“Why’s that? He’s—”
“Yes, you are going to say he is harmless and old, and so he is, but his views are suspect, Mr Alison. I have no more to say about that. Meanwhile, the Soviet extends its welcome to its guests, Mr Alison, and will return to its normal policy of complete and joyous freedom within a few days. 1 have nothing more to say.” He reached out for a form on his desk. “I shall issue you with temporary papers, and then you will be free to go.”
They evidently had no suspicions whatever about him — yet. His room hadn’t been touched in his absence and even his Webley was still where he had left it, as large as life under his pillow. He looked at his chest-of-drawers, saw the innocent-looking battery shaver still there in its case. He opened it up; that too seemed to be untouched. These people were no doubt absolutely confident of themselves, confident that no one could stop their plans. It was obvious that the extremists were winning out now, were most probably mounting their full-scale take-over this very night. In four days the London Conference was due to break up and the Soviet Foreign Minister would be on his way home. Something had to happen before then. There was also another worry. So far that faked passport had held up but to date it had never been under really close examination — not even tonight. Now the MVD would have all the time in the world to amuse themselves with it if they chose to do so. It was perfectly likely that they would give all aliens’ papers a fresh and thorough going over — and if that happened his life wouldn’t be worth twopence.
After breakfast he risked a phone-call to the medical research centre and asked for Dr Somalin. When Triska came, rather breathlessly, to the phone, he asked, “Can you meet me in the Lenin Gardens at lunchtime? I’d… very much like to see you, Triska.” He put all the meaning he could into that short conversation and she said yes, she would fix it and she would be there, by the gate into Nikolai Street.
He was impatient now for the darkness, the comparatively long darkness of early autumn in those high northern latitudes, for there was something he had to do now and he couldn’t do it except under cover of the night; and first he needed Triska’s help. He remained in the hotel for a time, studying any newspapers he could find, looking for any clues to the current situation. There were none of that day’s papers, however, and the hotel seemed unusually empty, even the vodka-swillers having deserted it. It left a curious feeling behind it, a feeling of mounting doom, of foreboding. The few hotel servants spoke in low tones, and shut up like clams whenever they saw him looking, just as the Army officers had done when they’d seen the MVD men during the night. It wouldn’t be safe to ask the servants any questions at this stage, even if they were likely to know the answers…
Shaw, chain-smoking away, liked things less and less.
He met Triska at one o’clock, by a big evergreen just inside the Nikolai Gate, and she looked haggard and tired but pleased to see him. She had some food with her, and she drew him farther into the gardens where they sat on the grass under a warming sun. Once they’d sat down he said, “You look a bit under the weather, Triska. Not well, I mean.”
“Oh, it is nothing. Just that I am — worried.”
He nodded. “Try and leave the worrying to me, my dear. After all,” he added with a touch of bitterness, “it’s not your country that’s going to blow up!”
She turned to him and gave him a cold, reproachful look. “That was not called for, Peter. It was not a nice thing to say, either.”
“I’m sorry,” he said penitently. “I didn’t mean it quite like that. Look, Triska. Things are hotting up.” He told her about the night’s events, then asked, “Have you noticed anything strange today?”
“Strange!” She gave a strained laugh and then glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure there was no one about, and then she went on quietly, “It’s come, Peter. What we were talking about.”
He felt very cold suddenly. “You don’t mean — for God’s sake, Triska—”
“Not that the threat has materialized, Peter, no. Not quite yet.” She moved closer to him then, and smiled at him in a curiously starry-eyed way, as if he was beginning to mean something to her personally. “I mean the extremists have come into the open, Peter.”
“That’s what I suspected. How sure are you of this?”
She said, “I am quite sure. They told us this morning, at work. Our director himself told us.”
“I see. What’s the full score, Triska?”
“The score?” She turned her face up to him, puzzled. “What’s happened, I mean?”
“Oh… yes. The Minister of Defence has taken over the Government — behind the scenes only, at the moment. But he is now in effective control. It seems that the Minister of Defence is to be our new leader. The old faces are still there to be looked at, but they will not stay there afterwards — when this thing is done, they will be liquidated.”
“Your Director didn’t tell you all that, surely?”
“No, only that there is to be a new regime. The rest I was well able to work out for myself, Peter. Your Embassy will not now be allowed to communicate with London, except on routine matters — this you must expect, because for now the West must not suspect anything. All dispatches will be very heavily censored, I imagine. Our Director said that Moltsk is itself now largely out of communication with Moscow for the time being and will remain so until things ‘settle themselves’ — that was his expression. All except official telephone-lines have been disconnected, the post offices are closed, no newspapers have come through pending a special edition of Pravda. Meanwhile we must all be prepared to declare for the new people in power. Soldiers are ready in case of trouble and they will impose martial law if necessary.” She closed her eyes and leaned against him and he felt the shaking of her body as she whispered, “Oh, Peter, it is all so terrible.”
“I know, Triska.” He squeezed her arm. “Look, why d’you think your Director told the staff at the centre when it seems that the people as a whole aren’t to know yet? I don’t get it.”
She said quietly, “If you knew Russia you would understand better. The people in Russia are simply that — the people — whatever the claims of equality we make for all of them. Do you see? We, the doctors of the research centre and others, are superior-grade citizens, in effect. We are told these things, because if we were not told we might find out for ourselves. Perhaps I do not explain very well, but—”
“That’s good enough, I get the point. God… this was all beautifully planned, wasn’t it! They must have got the right commanders posted to this area all ready to take over. Men who could be relied on to sway their troops, I suppose. Easy enough with the Defence Minister behind it, of course.” He stared into the distance for a long time and then he said quietly, “Well, it’s no good moaning, Triska. I got you here to help me. Will you?”
“Yes,” she said at once. “I told you I would, in any way you want if it helps our two countries. Tell me?”
“Right. Now, remember I told you about that air-shaft?”
“Yes, Peter.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking since… I missed a cue the other night…”
“What do you mean?”
He said slowly, “I should have gone on down when I had the chance. You see, I believe that’s one way I can get into the tunnel, in fact the only way, and I’ve got to try it.”
“But, Peter, you—”
He laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. I know already that it’s big enough to take me, and it’s only a question of sliding down. Getting out isn’t going to be easy, I know, but I’ll back myself to do it somehow. There’s nothing else for it anyway, Triska. You see, I’ve got to know what’s in the tunnel — that’s vital, it’s the hub of the whole thing. Now, there are some things I’ll want, and it’d be safer if you made the purchases for me, even though what I want are men’s articles — clothing and so on.” He added, “You can say you want ’em for your cousin if anyone does ask…”