"Those who think our policy toward the Soviet Union is too mild?" Morrison nodded. "I've met a few."
"Well, then, there you are. His ambition consumes him and if extremism will advance his plans, then he is prepared to be an extremist."
"Surely you don't think he can arrange some sort of coup in Moscow and put the diehards in control and do it all in time to stop me from leaving for home this evening?"
"You've got it the wrong way around, Albert. If he could somehow prevent you from leaving and precipitate a crisis, he may be able to persuade some in the government to stand firm and delay your leaving for a long time. He can be very persuasive, our friend, when he is in the full grip of his mania. He can sway even Natalya."
Kaliinin fell into a silence and bit at her lower lip. Finally she looked up and said, "He hasn't given up on you and he won't. I'm sure of it. I've got to get you away."
She rose suddenly and paced up and down the room with short, quick steps, looking as though she were trying to force the Universe into turning her way. She stopped in front of the door, listened, then jerked it open suddenly.
Valeri Paleron, her bland expression shifting rapidly into surprise, had one fist raised, as though she were about to knock.
"What do you want?" said Kaliinin tightly.
"I?" said the waitress. "I want nothing. It is a question of whether you do. I have come to ask if you would like some tea."
"We have not asked for any."
"I did not say you have. I come out of courtesy."
"Then go out of courtesy. And do not return."
Paleron, reddening, looked from Kaliinin to Morrison and said between her teeth, "Perhaps I interrupt a tender moment."
"Leave!" said Kaliinin. She closed the door, waited long enough to count to ten in a deliberate manner (her lips moving soundlessly), and then flung it open again. No one was there.
She closed the door and locked it, walked to the opposite end of the room, and said in a low voice, "She had been out there, probably, for quite some time. I heard feet shuffling."
Morrison said, "If high-tech bugging is pass‚, then I suppose there is a premium on old-fashion eavesdropping."
"Ah, but for whom?"
"Do you suppose she does it for Yuri? It doesn't seem likely that he would have the money to hire spies - or does he?"
"It might not take much money. A woman like that might do it for pleasure."
There was silence for a moment and then Morrison said, "If it's possible that you're beset by spies, Sophia, why not come to America with me?"
"What?" She seemed not to have heard him.
"You might be in trouble for getting me out, you know."
"Why? I have official papers that will place you on the plane. I am under orders."
"That might not save you if a scapegoat is needed. Why not just get on the plane with me, Sophia, and come to America?"
"Just like that? What would happen to my child?"
"We'll send for her afterward."
"We'll send for her? What are you suggesting?"
Morrison flushed slightly. "I'm not sure. We can be friends, certainly. You'll need friends in a new country."
"But it can't happen, Albert. I appreciate your kindness and concern - or pity - but it can't happen."
"Yes, it can. This is the twenty-first century, not the twentieth, Sophia. People may move about freely anywhere in the world."
"Dear Albert," said Kaliinin, "you do tend to live in theory. Yes, people can move about, but every nation has its exceptions. The Soviet Union will not allow a highly trained scientist with experience in miniaturization-related fields to leave the country. Think about it and you'll see that that's reasonable. If I do accompany you, there will be an immediate Soviet protest, a sure claim that I have been kidnapped, and there will be a loud howl from all corners of the world that I be sent back in order to avoid a crisis. Sweden will act as quickly for me as she has for you."
"But in my case, I was kidnapped."
"There'll be many who will believe I was - or who might prefer to believe it - and I will be sent back by the United States, as you are being sent back by the Soviet Union. We've papered over, in this fashion, dozens of crises over the last six decades or so - and isn't that better than war?"
"If you say, firmly and frequently, that you want to stay in the United States -"
"Then I never see my child again and my life may be at risk, too. Besides, I don't want to go to the United States."
Morrison looked surprised.
Kaliinin said, "Do you find that hard to believe? Do you want to stay in the Soviet Union?"
"Of course not. My country -" He stopped.
She said, "Exactly. You talk endlessly about humanity, about the importance of a global view, but if we scrape you down to your emotions, it's your country. I have a country also, a language, a literature, a culture, a way of life. I don't want to give it up."
Morrison sighed. "As you say, Sophia."
Sophia said, "But I cannot endure it here in this room any longer, Albert. There's no use waiting. Let us get into the car and I'll drive you to where the Swedish plane is waiting."
"It probably won't be there."
"Then we'll wait at the airport, rather than here, and we'll at least be certain that as soon as it arrives you can board it. I want to see you safely gone, Albert, and I want to see his face afterward."
She was out the room and clattering down the stairs. He followed hastily. He was, in truth, not sorry to be going.
They strode along a carpeted corridor and through a door that led directly out to the side of the hotel.
There, pulled up close to the wall, was a highly polished black limousine.
Morrison, a little breathless, said, "They're certainly supplying us with deluxe transportation. Can you drive that thing?"
"Like a dream," said Kaliinin, smiling - and then came to a full and sudden halt, her smile forgotten.
Around the corner of the hotel stepped Konev. He, too, halted and for long moments they did not stir, either of them - as though they were a pair of Gorgons, each of whom had frozen into stone at the glance of the other.
Morrison was the first to speak. He said a little huskily, "Have you come to see me off, Yuri? If so, good-bye. I'm leaving."
The phrases sounded false in his own ears and his heart was pounding.
Yuri's eyes shifted just enough to glance quickly at Morrison and then moved back to their original position.
Morrison said, "Come, Sophia."
He might as well have said nothing. When she spoke - finally - it was to Konev. "What do you want?" she demanded harshly.
"The American," said Konev in a tone no softer than hers.
"I'm taking him away."
"Don't. We need him. He has deceived us." Konev's voice was becoming quieter.
"So you say," said Kabinin. "I have my orders. I am to take him to a plane and see that he gets in. You cannot have him."
"It's not I who must have him. It's the nation."
"Tell me. Go on and tell me. Say that Holy Mother Russia needs him and I'll laugh in your face."
"I'll say no such thing. The Soviet Union needs him."
"You care only for yourself. Step out of my way."
Konev moved between the two others and the limo. "No. You don't understand the importance of his staying here. Believe me. My report has already gone to Moscow."
"I'm sure and I can guess to whom it's going, too. But old gruff-and-grumble won't be able to do anything. He's a blowhard and we all know that. He won't dare say a word in the Presidium and if he does, Albert will be long gone."
"No. He's not going."
Morrison said, "I'll take care of him, Sophia. You open the limo door." He felt himself trembling slightly. Konev was not a large man, but he looked wiry and he was clearly determined. Morrison did not believe himself to be a successful gladiator under any conditions and he certainly didn't feel like one now.