they ever lost their hatred of the Soviet invaders who had lunged into their country in '39. As they had been masters of the lakes and the forests then, repulsing whole divisions with brilliantly executed traps, so they were masters forty years later, avoiding others. It was not until Taleniekov had been escorted across an inlet of ice and brought up beyond the patrols above the snow-clogged banks that he realized Checkpoint Vainikala had become an escape route of considerable magnitude. It was no longer minor.
"If ever," said the Finn who bad taken him on his last leg of the journey, "any of you men from Washington want to get beyond these Bolshevik bastards, remember us. Because we do not forget." The irony was not lost on Vasili Vasilovich Taleniekov, former master strategist for the KGB. "You should be careful with such offers," he replied. "How do you know rm not a Soviet plant?" Finn smiled. "We traced you to the Tavastian and made our own inquiries. You were sent by the best there is. He has used us in a dozen different Baltic operations. Give the quiet one our regards." The man extended his hand. "Arrangements have been made to drive you south through Vyborg into Zelenogorsk," continued the escort.
"What?" Taleniekov had made no such request; he had made it clear that once inside the Soviet Union, he preferred to be on his own. "I didn't ask you to do that. I didn't pay for it." The Finn smiled condescendingly. "We thought it best; it will be quicker for you. Walk two kilometers down this road. Youll find a car parked by the snowbank. Ask the man inside for the time, saying your car has broken down-but speak Russian; they say you can do so passably well. If the man answers, then begins winding his watch, that's your ride." "I really don't think this is necessary," objected Vasili. "I expected to make my own arrangements-for both our sakes." "Whatever you might arrange, this is better; it will be daybreak soon and the roads are watched. You have nothing to worry abouL The man you're meeting has been on Washington's payroll for a long time." ne Finn smiled again. "He is second-in-command, KGB-Vyborg." Taleniekov returned the smile. Whatever annoyance he had felt evaporated.
In one sentence his escort had provided the answers to several problems. If stealing from a thief was the safest form of larceny, a "defector" com- promising a traitor was even safer.
"You're a remarkable people," he said to the Finn. "I'm sure we'll do business again." "Why not? Geography keeps us occupied. We have scores to settle." Taleniekov had to ask. "Still? After so many years?" "It never ends. You are fortunate, my friend, you don't live with a wild, unpredictable bear in your backyard. Try it sometime, it's depressing.
Haven't you heard? We drink too much."
Vasili saw the car in the distance, a black shadow among other shadows surrounded by the snow on the road. It was dawn; in an hour the sun would throw its yellow shafts across the Arctic mists and the mists would disappear. As a child, he had been warmed by that sun.
He was home. It had been many years, but there was no sense of return, no joy at the prospect of seeing familiar sights, perhaps a familiar face..
. grown much older, as he had grown older.
There was no elation at all, only purpose. Too much had hanpened; he was cold and the winter sun would bring no warmth on this trip. There was only a family named Voroshin. He approached the car, staying as far to the right as possible, in the blind spot, his Graz-Burya in his gloved right hand. He stepped through the shoulder of snow, keeping his body low, until he was parallel with the front window. He raised his head and looked at the man inside.
The glow of a cigarette partially illuminated the vaguely familiar face.
Taleniekov had seen it before, in a dossier photograph, or perhaps during a brief interview in Riga too insignificant to be remembered. He even remembered the man's name, and that name triggered his memory of the facts.
Maletkin. Pietre Maletkin. From Grodro, just north of the Polish border. He was in his early fifties-the face confirmed that-considered a sound if uninspired professional, someone who did his work quietly, by roteefficiency, but with little else. Through seniority he had risen in the KGB, but his lack of initiative had relegated him to a post in