“I should have told you to depress the clutch as we stopped,” said Ishihara. “Never mind that now. We will get out and knock on the door.”
Wayne grabbed his bundled cloak and followed Ishihara around the corner. At least their overcoats hid their tunics and leggings. They approached a very large building, barely visible in the faint moonlight. Ishihara led him to the front door and knocked.
At first nothing happened. Ishihara knocked several more times. Finally, Wayne heard footsteps and the door creaked open slightly. An elderly woman with long white hair falling about her shoulders looked out.
“Please, comrade,” said Ishihara. “We have been turned away from many places tonight. We only need a small space in which to sleep.”
Yawning, the woman glanced at both of them. Then she nodded. She stepped back and opened the door.
Wayne followed Ishihara inside, relieved to feel the warmth. The woman switched on a small lamp. In the light it threw, Wayne could see that sleeping people filled the floor. A few lying within the range of the lamp stirred slightly; otherwise, the light did not disturb anyone.
The woman gestured vaguely toward the room at large; apparently she was telling them to find their own places. Then she stood next to the lamp, waiting for them to do so before turning it off again. Ishihara found a small spot for them along one wall. They sat down there, and Wayne rolled up in his cloak. A moment later, the woman turned out the light.
Hunter’s glimpse of Wayne and Ishihara had been brief and limited by the shadows, but it had been enough to identify them. The agents who had just taken him into custody had been furious. While one held Hunter’s arm, the other had shouted in rage, stomping his feet and firing a warning shot into the air after the departing vehicle. During that same few seconds, Steve had radioed Hunter from just inside the building.
As the two agents had argued with each other, Hunter had overheard their names. Agent Raskov, the angrier one, had wanted to go back inside and use the warehouse telephone to report the theft of the car. However, Agent Konev had absolutely forbade it on the grounds that they would look bad, even incompetent, to the people inside. Hunter observed that Agent Konev was the senior partner, with the authority to make the final decision.
Since that argument, the two agents had been marching Hunter up the street between them. Each one held one of his arms and walked in silence. Hunter was not certain if they had a clear plan themselves. He did understand Agent Konev’s position, however. When a government functioned by terrorizing its own citizens, its agents could only lose power by revealing their personal fallibility.
At any time, of course, Hunter could pull away from them by brute force. He did not want to do that except in an emergency. If possible, he wanted to satisfy the NKVD agents that he was no threat and depart from them on good terms. Otherwise, the team would remain fugitives from the NKVD for the rest of their time here. That could only damage their chances of finding MC 4.
“All right, hold it.” Agent Raskov brought them to a stop. “Are we going to walk all night? Even if we don’t report to the head office that the car was stolen, surely we can call someone for help.”
“Who?” Agent Konev demanded gruffly. “How many of our fellow agents want to see us reassigned, so they could move up into our places? All they need is something to use against us. We don’t dare turn to any of them.”
“Not every colleague wants our jobs. What about the two guys you worked with last year?”
“Hah! They would love to see us both in Siberian labor camps, comrade.”
“Well, even if we walk all the way to the office, someone will notice our car is not there-in the morning, after daylight.” Agent Raskov sighed. “I’m very tired.”
“You may interrogate me here,” said Hunter. “If it would be more convenient.”
“Shut up,” said Agent Konev.
Hunter saw that he was not particularly angry. Since Hunter had been docile to this point, and both agents had handguns, he had not challenged their control of the situation. He decided to risk speaking again.
“Why did you take me?”
“I just told you-” Agent Konev started.
“Don’t waste your breath on him,” Agent Raskov interrupted. “What are we going to do?”
“Have you been influenced by Wayne Nystrom and Mr. Ishihara?” Hunter spoke in a calm, unemotional tone. He had no idea, of course, if they had given their right names.
Both men turned to him in surprise.
“What have they told you?” Hunter asked.
“Shut up,” Agent Konev repeated. He was still studying Hunter’s face, however, with new interest.
“You know them personally?” Agent Raskov asked.
“Yes, I do,” said Hunter. “I suspect they are using you for their own ends.”
“What does that mean?” Agent Konev demanded.
“I think it’s obvious,” said Agent Raskov. “We’ve been duped, comrade. They sent us on a diversionary chase and stole our vehicle. Maybe Hunter, here, is not at all that they claimed he was.”
“Well, maybe he is. We certainly can’t afford to make another blunder tonight.”
“Granted,” said Agent Raskov. “Let’s go into an apartment building and start knocking on doors. Sooner or later, we’ll find someone who has a telephone. We don’t have to give any explanations about our car.”
“All right,” Agent Konev said wearily. “We must get to work on this. I agree.”
Hunter patiently allowed them to take him wherever they wished. They marched him to the front of a darkened apartment building, where Agent Raskov remained out on the sidewalk with him. Agent Konev pounded on the locked front door, waited, and then hammered on it again. The sound was loud on the quiet street. Finally someone opened it. Agent Konev identified himself and was allowed inside.
Hunter waited only six minutes with Agent Raskov before Agent Konev came back out of the building.
“Did you find a phone?” Agent Raskov asked.
“Yes.” Agent Konev nodded grimly. “I did not explain, not yet.”
“We will have to explain soon. Who else was on duty? Who is coming to get us, comrade?”
“The night clerk is driving out.”
“Oh, young Mikhail? At least he will keep his mouth shut.” Agent Raskov let out a long sigh.
“Yes, he will.”
They waited out on the street for only about ten minutes before a car drew up to the curb. Hunter allowed himself to be directed into the backseat between the two agents. No one spoke as they rode away.
The car parked behind a large building. Hunter recognized it as the same one from which he had rescued Judy. He was taken into an unmarked back door. Inside, he found himself at the opposite end of the same hallway where he had bluffed his way in to get Judy.
For a few minutes, the agents locked him up alone in an interrogation room. It was similar to the one in which Judy had been held, with a table, a single lamp, and several chairs. The walls had no windows. A steam radiator against one wall provided some heat. He sat down in a chair.
When the door opened, his two hosts came in, now without their overcoats, and shut it. They sat down across the table from him, studying him grimly. He waited for them to speak.
“Who are you, Hunter? Where did you come from?” Agent Konev looked him in the eye.
“I was a farm worker west of Moscow until the Germans came. Then I fled into the city with everyone else.” By now, using their own speech as a model, Hunter had polished and perfected his Russian accent and colloquialisms. They would not pick out flaws in his speech.
“What was the name of your farm?”
Hunter did not know of one. He shrugged. “We just called it ‘the farm.’ “
Agent Konev frowned deeply. “You don’t know the name of the place were you worked?”
“We never paid much attention.”
“I say you are a German spy.”
Hunter remained silent. That was probably what Wayne Nystrom had told them. Based on what Judy had told him about the NKVD, he now expected much worse treatment-maybe physical torture and an attempt to imprison him in a labor camp.