don't, I will not be able to remember a name you should know in Vyborg." Taleniekov patted the traitor's cheek; Maletkin flinched. "Go back to your woman, comrade, and perform well. But finish with her before too long. I want you checked out of the hotel by three-thirty.,' "Yes. Drive your car to the Anicbkov Bridge-, be there no later than four o'clock. Make two trips over the bridge and back. I'll meet you on one side or the other." "The militsianyera. They stop suspicious vehicles, and a car traveling back and forth over the Anichkov at four in the morning is not a normal sight." "Exactly. If there are militsianyera around, I want to know it." "Suppose they stop me?" "Must I keep reminding you that you are a colonel of the KGB? You're on official business. Very official and very secret." VasUi started to leave, then turned back. "It just struck me," he said. "It may have occurred to you to borrow a weapon and shoot me down at an opportune moment. On the one hand, you could take credit for bringing me in and on the other, you could swear you tried to prevent my being killed at great risk to yourself. As long as you were willing to forgo the name of the man in Vyborg, such a strategy would appear to be sound. Very little risk, rewards from both camps. But you should know that every step I take in your presence here in Leningrad is being watched by another now." Maletkin spoke with mounting intensity. "I swear to you such a thing never occurred to mel" You really are a damn fool, thought Taleniekov. "Four o'clock then, comrade."
Vasili approached the staircase of the building four doors down the block from Lodzia's flat. He had glanced up at her windows; her lights were on.
She was home.
He climbed the steps slowly, as a tired man might, returning to an uninviting home after putting in unwanted, unpaid-for over-time behind a never-ending conveyor belt in the cause of some new economic plan no one understood. He opened the glass door and went inside the small vestibule.
Instantly, he straightened up, the brief performance over; there was no hesitation now. He opened the inner door, walked to the basement staircase, and descended into the filthy environs of the connecting cellars. He passed the door in which he bad placed the dead Englishman, vodka poured down the throat, wrists slashed with a razor. He pulled out his lighter, ignited it, and pushed the door back.
The Englishman was gone. Not only was he gone but there were no signs of blood; everything had been scrubbed clean.
Taleniekov's body went rigid, his thoughts suspended in shock. Something terrible had happened. He had been wrong.
So wrongl Yet he had been sure. The soldiers of the Matarese were expendable, but the last thing they would do would be to return to a scene of violence.
The possibilities of a trap were too great; the Matarese would not, could not, take that riskl But they had, the target worth the gamble. What had he done?
Lodzial He left the door ajar and started walking rapidly, through the connecting cellars, the Graz-Burya in his hand, his steps silent, his eyes and ears primed.
He reached Lodzia's building and started up the steps to the ground-level foyer. He pulled the door back slowly and listened; there was a burst of laughter from the staircase above. A high-pitched female voice, joined seconds later by the laughter of a man.
Vasili put the Graz-Burya in his pocket, stepped inside around the railing, and walked unsteadily up the steps after the couple. They approached the second-floor landing, diagonally across from Lodzia's door. Taleniekov spoke, a foolish grin on his face.
"Would you young people do a middle-aged lover a favor? I'm afraid I had that one vodka too many." The couple turned, smiling as one. "What's the problem friendT' the young man asked.
"My friend is the problem," said Taleniekov, gesturing at Lodzia's door.
"I was to meet her after the performance at the Kirov. I'm afraid I was delayed by an old army comrade. I think she's angry as bell. Please knock for me; if she hears my voice she probably won't let me in." Vasili grinned again, his thoughts in opposition to his smile. The conceivable sacrifice of the young and the attractive grew more painful as one got older.
"It's the least we can do for a soldier," said the girl, laughing brightly. "Go on, husband-mine, do