complexities con- sidered. He was a survivor in a world where only the most astute-and subtle-survived.
Fear was a weapon he used with extraordinary skill.
He stood up, pushing the photographs away in disgust, and strode back to the conference table.
"All nuclear stations are on alert, our submarines approaching firing positions," he said. "I want this information transmitted to all embassies. Use codes Washington has broken." One of the men at the table leaned forward. He was a diplomat, older than the Premier, and obviously an associate of long standing, an ally who could speak somewhat more freely than the other two.
"You take a risk I'm not sure is wise. We're not that certain of the reaction. The American Ambassador was profoundly shocked. I know him; he wasn't lying." "Then he wasn't informed," said the second man curtly. "Speaking for the VKR, we are certain. The bullets and shell casings were identified: seven millimeter-grooved for implosion. Bore markings, unmistakable. They were fired from a Browning Magnum, Grade Four. What more do you need?" "A great deal more than that. Such a weapon is not so difficult to obtain, and I doubt an American assassin would leave his business card." "He might if it was the weapon he was most familiar with. We've found a pattern." The VKR man turned to the middle-aged woman, whose face was chiseled granite. "Explain, if you will, Comrade Director." The woman opened her file folder and scanned the top page before speaking.
She turned to the second page and addressed the Premier, her eyes avoiding the diplomat. "As you know, there were two assassins, presumably both male.
One had to be a marksman of extreme skill and coordination, the other someone who undoubtedly possessed the same qualifications, but who was also an expert in electronic surveillance. There was evidence in the sta- bles-bracket scrapings, suction imprints, footprints indicating unobstructed vantage points-that lead us to believe all conversations in the dacha were intercepted." "You describe CIA expertise, comrade," interrupted the Premier.
"Or Consular Operations, sir," replied the woman. "It's important to bear that in mind." "Oh, yes," agreed the Premier. "The State Departmenfs small band of 'negotiators.' " "Why not the Chinese Tao-pans?" offered the diplomat earnestly. "They're among the most effective killers on earth. The Chinese had more to fear from Yurievich than anyone else." "Physiognomy rules them out," countered the man from VKR. "If one was caught, even after cyanide, Peking knows it would be destroyed." "Get back to this pattern you've found," interrupted the Premier.
The woman continued. "We fed everything through KGB computers, concentrating on American intelligence personnel we know have penetrated Russia, who speak the language fluently, and are known killers. We have arrived at four names. Here they are, Mr. Premier. Three from the Central Intelligence Agency, one from the Department of State's Consular Operations." She handed the page to the VKR man, who in turn rose and gave it to the Premier.
He looked at the names.
Scofield, Brandon Alan. State Department, Consular Operations. Known to have been responsible for assassinations in Prague, Athens, Paris, Munich.
Suspected of having operated in Moscow itself. Involved in over twenty defections.
Randolph, David. Central Intelligence Agency. Cover is Import Traffic Manager, Dynamax Corporation, West Berlin Branch. All phases of sabotage.
Known to have been instrumental in hydroelectrical explosions in Kazan and Tagil.
Saltzman, George Robert. Central Intelligence Agency. Operated as pouch courier and assassin in Vientiane under AID cover for six years. Oriental expert. Currently-as of five weeks ago--in the Tashkent sectors. Cover: Australian inunigrant, sales manager: Perth Radar Corporation.
Bergstrom, Edward. Central Intelligence Agency- "Mr. Premier," interrupted the man from VKR. "My associate meant to explain that the names are in order of priority. In our opinion, the entrapment and execution of Dimitri Yurievich bears all the earmarks of the first man on that list." "This Scofield?" "Yes, Mr. Premier. He disappeared a month ago in Marseilles. He's done more damage, compromised more operations, than any agent the United States has fielded since the war." "Really?" "Yes, sir." The VKR man paused, then spoke hesitantly,
as if he did not want to go on, but knew he must. "His wife was killed ten years ago. In East Berlin. He's been a maniac ever since." "East Berlin?" "It was a trap. KGB." The telephone rang on the Premiees desk; be crossed rapidly and picked it up.
It was the President of the United States. The interpreters were on the line; they went to work.
"We grieve the death-the terrible murder-of a very great scientist, Mr.