and twisted them violently outward. Stuck to the American's thumb was a small tablet.
"You damn fool! What do you think you're doing?l" Zaimis winced, the pain excruciating. "I'd rather go this way than in the Lubyanka." "You ass! If anyone goes to the Lubyanka, it will be me! Because there are maniacs just like you sitting at their desks in Moscow. And fools-just like you-who would prefer a tablet rather than listen to the truth! You want to die, I'll accommodate you. But first get me to the Dardanelles!" The agent, breathing with difficulty, stared at Taleniekov. Vasili released his hand, removing the tablet from Zaimis' thumb.
"You're for real, aren't you?" Zaimis said.
"I'm for real. Will you help me?" "I haven't got anything to lose," said the agent. "You'll be on our carrier." "Don't forget. Word must get back here from the Dardanelles. If it doesn't, you're finished." Zaimis paused, then nodded. "Check. We trade off." "We trade off," agreed Taleniekov. "Now, can you get me to a telephone?" The cinderblock cubicle in the warehouse had two phones-installed by Russians and no doubt electronically monitored by SAVAK and CIA for intercepts, thought Vasili. They would be sterile; he could talk. The American agent picked up his when Taleniekow finished dialing. The instant the call was answered, Vasili spoke.
"Is this you, my old comrade?" It was and it was not. It was not the station chief he had spoken with earlier; instead, it was the cryptographer Taleniekov had trained years ago in Riga and brought to Sevastopol. The man's voice was low, anxious.
"Our mutual friend was called to the code room; it was arranged. I said I'd wait for your call. I have to see you right away. Where are you?" Zaimis reached over, his bruised fingers gripping the mouthpiece of Vasili's phone. Taleniekov shook his head; in spite of the fact that he trusted the cryptographer, he had no intention of answering the question.
"That's of no consequence. Did the cable come from 'depot'?" "A great deal more than that, old friend." "But it came?" pressed Vasili.
"Yes. But it's not in any cipher I've ever heard of. Nothing you and I ever used before. Neither during our years in Riga nor here." "Re-ad it to me." "There's something else," insisted the code man, his tone now intense.
"They're after you openly. I recycled the teletype to Moscow for in-house confirmation and burnt the original. It will be back in less than two hours. I can't believe it. I won't believe itl" "Calm down. What was it?" "fbere's an alert out for you from the Baltic to the Manchurian borders." "VKRT' asked Vasili, alarmed but controlled; he expected Group Nine to act swiftly but not quite this swiftly.
"Not just VKR. KGB-and every intelligence station we have! As well as all military units. Everywhere. This isn't you they speak of; it couldn't be.
I will not believe it!" "What do they say?" "That you've betrayed the State. You're to be taken, but there's to be no detention, no interrogation at all. You're to be.
executed... without delay." "I see," said Taleniekov. And he did see; he expected it. It was not the VKR. It was powerful men who'd heard he had spoken a name that no one should hear. Matarese. "I've betrayed no one. Believe that." "I do. I know you." "Read me the cable from 'depot."' "Very well. Have you a pencil? It makes no sense." Vasili reached into his pocket for his pen; there was paper on the table.
"Go ahead." The man spoke slowly, clearly. "As follows: 'Invitation Kasimir.
Schrankenwarten five goals'...." The cryptographer stopped; Taleniekov could hear voices in the distance over the line. "I caift go on. People are coming," he said.
"I must have the rest of that cablel" "Thirty minutes. The Amar Magazin. IT be there." The line went dead.
Vasili slammed his fist on the table, then replaced the phone. "I must have it," he repeated in English.
"What's the Amar Magazin-the Lobster Shop?" asked the CIA man.
"A fish restaurant on Kerenski Street, about seven blocks from headquarters. No'one who knows Sevastopol goes there; the food is terrible. But it fits what he was trying to tell me." "What's that?" "Whenever the cryptographer wanted me to screen certain incoming material before others saw it, he would suggest we meet at the A mar." "He didn't just come to your office and talk?" Taleniekov glanced over at the American. "You know better than that." The agent looked hard at Vasili. "They want you very