and then he saw the dacha.

The lights were out. He drove on another fifty meters to the next dacha on the same side of the street. The place looked deserted, the driveway empty, all the lights out and the windows shuttered for the winter. He slowed, then backed up quickly into the driveway. As he went to step out of the car Lebel moaned and seemed to come to drowsily, then his head listed to one side and he was gone again.

Lukin unlocked the Frenchman's handcuffs and shackled one to the grip on the back door and stepped out of the car.

What exactly he was going to do he still didn't know. But whatever it was he had to do it fast. Any second now Romulka would come tearing around the corner and Pasha would start firing. If Stanski was inside he'd hear the shooting and that wasn't going to help.

The file Pasha had stolen was tucked into Lukin's tunic.

He lifted the flap on his holster, released the safety on his Pistol, but left the weapon in the holster. He didn't intend to use it but he wasn't taking a chance.

He went around quickly to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk. He fumbled among the tools and the spare wheel until he found an oily rag. The remnant of a white shirt, it was covered in grease and oil stains. He found the jack and tied the white rag on the end.

It was a crude flag of peace but it would have to do for what he had in mind. It was ridiculous when he thought of it. He was going to knock on the front door, call out to Stanski and hope he got a cooperative response. It was risky, inviting almost certain death, but he could think of nothing else to do.

He moved quickly, closing the trunk again.

Suddenly he heard a blaze of gunfire followed by a screech Of tires from the far end of the street.

The noise seemed to fill the air and a split second later came another volley of shots, and then the night seemed to explode with chattering weapons.

Pasha had opened up on Romulka's convoy and by the sound of it Romulka and his men were firing back.

Sweat Pumping from every pore, Lukin swore and ran toward the dacha.

The Ukrainian smelled trouble. He didn't like it. Didn't like it one little bit.

It had been half an hour since the American had left and there was still no sign of him.

What was going on? Was he dead? Or still stalking his quarry inside the house?

The Ukrainian was a man of infinite patience and could have waited in the freezing garden all night, but this time he was reacting to instinct.

And instinct told him there was trouble.

Moments ago a car had driven up on the street outside. He had tensed, every muscle in his body suddenly alert and ready for action. He peered into the street through the bushes and saw a German BMW drive slowly past, snow-chains crunching over the packed surface.

Odd that, a BMW. Its dark paintwork gleamed in the watery moonlight. A beautiful car. He couldn't make out the driver's face but the figure was definitely looking toward the dacha, and there looked to be another figure in the back.

What the fuck was going on?

He had readied himself to fire but the car had driven on past. He heard the vehicle turn into a driveway farther on and the engine die. He waited, heard a car door opening, then another, the sounds loud in the darkness, but heard nothing more.

The dachas were all deserted and he guessed only used on weekends. Perhaps one of the owners had decided to drive out of Moscow and spend the night? Maybe the man had a woman with him in the back of the car? He had barely glimpsed the figure in the back and he wasn't sure if it was a woman.

Fuck.

He listened further for any sound, heard nothing, then got to his feet silently.

Perhaps he ought to check it out'? But whatever way you looked at it, he shouldn't stick around waiting. He cocked the Kalashnikov and started to move out of the shadows.

As he did so he heard a crackle of gunfire explode down the street. He froze.

At the kitchen door, Stanski peered out into the moonlit back garden.

Behind him Anna and Irena waited expectantly. Massey was out in front, his hands still tied, and Stanski had the gun pressed into the base of his skull.

"You first, Massey," he whispered, and turned to the others. "We're going to move to the car. Keep it quiet and remember what I told you."

He pushed Massey out into the flagstoned courtyard. He crouched, half expecting gunfire, but when none came they moved hurriedly across to the woodshed and the Skoda.

He opened the rear door and pushed Massey quickly inside, then Anna slid in beside him.

. lrena was already in the passenger seat, and as Stanski jumped into the driver's seat beside her he said, "So far so good."

He rolled down the driver's window quietly and then his fingers found the ignition key and he tensed. He shifted into first gear, but kept his foot firmly down on the clutch. He hesitated, and stared out toward the driveway and the snowcovered street beyond it.

It looked empty, no traffic in sight.

The distance was about thirty meters and he could clear it in seconds if he could get quickly up to speed.

He turned the ignition key.

The engine spluttered and died and Stanski's heart sank.

But at that exact moment all hell seemed to break loose.

A crackle of gunfire erupted like fireworks from somewhere off in the darkness, followed by the screech of tires and brakes.

Everyone in the Skoda tensed and Stanski went deathly still. "What the hell ... ?"

There was another burst of gunfire from far away. Stanski turned the ignition key again and this time the engine exploded into life.

He flicked a switch and the headlights flooded the driveway. At the Same time he eased off the clutch, hit the accelerator, and the Skoda shot forward and tore down the path.

As Lukin approached the dacha he tensed.

Blood pumped furiously through his veins as the sound of gunfire still raged in the distance. He had the white rag in his hand, and as he jogged toward the driveway he caught sight of a figure moving out of the bushes at the front of the garden.

A big man, ruggedly built. He had a Kalashnikov in his hands and was moving toward the front of the dacha.

Lukin froze.

The man was partly in shadow and he couldn't make out if it was Stanski.

Before he could react an engine suddenly burst into life and two powerful beams of light illuminated the driveway. Lukin stood there totally confused. The man with the Kalashnikov seemed to freeze too, but then a car roared out of the darkness and down the driveway, headlights blazing.

Lukin stood stunned as the man in the garden.spun around and fired off a rapid burst as the Skoda shot past.

Lukin flung himself down as the weapon chattered, and he heard the sound of lead rip into metal as a volley of fire answered from the driver's window.

The Skoda shot onto the street and the man with the Kalashnikov ran after it, firing wildly.

Windows shattered as the car skewed and slid on the snow, then it suddenly righted itself and swung left out into the middle of the street.

As it swung, a rear door burst open with the sudden force of the turn and a figure came hurtling out onto the snow and rolled across the street.

Lukin watched in disbelief as the man with the Kalashnikov kept firing at the Skoda, and then suddenly he caught a glimpse of Stanski at the steering wheel.

The man with the Kalashnikov had emptied his magazine and he tore another from his pocket and hastily reloaded and cocked the weapon.

Lukin wrenched out his pistol just as the man turned, horror on his face when he saw Lukin.

As he went to raise the Kalashnikov, Lukin got off two shots, hitting him in the chest and neck and punching him back into the snow.

He ran out into the street and saw the Skoda's taillights disappear, racing over the snow.

"NO ... ! " he roared.

There was a groan of pain from behind, and when he turned back Lukin saw the figure from the car writhing in the snow. He was wounded in the chest and his face was twisted in agony. Then he saw that his hands were tied behind his back.

"Jesus ... help me ..."

The man spoke in English.

For several moments Lukin stood there in total confusion, then suddenly he heard shouts and saw a knot of men come down the street, flashlights in their hands as they moved toward him at a trot.

Romulka led the way, his pistol out. "Halt! Stay where you are! "

Where the hell was Pasha?

Lukin turned back frantically and saw that the taillights of the Skoda had vanished. He knelt and gripped the wounded man by the collar and dragged him back to the BMW.

After ten seconds Lukin was almost out of breath. A volle of shots rang out, kicking up Puffs Of snow in front of him. Y He glanced back. Romulka and his men were less than fifty meters away.

"Halt! Do you hear me? Halt!"

Lukin kept going, the man's weight like lead. When he reached the driveway, he flung open the passenger door of the BMW and lifted the man inside, into the driver's ' seat, turned the ignition key and the engine roared.

As he reversed out onto the street two men ran up, firing Pistols at the car.

Lukin heard shots puncture metal and glass and the rear window shattered.

As Lukin glanced back, Massey suddenly became conscious and Lukin heard a moan and a voice saying drowsily, Where am I ... ?"

"Keep down!"

He didn't wait to see if Lebel had obeyed. He shifted fran tically into gear as he ducked his head, hit the accelerator and the car roared forward.

Bullets cracked into the chassis as he raced down the street.

The last thing Lukin glimpsed in the rearview mirror was Romulka running after him in the middle Of the street, firing wildly, his face twisted in rage.

Lukin sweated as he drove.

He had kept the headlights off in case he caught up with the Skoda, but the road was unlit and he found it difficult to keep the BMW straight.

Every now and then he got too close to the curb and the front wheel hit the right side of the road and He had to wrench the steering wheel over.

What he had done was crazy, but he knew he had to follow Stanski. All he saw up ahead now though was night and empty White streets.

The Skoda had a head start of maybe only a minute, but the, BMW was faster, so it couldn't get far ahead. Besides, Lukin could just make out the single set of tire marks in the virgin snow and knew it had to be the Skoda.

He came to a fork in the road. He saw tire marks leading left and followed them, picking up as much speed in the darkness as he dared.

What had happened to Pasha? Lukin guessed that once the firing became too intense he had tried to double back to the dacha.

Unless Romulka had killed him? At that thought Lukin sank into despair. But then he knew Pasha. He was headstrong but he had the native cunning of his Mongol blood. Lukin guessed-hoped-the man would somehow find his way out of it.

The Frenchman was conscious now in the back, the drug wearing off. The shooting had obviously startled him awake. When Lebel finally saw the wounded man in the front seat he suddenly seemed to come alive, a bewildered look on his face as he spoke.

Lukin didn't know what the word meant or if it was French or English. The man beside him was barely conscious. His head was slumped on his chest and he was gurgling and coughing up blood. The Frenchman leaned over shakily and felt the passenger's pulse and said in confusion, "What's going on? For God's sake, can't you see he's dying!"

There was something in his tone and action that suggested Lebel knew the man. The car bumped as it hit the curb, then Lukin righted it again and kept following the tracks in the snow. The man in the passenger seat groaned and his head rolled to the right.

Lukin said urgently, "You know him?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?" Lukin demanded.

Lebel looked at him, perplexed. "Who are you? How did I get here?"

"Major Lukin, KGB. I released you from the Lubyanka."

Confusion filled the Frenchman's face and he fell silent. Lukin guessed that he was still too disoriented from the morphine to recognize him from the hotel. And the Frenchman looked to be in considerable pain. Before Lukin could speak again he suddenly noticed the red taillights of a car a hundred meters ahead and his heart skipped. He had almost reached the Moscow River and a bridge ahead led across to Novodevichy. When the car in front trundled over the bridge and the taillights kept straight on, Lukin realized the vehicle was headed toward the old convent.

It had to be Stanski.

The marks in the snow were the only ones Lukin had seen all the way from the dacha. Stanski was obviously desperate and had nowhere else to run. The deserted convent would offer brief cover.

Lukin slowed and Peered beyond the windshield. Just then he saw the beginning of the convent walls on the left-hand side of the road. He felt his heart thumping against his ribs as he saw the car slow and then turn left toward the convent entrance. He had kept a safe distance behind and still had the headlights off, and he guessed the occupants of the car hadn't noticed him. But even from a distance he thought the car was a light colored Skoda.

As he came toward the left turn, Lukin increased his speed, looked and saw the Skoda halted outside the convent entrance, fifty meters away. He glimpsed the shattered rear window and sighed with relief. A hundred meters farther on, he doused the headlights, swung the BMW back around facing the convent, then eased on the brakes and switched off the engine. As he sat there he could just make out a figure moving into the arched entrance. Moments later the figure returned, climbed back into the driver's side, and the Skoda drove in through the archway and disappeared.

Lukin waited, then started the car again and drove closer to the convent. Fifty meters from the entrance he Switched off the engine and let the BMW coast silently to a halt just outside the archway– He saw the gate inside was open.

The man in the passenger seat groaned again.

The Frenchman said, "He's dying. For God's sake do something, quick!"

"Listen to me, Lebel, and listen well. I mean you no harm.

If you do as I say, you go free. Do you want to go free?"

Lebel stared back in disbelief. "Would someone kindly tell me what the hell's going on? I've been abducted and spent two days in a stinking cell, had one of my balls half crushed by a deranged maniac who said I'd never see sunlight again. And "Jake ... flicked on the lights, and drove straight on past. He turned to now you're asking me if I want to go free, like it's all been some terrible mistake?"

Lukin handed over the key to the handcuffs. "Here, release yourself."

The gesture seemed to amaze the Frenchman and he quickly unlocked the cuffs. Lukin asked, "Who's your frien&?"

Lebel hesitated, then said, "An American. His name's Jake Massey. If you want to know more, ask your friend Romulka.

"Time for explanations later. And Romulka's no friend. If I hadn't taken you from the cellars he would have had worse in store for you, I can assure you. But right now I want you to deliver a message to the convent."

There was a puzzled look on Lebel's pained face. "I don't understand."

"Your friends from the dacha just drove in there. There's a man named Stanski with them. Tell him I want to talk. Tell him that it's important and I mean him no harm."

Lukin saw the confusion on the Frenchman's face.

"He'll doubt you, Lebel, but assure him this is no trick. Here, I want you to give him this." He removed the file from his tunic and handed it over. "Tell him to read what's inside carefully. Tell him Major Yuri Lukin has discovered the reason why he was chosen to find the Wolf. When he's read it I need to talk.

Lebel frowned uncertainly.

Lukin said, "Please, trust me and do as I ask. I haven't been followed and I mean none of you any harm. Assure Stanski of that. Take my gun if you don't believe me."

He removed the Tokarev from his holster and handed it to Lebel. When the Frenchman didn't take the weapon, he grabbed his hand and forced the gun into his palm and closed his fingers around it. "Take it. Can you drive?"

Lebel looked bewildered. He nodded. Lukin said, "Take my car and drive into the convent. Tell Stanski I'll be waiting by the river. Take your friend with you. The others may be able to help him."

He climbed out of the car and helped Lebel out of the back and into the driver's seat, the Frenchman wincing in pain. "Take it easy," he groaned. Lukin stuffed the Tokarev and the file into Lebel's pockets. "Do you think you can manage it?"

"Mon ami, so long as I don't have to return to the Lubyanka, I'll manage anything."

"How do you feel?"

Lebel grunted. "Like someone's set fire to my right testicle." Lukin found the white rag in the car and rolled down the driver's window. "Take this. Keep waving it as you go inside."

The Frenchman looked alarmed. "You think there'll be shooting?"

"For your sake I hope not."

"I think it's time to get out of the Moscow fur business.

Move somewhere safer and More peaceful, like Hell's Kitchen, New York. Wish me luck."

"Go, please. Quickly. And remember what I told you."

Lebel drove unsteadily toward the convent gate. As Lukin watched him disappear into the dark courtyard beyond he heard the distant sound of a clock strike half past midnight.

He walked on down to the river. The lace was deserted, the frozen water silver in the pale moonlight. He found a bench and sat. He removed the cigarette case from his pocket, lit one with a shaking hand, and waited.

Massey became conscious again as he sat in the car.

A draft of icy cold rushed in through the open window and stung his face. Then shock waves of pain flooded his entire body. He moaned 'in agony and tasted blood on his lips. His lungs and chest felt as if they were in flames, but his brow felt cold as ice. He coughed up blood and it spewed onto his coat.

He thought: God, I'm dying.

A voice said, "Take it easy, Jake. We're almost there, you goddamned son-of-a-bitch. Don't die on me now."

Massey was faintly aware Of a silver light at the end of an alcove, an open trellis gate and a courtyard with gardens be yond. The car drove through very slowly and finally came to a halt and the engine died. And then the man beside him was waving something and shouting. "I've got a wounded man here, for Christ's sake! Give me some help!"

The voice rang around the courtyard walls.

In the freezing silence that followed the moments seemed like hours. Then Massey heard another voice, distant, too distant to hear clearly.

Then the voice beside him called out, "Don't shoot! I've got Massey with me. He's badly wounded."

Stanski appeared out of nowhere holding a gun.

Massey tried to move, but all his senses seemed to go out of focus, a strange fog started to envelop him, and he slumped forward in his seat.

The buildings set around the convent courtyard had long been allowed to go to ruin, and the vestry at the back of the old church was no different. It had no electricity and stank of urine and excrement, and the plaster walls were peeling.

Anna held a flashlight while Irena supported Lebel and Stanski Carried Massey inside. The Frenchman had difficulty walking, but when she shone the light on Massey she put a hand over her mouth in horror. Blood streamed through his clothes from his wounds and his face was deathly white.

Once they were inside the room, Stanski put Massey down and said to Irena, "Take off his coat, quick as you can." Irena went to do as he said but when she had opened a couple of buttons and saw the wounds she said, "You're wasting your time. He's not going to make it. He's lost too much blood."

She turned on Lebel, anger blazing in her eyes now she had got over the shock of seeing him again. "What a mess you've got me into."

:"I could say the same for myself."

"Lebel, I could cheerfully kill you, you bastard."

"Not my doing, my love. Sometimes things have a way of going wrong. Just be grateful we're both still alive."

Something seemed to snap in lrena then, and she raised a hand to slap Lebel's face, but he deflected it in midair and said, "Don't, try, can't you see I'm in enough pain?"

Stanski was feeling Massey's pulse and he shouted over at them, "You too can slug it out later. Irena, go outside and see if you can find some water. We need to clean these wounds."

Irena went to protest but when she saw the look on Stanski's face she hurriedly left the room.

Lebel said to Stanski, "I was told to give you these." He held out the file and the Tokarev. "Compliments of a Major Lukin. I presume you two know each other?"

Stanski went very still and his face tightened.

Lebel said, "Lukin drove us here. He was alone and told me to tell you he means you no harm, He said to assure you that it's no trick, and that he hasn't been followed." He saw the look of total confusion on Stanski's face and said, "Take it from me, whoever's side the major is on, it's not the KGB'S, He just rescued me. And by the way, that's Lukin's gun you're holding-he's unarmed."

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"My sentiments exactly. This whole thing gets more confusing by the minute. One moment I'm in Paris, the next I'm being tortured in a stinking cell in Moscow, having one of my testicles reshaped. Then, to cap it all, I'm set free by a one armed renegade KGB major playing the rescuing angel. Life certainly has its surprises."

"Where's Lukin now?"

"Outside by the river waiting for you to join him. He says he wants to talk and it's important." Lebel pointed to the file. "But you're to read that first. Something else he said to tell you. That Major Yuri Lukin has discovered the reason why he was chosen to find the Wolf. Whatever that means."

Stanski switched on his flashlight, confusion on his face, and opened the folder.

Lebel turned to Anna. "You must be one of my intended passengers? I'm afraid after tonight we'll be lucky to get out of Moscow, let alone make it to Finland. It looks hopeless."

Before Anna could speak, Massey groaned and she turned to him. He was losing blood fast. She put a hand on his fevered brow, leaned closer and whispered, "Don't die on me, Jake."

Suddenly Massey's eyelids flickered and his voice gurgled. "Anna ..."

"Don't move or talk, Jake. Take it easy."

"Anna ... forgive me ..

"No talk, Jake. Please."

Massey coughed up blood and it dribbled down his chin. His eyes closed and his head slumped to one side. There were tears in Anna's eyes as she turned to Stanski. "For God's sake, can't you do something?"

But he wasn't listening. As he stood there holding the file there was an odd look on his face, which was dazed and suddenly very pale, paler than she had ever seen it before, and he was very still. He held a photograph in his hand and he stared at it silently. Anna screamed at Lebel, "Do something!"

Lebel moved closer and felt Massey's pulse, just as lrena came in carrying a battered zinc bucket stopping with liquid.

"It's all I could find, some ice water from an overflow barrel."

Lebel looked up and let Massey's limp wrist fall.

"I'm afraid we're wasting our time. He's dead."

Snow started to drift down and the icy river looked ghostly white in the darkness.

Beyond the silver birch trees on the far bank, Lukin could see the lights of Moscow. In the distance the red star on top of the Kremlin winked on and off like a beacon through the mist of lightly falling snow.

Stanski sat beside him. There was a timelessness to it all both men were conscious of. The look of shock hadn't left Stanski and he still held the file in his hand. He had made his way down to the riverbank, warily at first, until he had seen the trauma on Lukin's face when their eyes met, a look that told him he had nothing to fear. For a long time the two men sat there, neither speaking, and then, as if to break the tension and silence, Lukin said, "Your friend. Will he make it?"

"He's dead."

"I'm sorry."

"It comes to us all. Nothing could be done."

Lukin looked at Stanski intently. "You read all of the file?"

"Yes."

"And you believed everything you read?"

"I had my doubts, but now ... now I see you up close, yes, I believe it. And from what Lebel tells me you saved his life and ours. You wouldn't have gone to that trouble if you weren't serious." '

Lukin looked out at the darkness. "Who would have imagined it? Now you know why I was picked to track you down and kill you. A sick joke of Stalin's. Pit brother against brother. Blood against blood." He sucked in a deep breath and blew a cloud of steam into the air and shook his head. "I still can't believe it."