had torn up a fragment of a dossier that had nothing to do with the man's ability to evaluate classified data for the State Department. Bray had used the cabin a number of times during his recalls to Washington, always when he wished to be beyond reach of the deskmen, usually with a woman. A phone call to the professor was all that it took; no questions were asked, the location of the house key given. This afternoon it was nailed beneath the second shingle from the right on the front roof. Bray got it by using a ladder propped against a nearby tree.
Inside, the decor was properly rustic; heavy beams and Spartan furniture relieved by a profusion of quilted cushions, white walls and red-checked curtains. Flanking the stone fireplace were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled to capacity, the varied bindings lending additional color and warmth.
Chapter Ten
"He is an educated man," said Taleniekov, his eyes scanning the titles.
"Very," replied Bray, lighting a gas-fed Franklin stove. "There are matches on the mantel, the kindling stacked and ready to light." "How convenient," said the KGB man, taking a wooden match from a small glass on the mantel, kneeling down and striking it.
"It's part of the rent. Whoever uses the cabin cleans the fireplace and stacks it." "Part of the rent? What are the other arrangements?" "There's only one. Say nothing. About the place or the owner." "Again, convenient." Taleniekov pulled his hand back as the fire leapt up from the dry wood.
"Very," repeated Scofield, adjusting the heater, satisfied it was functioning. He stood up and faced the Russian. "I don't want to discuss anything until I've had some sleep. You may not agree, but that's the way it's going to be." "I have no objection. I'm not sure I'm capable of being lucid right now, and I must be when we talk. If it's possible, I've had less sleep than you." "Two hours ago we could have killed each other," said Bray, standing motionless. "Neither of us did." "Quite the reverse," agreed the KGB man. "We prevented others from doing so." "Which cancels any obligation between us." "No such obligations exist, of course. However, I submit you may find a larger one when we talk." "You could be right, but I doubt it. You may have to live with Moscow, but I don't have to live with what happened here in Washington today. I can do something about it. Maybe that's the difference between us." "For both our sakes-for all our sakes-I fervently hope you're right." "I am. I'm also going to get some sleep." Scofield pointed to a couch against the wall. 'That pulls out into a bed; there are blankets in the closet over there. I'll use the bedroom." He started for the door, then stopped and turned to the Russian. "Incidentally, the room will be locked, and I'm a very light sleeper." "A condition that afflicts us both, I'm sure," said Taleniekov. "You have nothing to fear from me.".11 never did," Bray said.
Scofield heard faint, sharp crackling sounds and spun under the sheets, his hand gripping the Browning auto- matic by his knees. He raised it beneath the covers as his feet shot out over the side of the bed; he was prepared to crouch and fire.
There was no one in the room. Moonlight streamed through the north window, shafts of colorless white light separated by the thick panes into single streaks of suspended, eerie illumination. For a moment he was not sure where he was, so complete had been his exhaustion, so deep his sleep. He knew by the time his feet touched the floor; his enemy was in the next room. A very strange enemy who had saved his life, and whose life he had saved minutes later.
Bray looked at the luminous dial 4 his watch. It was quarter past four in the morning. He had slept nearly thirteen hours, the heavy weight of his arms and legs, the adhesive moisture in his eyes, and the dryness of his throat evidence of his having moved very little during that time. He sat for a while on the side of the bed, breathing the cold air deeply, putting the gun down and shaking his hands, slapping his fingers together. He looked over at the locked door of the bedroom.
Taleniekov was up and had started a fire, the sharp crackling now the unmistakable sound of burning wood. Scofield decided to put off seeing the Russian for a few more minutes. His