Assignment - Suicide (22 page)

“Naturally.”

“Yet you let Mikhail kill him?”

“You are wasting time. Do you want to die here?”

Durell took Valya’s hand. The girl looked exhausted. Her shoulders
drooped and her fingers were cold in his. Durell moved at a sharp gesture
of Kronev’s gun and walked down the slope on the faint trail that led back to
the dugout. The two MVD men followed Kronev with caution.

“If you value your life," Kronev suggested quietly,
“you will cooperate with me by making no sound whatever. Do you understand?”

“Why don’t you just shoot us right here?”

“My orders advise other measures.”

“Where did you come from? You weren’t in the limousine.”

“Be quiet and walk. Quickly, now!”

It was silent in the woods, at odds with the sounds of the battle
just passed. Durell drew a deep breath and tried to clear his head. Success had
come only through Mikhail’s suicidal effort. Mikhail must have known that his
attack on Sergei Zadanelev meant instant death. He must have known that
Gregori’s plan for ambush and assassination would fail otherwise. Probably he
would never find out why Vassili and Elena were delayed in beginning
their attack. Everything had gone wrong, yet the end was finally
accomplished by a man Durell had considered n coward and traitor. He looked
sidewise at Valya. She was walking with stunned eyes that saw nothing. He put
his arm around her to support her, but she seemed to be unaware of his touch.

There came a distant shouting through the woods and the sounds
of men floundering in the swamp. Kronev’s two men looked uneasy. Kronev held
up a hand and they halted, waiting and listening. The noises passed behind
them, proceeding to the ledge they had just left.

"Very good,” Kronev said. “We can move faster now.”

“I thought you were taking us to the missile base,” Durell said.

“No.”

“I don’t understand. You could have saved Zadanelev, and you
didn’t do it. By all the rules, you could have shot me down the moment you saw
me. But you didn’t. And you addressed me by name, so you know who I really am.”

“Yes, all those things are true, Mr. Durell."

“You also speak English, which you pretended not to know
before.”

“You will learn all things in good time. We must hurry now."

“Where are we going?”

“To Moscow, if we live,” Kronev said.

They passed the dugout a hundred feet to the south of the entrance.
Perhaps Kronev knew nothing about it. The MVD man turned sharply left,
downhill, and the way led along a narrow path through the swamps. It was an
hour before noon, and the day was hot. Insects hummed and animal life
flickered and chattered through the misty green of the wilderness. They
walked for twenty minutes in absolute silence, although now and then they heard
faint sounds of pursuit and search behind them. There was a grim, panic haste
in the way Kronev pushed them on. Durell was content to ask no more questions
now, although he still did not see why Kronev had not shot them on the spot.
Perhaps a farcical spy trial was in the making. Still, for the moment he was
grateful just to be alive.

They came to a narrow rutted road in the wilderness and Kronev
signaled them to hurry along it to the north.

“I can’t go faster,” Valya gasped.

“Citizeness, if you wish to live, you will,” Kronev snapped.

Durell put an arm around her. She tried to smile at him, but
the gesture was wan and distorted. “I am sorry, Sam.”

“I’ll help you. Do you understand what is happening?"

“No."

The rutted road suddenly became a highway, and a Pobeda was
parked nearby in the brush. Another uniformed MVD man came out of a hiding
place and saluted Kronev and murmured a few words to the stout man that Durell
did not catch. Then they were hustled into the car and they rolled off, heading
away from the missile base.

There won’t. be an explosion, anyway, Durell thought. He sank
back on the cushioned seat of the car beside Valya. His legs trembled slightly.

Kronev sat up front with the driver and another agent was
cramped on the seat opposite Valya. No gins were in evidence. No further force
or persuasion was used. Valya sat with her head back, eyes closed, her face
stamped with resignation. Durell did not speak to her.

They passed a check point and barricade on the road, where
Kronev impatiently waved a paper that caused the guards to snap back and
salute. Forty minutes after leaving the swamp, the Pobeda turned into a rough
but serviceable airfield. There was a camouflaged hangar and a long
concrete ramp that sliced through the fields beyond, and Durell glimpsed
several MIG-17’s glittering in the shadows of the hangar as they drove up. A
Dakota-type transport with the Soviet red star on the fuselage and the
lettering
CCCP
on the tail was
warming up on the runway. The Pobeda turned directly to it.

Durell paused at the little ramp and faced Kronev squarely.
“I want to know what this is about. If you’re taking me back to Moscow for
trial, I want to know it. If I am under arrest, say so.”

“You are not under arrest, Mr. Durell,” Kronev said quietly.
“Please board the plane with Miss Hvalna.”

“Suppose we refuse?”

“I assure you that would not be in your best interests. You
are an embarrassment to us, you understand. The less publicity given this
matter, the better. Do you understand that?”

“Who are you working for, Kronev?"

“My government. Only that,” Kronev said simply. “I will explain
when we are aboard. We should be in Moscow by three this afternoon. The parades
in Red Square will still be marching by the reviewing stand.”

Durell followed Valya into the plane. There were only rough
bucket seats for them, and the pilot was an anonymous, helmeted figure
glimpsed through the forward cabin door. Kronev wont in there and the two MVD
shadows took seats in the rear section. Durell sat down beside Valya as the
motors roared and the plane trembled. Two minutes after arriving at the
airfield, they were winging through the bright azure sky to the east.

He spoke gently to Valya. “You must not think too much about
those who died. They expected to die. In a way, it is what they wanted. And
their mission was accomplished.”

“I am thinking of Mikhail," she said. Her eyes were lowered.
“He died because he loved me, to prove he was not a coward. The others were my
friends. It is not easy to wipe them from my mind with a shrug. With you it is
a professional matter, and you might argue that I, too, lived with death and
killing all my life. But l had hoped for better things. For peace and dignity
and safety.” She studied her hands, twisted in her lap. “Please don’t stare at me,
Sam.”

“Why not? I like to look at you.”

“I am in rags.” She drew a deep breath. “I wish I could understand
what all this is about. I feel as if the bottom of the world has dropped out,
and yet we are here, peacefully flying back to Moscow.”

Kronev came down the aisle between the empty bucket seats.
They had the plane to themselves. Kronev had a small straw suitcase which he
put down on the seat opposite him with a sigh and then took a pack of
cigarettes and offered them to Valya and Durell. They were American cigarettes.

Kronev cleared his throat. “This is embarrassing, Mr. Durell.
Undoubtedly you seek a meaning in my actions. You understand that at
first I was devoted to Comrade Zadanelev and his ambitions.”

“And now you are not?” Durell asked.

“My first loyalty always has been to the Soviet Union.
I know you do not have my equivalent of secret police in your country and you
do not think highly of my functions. A study of our history would show you that
We were necessary in the evolution of our system from Czarist times.” Kronev waved
a pudgy hand. “But I will not bore you with political discussions. The only
fact that interests you is that my loyalty is not to Comrade Zadanelev but to
the broadening base of our democratic government. I, too, suffered in the last
days of Stalin. I, too, never want to see those days again. So it was never in
my mind to permit Zadanelev to take that first step in his plan to seize
power through war and internal police coups that war would bring."

“So you double-crossed Zadanelev by letting Gregori’s underground
outfit kill him."

“I understand it was Mikhail who killed his uncle. We were
watching you, Mr. Durell, although you did not know it. Every hour you waited
to spring the trap, we watched you. You acted wisely. We are aware of every
shot you fired.”

“Then you know where I placed those bullets."

“If you had killed a Red Army man, my attitude would be
different, and you would not be alive at this moment. However, you accepted the
responsibility of being a foreigner here. I understand how you were trapped
into joining Gregori. And I saw where your bullets went.”

“And?” Durell asked.

“We are embarrassed. Naturally, it would be simple to make
you just disappear. You know much about our domestic difficulties that could
damage us in international spheres. Unfortunately for us, your contact with
Johnny McPadd went through to Alex Holbrook at your Embassy. Mr. Holbrook knows
almost as much about our difficulties today as you. You understand, in Moscow
at this moment, our Politburo members are anxiously waiting for word of what
has happened. They were aware of Zadanelev’s ambition, of course. And they
feared him. I have radioed a message that will be delivered to the Premier at
the reviewing stand, to ease his mind. It has been an unusual May Day for the
Soviet Union, Mr. Durell. One of great tension and anxiety.”

“I think I understand.”

“I hope so. We are strong enough now so that mistakes can be
acknowledged and a little internal dissension does us no damage internationally.
It was decided that whatever you know about it will be evidence of our strength
rather than our weakness.”

Durell said dryly, “Considering how it came out, you mean.“

“If Mikhail had not killed Comrade Z, I would have done so,”
Kronev said flatly. “And I would not have failed.”

Durell found himself revising his estimate of the man. Kronev
was neither a sadist nor a fool. His intelligent eyes were amused and calm as
their glances met.

Durell said, “So I am an embarrassment to your government,
but you are not disturbed by what I have seen and done. And especially since my
Embassy is aware of everything, anyway, and is undoubtedly asking about me.”

“You are without rights here,” Kronev said. “Your Embassy
cannot make official inquiries, considering your occupation with the CIA
and the illegal entry you made into the Soviet Union for espionage. These are
high crimes, Mr. Durell, punishable by death. But things have changed here and attitudes
are different. We could either imprison you for life, shoot you at once, or
simply turn you loose and see that you are out of the country by nightfall.”

Durell drew a deep breath. “And which will it be?”

“Everything has been arranged. You will board the regular
Aeroflot flight for Stockholm at Vnoukovo Airport at five
o’clock this evening.”

Durell felt a tremendous release of tension inside him.
 
“So your people are not afraid of what I
might report back to Washington?"

“We are quite happy to have you report whatever you have
seen. We are proud of it, as a matter of fact. It establishes our internal
strength and stability. We are not afraid of what you know. We are sure the
correct interpretation will be placed upon this incident. We prefer to have
Washington know fully how secure our government is. That is what has been
decided in Moscow. Your passport is ready at the Metropole Hotel, and you will
be permitted twenty minutes with Alex Holbrook there. Then you will be escorted
to Vnoukovo.” Kronev tapped a fat finger on Durell’s knee. “You are
lucky. If you are wise, I shall never see you again. A bullet will be waiting
for you if you ever come back to the Soviet Union."

“Thanks. There’s just one thing, however."

Kronev lifted dark brows. “Yes?”

“I want a passport for Miss Hvalna, too. She leaves with me."

Kronev‘s face changed. Surprise gave way to dangerous anger.
“Impossible! Miss Hvalna is a Soviet citizen. She has committed certain crimes
which we may overlook, after we have talked thoroughly with her. But she cannot
leave Russia. Besides—” Kronev leaned forward to stare at Valya. “Is he telling
the truth? Do you wish to desert us?”

Valya looked at her hands in her lap. “It is what I asked “You
would leave the Soviet Union?” Kronev asked incredulously.

“I wanted to.”

“You speak as if it were a past wish. Do you want to
now?"

“What will happen to me here?" she asked
fiercely. “Will I be shot? Will I be tried for the guards I fired
at back there? You don’t fool me! I know what you will do to me!”

Kronev said again, “Impossible. It cannot be done.”

Durell said: “Either Miss Hvalna leaves with me, or there is
no deal.”

“Deal? Do you imply there is a bargain here? You have nothing
to bargain with! You are lucky to be alive!”

“I promised Valya I would take her safely to the United States.
I intend to keep that promise."

Kronev looked astonished, then he laughed and shook his head.
“You Americans! You have the nerve to pretend you can bargain. Instead of being
grateful for your life, you begin to make terms. It is beyond my comprehension.
There are no terms. Miss Hvalna stays here.”

Durell said, “My grandfather was a genius at cards. He was a
gambler to his bones, an honest gambler, who knew all the percentages and used
his wits to win consistently. I was raised by him, Citizen Kronev. He taught me
all he knew. He taught me to be honest when I gambled, but he also taught me
everything that was crooked about every game, to protect myself. I learned the
gambling trick along with the odds. You have seen most of my hand, Citizen
Kronev. But I have a card up my sleeve. Would you like to see it now?”