And currently, of course, to contain other kinds of escapees.
TWENTY-ONE
They went down the hole in the ground up which the Chinese workers had come. This underground entry was lined with stressed-concrete and lead, and steps twisted down into the earth. The masts and radar scanners remained in position as Shaw went down the steps; no doubt they would be lowered into their silos for safety once they had picked up anything heading towards the island base.
Ingrid was behind Shaw now, with Rencke holding his gun in her spine, while ahead a Chinese worker, also armed, led the way. Another armed man came down behind Rencke. As they descended a concrete lid moved smoothly into place overhead, sealing the entry. The steps continued downward for some thirty feet, then they came into the comparative warmth of an enclosed concrete-lined gallery in the form of a passage leading to left and right in a circle around the main pit housing the big metal plate that had brought the helicopter down. The man ahead led them to the left, past a number of doors. The place was quiet, though in the background was the deep hum of dynamos and the sound of forced-draught air intakes; and as they passed some of the doors there was the subdued but insistent whine of machinery, while at others they heard, faintly, the bleep-bleep of radar, or the high-speed shorts and longs of radio transmissions. The underground base was roughly built and had an unfinished look about it — it was thoroughly utilitarian and austere — but it was a monstrous place to find in this barren, bitter island off Russia’s north-east coast. Their footsteps echoed on the bare concrete floor, like so many knells of doom for Skyprobe IV, which was probably even now being continually tracked in its orbit from this pirate outfit in the Kuriles.
Their guide stopped at a door some distance beyond the others. He turned smartly, covering the prisoners with his gun. The other man closed in in rear. Rencke said with an air of portent, “In a few minutes, after I have spoken to him, you will meet one of Communism’s most brilliant scientific brains, Commander… a man of impressive achievement.”
Rencke opened the door and went in, and one of the Chinese closed the door behind him.
Fifteen minutes later a green light glowed above the doorway and Shaw and Ingrid were pushed into the room ahead of the guns. The apartment was as bare and utilitarian as the passages, and it was stuffy with stale, used air. There were a number of steel filing-cabinets, some hard chairs, and a trestle desk with two telephones on it, one coloured red, the other white. The man behind the desk looked ordinary enough — a thin, pale man in his early forties, wearing heavy hom-rimmed spectacles and dressed in a long white coat over dark trousers. His eyes, hard and dedicated and much magnified by the thick lenses, reminded Shaw irresistibly of a frog.
But — it was a familiar face in some respects. Shaw fancied he had seen that frog-like look before… in photographs, a few years earUer, though for the moment anyway he couldn’t place the man.
Rencke moved round the prisoners towards the desk. “Doctor,” he said, “this is the man Shaw of the British Defence Intelligence Staff… and Ingrid Lange, of whom you also know.”
The man behind the desk rose with solemn politeness and reached out his hand. He said, “I am so glad to meet you, Commander Shaw — it is a most unexpected but fortunate surprise. I have heard much of you, very much. I am Dr. Anatoli Kalitzkin.” He looked expectant. “You have heard of me also, perhaps?”
Anatoli Kalitzkin! Shaw was rocked, but he remembered now. The face had altered from the photographs, probably as a result of plastic surgery, but it was Kalitzkin all right. He said, “Yes, I’ve heard of you.” Four years ago the Western security services had buzzed with rumours about this man. Kalitzkin, comparatively young as he was, had been until then one of the Soviet’s top scientists, a man of brilliant brain as Rencke had said, a man of great administrative ability and drive, a leading light in the Russian space research programme and one of the men behind the moon-probe — the nearest Russia could approach, in fact, to the West’s Professor Danvers-Marshall, a man of very similar calibre professionally. But Kalitzkin had the reputation of being a cold fish, unemotional and detached and ruthless in the interests of scientific advance. He had never married and was believed to have few personal relationships. He lived for his work alone. Then four years ago he had suddenly vanished from the scene; his name had no longer been mentioned and his posts had been filled by other men, much lesser men by all accounts. It had been assumed that either he had died or had been liquidated, or imprisoned on some ideological charge, but the intrigued West had never learned the facts of what had really happened to him.
Not until now.…
Kalitzkin gave a tight, formal bow in Ingrid’s direction. Indicating the chairs he said, “Please will you sit.”
Shaw and Ingrid each took a chair; Rencke followed suit. Kalitzkin resumed his own seat, while the armed guards stood back against the door with their guns ready for use. Kalitzkin pushed his spectacles up onto his forehead and rubbed at his eyes before replacing the lenses. Shaw noticed that the scientist looked tired and strained, as though from many months of unceasing work and responsibility. Kalitzkin wasted no more time on pleasantries now. Abruptly he said, “I should tell you this, that I am the head of the interception operation here in the Kuriles, and as such am in charge of the safe landing arrangements for the American capsule, and its crew, at this base. But I shall come back to this point in more detail shortly, Commander. First I believe you will want to know what we propose to do with you now that you have joined us. I shall satisfy your natural curiosity.” He leaned forward, elbows planted on the desk, palms together, his chin resting on the tips of his extended fingers. His expression was earnest and his eyes were bright behind the thick spectacles. “In the first place, I believe you can be a most useful person for us to have in our hands, both now and after the diversion, on account of your unrivalled experience and excellent knowledge of Western intelligence and its methods. There is much that you will be able to tell us—”
“If you think—”
“Please, Commander Shaw!” Kalitzkin held up a hand in a schoolmasterly gesture of admonition. “I realize, of course, that you will tell us nothing until certain pressures have been applied. But let me continue. There is, as it has happened, also another reason why you can be usefuclass="underline" you can assist us in our actual diversion plans.” He caught Rencke’s eye.
“Really?” Shaw was icily polite. “You’re expecting rather a lot, aren’t you, Dr. Kalitzkin?”
“Possibly,” the Russian agreed, inclining his head. “But, again, we would not expect your immediate co-operation, naturally. There will be persuasion, of course.…”
“Of course! In the meantime, perhaps you’ll be good enough to tell me just what those plans are — and also exactly who you mean by ‘us.’ Judging from the fact you have Chinese around the place, I take it both Russia and China are behind the threat to Skyprobe IV. Now, I find that extremely interesting! Have the two Communist countries managed to find a common cause over this, Doctor?”
Kalitzkin shook his head. “Not exactly, Commander. Not exactly… there are, I regret to say, all too few matters upon which our Eastern governments see eye to eye, as you know. Indeed, the Kremlin itself has no knowledge of what we propose to do here, nor even, we believe, of our existence as a cohesive body. Peking is not directly concerned either, though—”
Shaw interrupted, “Let’s get this straight, shall we? Are you telling me you’re going it alone, that you’ve had no help from the Communist governments at all?” He waved a hand around the compartment. “Where did your resources come from, in that case? This isn’t exactly luxury, but it’s solid and it’s here. This outfit wasn’t put together with old ashcans!”