a harsh bark. "Do you know how tough this man is? This man killed Germans while he was on fire! This man looked at death a thousand times and pissed on it!"
"I can get what I want out of him," Vatutin insisted quietly.
"Torture, is it? Are you mad? Keep in mind that the Taman Guards Motor-Rifle Division is based a few kilometers from here. You think the Red Army will sit still while you torture one of its heroes? Stalin is dead, Comrade Colonel, and so is Beriya."
"We can extract the information without doing physical harm," Vatutin said. That was one of KGB's most closely guarded secrets.
"Rubbish!"
"In that case, General, what do you recommend?" Vatutin asked, knowing the answer.
"Let me take over the case. We'll see to it that he never betrays the Rodina again, you can be sure of that," Ignat'yev promised.
"And save the Army the embarrassment, of course."
"We would save embarrassment for everyone, not the least you, Comrade Colonel, for fucking up this so-called investigation."
Well, that's about what I expected. A little bluster and a few threats, mixed with a little sympathy and comradeliness. Vatutin saw that he had a way out, but that the safety it promised also promised to end his advancement. The handwritten message from the Chairman had made that clear enough. He was trapped between two enemies, and though he could still win the approval of one, the largest goal involved the largest risk. He could retreat from the true objective of the investigation, and stay a colonel the rest of his life, or he could do what he'd hoped to do when he began-without any political motives, Vatutin remembered bleakly-and risk disgrace. The decision was paradoxically an easy one. Vatutin was a "Two" man-
"It is my case. The Chairman has given it to me to run, and I will run it in my way. Thank you for your advice, Comrade General."
Ignat'yev appraised the man and the statement. It wasn't often that he encountered integrity, and it saddened him in a vague, distant way that he could not congratulate the man who demonstrated this rarest of qualities. But loyalty to the Soviet Army came first.
"As you wish. I expect to be kept informed of all your activities." Ignat'yev left without another word.
Vatutin sat at his desk for a few minutes, appraising his own position. Then he called for his car. Twenty minutes later he was at Lefortovo. "Impossible," the doctor told him before he had even asked
the question.
"What?"
"You want to put this man into the sensory-deprivation tank, don't you?"
"Of course."
"It would probably kill him. I don't think you want to do that, and I am sure that I will not risk my project on something like this."
"It's my case, and I'll run it-"
"Comrade Colonel, the man in question is over seventy years old. I have his medical file here. He has all the symptoms of moderate cardiovascular disease-normal at this age, of course-and a history of respiratory problems. The onset of the first anxiety period would explode his heart like a balloon. I can almost guarantee it."
"What do you mean-explode his heart-"
"Excuse me-it's difficult to explain medical terms to the layman. His coronary arteries are coated with moderate amounts of plaque. It happens to all of us; it comes from the food we eat. His arteries are more blocked than yours or mine because of his age, and also, because of his age, the arteries are less flexible than those of a younger person. If his heart rate goes too high, the plaque deposits will dislodge and cause a blockage. That's what a heart attack is, Colonel, a blockage of a coronary artery. Part of the heart muscle dies, the heart stops entirely or becomes arhythmic; in either case it ceases to pump blood, and the whole patient dies. Is that clear? Use of the tank will almost certainly induce a heart attack in the subject, and that attack will almost certainly be fatal. If not a heart attack, there is the somewhat lesser probability of a massive stroke-or both could happen. No, Comrade Colonel, we cannot use the tank for this man. I do not think that you wish to kill him before you get your information."
"What about other physical measures?" Vatutin asked quietly. My God, what if I can't ?
"If you're certain that he's guilty, you can shoot him at once and be done with it," the physician observed. "But any gross physical abuse is likely to kill the patient."
And all because