south slope." "Kill them!" The girl's words were muffled by Scofield's hand.
"To what purpose now?" said the KGB man. "She did what she wished to do, what she felt she had to do."
The dog would not follow them; commands from Antonia had no effect. It raced down into the farmhouse and would not come out; its whimpering carried up to the ridge.
"Goodbye, Uccello," said the girl sobbing. "I will come back for you.
Before God, I will come backl" They walked out of the mountains, circling northwest beyond the hills of Porto Vecchio, then south to Sainte Lucie, following the stream until they reached the massive pine under which Bray had buried his attach6 case and duffle bag. They traveled cautiously, using the woods as much as possible, separating and walking in sequence across open stretches so no one would see them together.
Scofield pulled the shovel from beneath a pile of branches, dug up his belongings, and they started out again, retracing the stream north toward Sainte Lucie. Conversation was kept to a minimum; they wasted no time putting distance between themselves and the hills.
The long silences and brief separations served a practical purpose, thought Bray, watching the girl as she pressed forward, bewildered, following their commands without thinking, tears intermittently appearing in her eyes. The constant movement occupied her mind; she had to come to some sort of acceptance of her "grandmother" 's death. No words from relative strangers could help her; she needed the loneliness of her own thoughts, Scofield suspected that in spite of her handling of the Lupo, Antonia was not a child of violence. She was no child to begin with; in the daylight he could see that she would not see thirty again, but beyond that, she came from a world of radical academics, not revolution. He doubted she would know what to do at the barricades.
"We must stop running!" she cried suddenly. "You may do what you like, but I am returning to Porto Vecchio. I'll see them hangedr' "There's a great deal you don't know," said Taleniekov.
"She was killed! That is all I have to knowl" "It's not that simple," said Bray. "The truth is she killed herself." "They killed herl" "She forced them to." Scofield took her hand, gripping it firmly. "Try to understand me. We can't let you go back; your grandmother knew that.
What happened dur. ing the past forty-eight hours has got to fade away just as fast as possible. There'll be a certain amount of panic up in those hills; they'll send men trying to find us, but in sev. eral weeks when nothing happens, they'll cool off. They'll live with their own fears but they'll be quiet. It's the only thing they can do. Your grandmother understood that. She counted on it." "But why?" "Because we have other things to do," said the Russian. "She understood that, too. It's why she sent you back to find us." "What are these things?" asked Antonia, then answered for herself. "She said you had names. She spoke of a shepherd boy." "But you must speak of neither" ordered Taleniekov. "Not if you wish her death to mean anything. We cannot let you interfere." Scofield caught the sound in the KGB man's voice and for an instant found himself reaching for his gun. In that split second the memory of Berlin ten years ago was prodded to the surface. Taleniekov had already made a decision: if the Russian had the slightest doubt, he would kill this girl.
"She won't interfere," said Bray without knowing why he gave such a guarantee, but delivering it firmly. "Let's go. We'll make one stop; I'll see a man in Murato. Then if we can reach Bastia, I can get us out." "To where, signore? You cannot order me--" "Be quiet," said Bray. "Don't press your luck." "No, don't," added the KGB man, glancing at Scofield. "We must talk. As before, we should travel separately, divide our work, set up schedules and points of contact. We have much to discuss." "By my guess, there are ninety miles between here and Bastia. There'll be plenty of time to talk." Scofield reached down for his attach6 case; the girl snapped her hand out
of his, angrily moving away. The Russian leaned over for the duffle bag.
"I suggest we talk alone," he said to Bray. "She's not an asset, Beowulf." "You disappoint me." Scofield took the duffle bag from the KGB man.
'IWn't anyone ever taught you to convert a liability into an