our own branches. We are dead men, Scofield." "Speak for yourselfl" Bray was suddenly angry. "I'm out, terminated, finished! I don't give a godamn what happens out therel Don't you make judgments about me!" "They've already been made. By others." "Because you say so?" Scofield got up, putting the coffee down, his hand not far from the Browning in his belt.
"Because I believed the man who told me. It's why I'm here, why I saved your life and did not take it myself." "I have to wonder about that, don't IT' "What?" "Everything timed, even to your knowing where Prague was on the staircase." "I killed a man who had you under his gun!" "Prague? A minor sacrifice. I'm a terminated encyclopedia. I have no proof my government reached Moscow, only possible conclusions based on what you told me. Maybe I'm missing the obvious, maybe the great Talenie- kov is eating a little temporary crow to bring in Beowulf Agate." "Damn you, Scofield!" roared the KGB man, springing up from the chair.
"I should have let you die! Hear me clearly. What you suggest is unthinkable and the KGB knows it. My feelings run too deep. I'd never bring you in. I'd kill you first." Bray stared at the Russian, the honesty of Taleniekov's statement obvious. "I believe you," said Scofield, nodding, his anger diminishing in weariness. "But it doesn't change anything. I don't care. I really don't give a godamn.... I'm not even sure I want to kill you anymore. I just want to be left alone." Bray turned away. "Take the keys to the car and get out of here. Consider yourself. alive." "Thank you for your generosity, Beowulf, but I'm afraid it's too late." "What?" Scofield turned back to the Soviet.
"I did not finish. A man was caught, chemicals administered. There is a timetable, two months, three at the outside. The words were: 'Moscow by assassination; Washington by political maneuver-murder, if necessary.' When it happens, neither you nor I will survive. They'll track us to the ends of the earth." "Wait a minute," said Bray, furious. "Are you telling me that your people have a man?" "Had," corrected Taleniekov. "Cyanide was implanted under his skin; he reached it." "But he was heard. He was taped, recorded. His words were therel" "Heard. Not taped, not recorded. And only by one man-who was warned by his father not to permit anyone else to listen." "The Premier?" "Yes.
"Then he knows!" "Yes, he knows. And all he can do is try to protect himself-nothing particularly new in his position-but he can't speak of it. For to speak of it, as Krupskaya said, is to acknowledge the past. This is the age of conspiracy, Scofield. Who cares to bring up past contracts? In my country there are a number of unexplained corpses; you're not so different over here. The Kennedys, Martin Luther King; perhaps most stunning, Franklin Roosevelt. We could all be at each others' throats-more precisely on the nuclear buttons-if our combined pasts were revealed. What would you do, if you were the Premier?" "Protect myself," said Bray softly. "Oh, my God.
"Now do you see?" "I don't want to. I really don't want to. I'm outt" "I submit that you cannot be. Nor 1. The proof was yesterday on Nebraska Avenue. We're marked; they want us. They convinced others to have us killed-for the wrong reasons-but they were behind the strategy. Can you doubt it?" "I wish I could. The manipulators are always easiest to manipulate, con-men the biggest suckers. Jesus." Scofield walked to the stove to pour himself more coffee. Suddenly, he was struck by something not said, unclear. "I don't understand. From what little's known about the Matarese, it started as a cult and evolved into a business. It accepted contracts-or supposedly accepted contracts -on the basis of feasibility and price. It killed for money; it was never interested in power, per se. Why is it interested now?" "I don't know," said the KGB man. "Neither did Krupskaya. He was dying and not very lucid, but he said the answer might be in Corsica." "Corsica? Why?" "It's where it all began." "Not where it is. If it is. The word was that the Matarese moved out of Corsica in the mid-thirties. Contracts were negotiated as far away as London, New York. even Berlin. Centers of international traffic." "Then perhaps clues to an answer is more appropriate. The council of the Matarese was formed in Corsica, only one name ever revealed.