Assignment - Suicide (12 page)

“Now, American,” Gregori said. “We have broken bread
together. We are comrades. We desire the same thing,
nyet
? We both desire peace."

“I won‘t meddle in your murder plot," Durell said.

“That would not be necessary. All we ask for is the map. You
have hidden it, but we know it is somewhere in this house. We do not have much
time. Plans and arrangements are all settled for our trip. But we need the map.
If you are stubborn, you will suffer.”

Durell said nothing.

Gregori folded his big, square peasant’s hands on the table.
“Tell me, you like Valya, eh?”

“She is a fine girl.”

“You could have escaped, but you came back in to help
her."

Durell shrugged.

Gregori’s thick, beetling brows frowned. “Chivalry is a
trait of Western culture. We are not weakened by such an idealistic heritage. I
know you are a strong man,
gospodin
. I could torture you in many ways. I have had
experience with torture. I was imprisoned in Liubyanka during the last purge, and
I was questioned many times. I remember all the refinements they used. I
could use them on you. Will you tell me where the map is and save yourself pain
and save me much annoyance?”

“No,” Durell said.

Gregori looked at Valya. “It is a pity."

“Leave her alone,” Durell said.

“She is not as strong as you,
gospodin
."

“She doesn’t know where the map is.”

“Naturally. But you will tell us if we transfer our
attentions to Valya for a time. I think perhaps you are in love with her,
gospodin
."

Durell looked straight at her. “No,” he said.

Her face told him nothing except of her pain.

“You are chivalrous," Gregori went on. “You would not
sit here and let me hurt her without speaking up. Come, now. Give us the map.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we go about our business.”

“And will you release Valya and me?”

Gregori frowned. “After it is over. Otherwise, you would go
at once to your Embassy. That is obvious. You will have to stay with us until
our mission is completed. It will be easy. I am a fine marksman. I never miss.
We know that Comrade Z will personally discharge the first missile. We
have reliable information about his vanity and his sense of the dramatic. He
will travel to one of the missile bases with his bodyguard and he must be
killed before he gets there. It is simple,‘ after all. When he is dead, you
will he released.”

“I don’t want any part of it,” Durell said again.

But you have no choice. You accepted your cards when you
came to this country. Valya tells me you were a professional gambler. I know
poker, too. I learned it from an American from San Francisco. The game is, as
you would say‘, one of dealer‘s choice. And I am the dealer.”

“If you hurt Valya, Mikhail will have to be answered to,”
Durell said.

Gregori looked at his huge hands. “Mikhail is no problem.”

“Tell me,” Durell said. “Have you no idea who Comrade Z is?”

“None."

“But he is in your government?”

“That much is obvious. He is one of the present hierarchy,
we are sure. But not Kolyoshin. Kolyoshin is ostensibly in charge of the
missile development program, but there is much secrecy about these military
matters. Besides, I know Kolyoshin, myself. He is a man of peace. He has no
ambitions for himself. No, our man is one who wants to be the big boss. another
Stalin.”

“Perhaps he is the head of the MVD.”

“Drugalovsky? No."

“Surely Comrade Z has further plans that will develop from
the beginning of a war."

"Surely. To some extent, we know what they are. In a
state of emergency, in war and holocaust, he will almost certainly achieve
control and get what he wants. We are after a man of steel, you understand, a
man with no human compassion, one who will sacrifice the lives of
millions of our own people as well as yours—we are well aware of your plans for
retaliation if you are attacked—but human misery can mean nothing to such a
man.”

“Listen to me," Durell said earnestly. “We can talk,
you and I. We understand each other. Think of my plan to go to my Embassy. It
is better than killing. If you assassinate Comrade Z, surely another will take
his place.”

"We can handle any others in the same way.”

“If you went to Kolyoshin or Drugalovsky—"

"They are both frightened men.”

“Do they know what may happen?”

“Suspicion is everywhere. You do not understand. Forces have
been unleashed here by Stalin’s death. Matters are in a state of flux.
Death is threatened to everyone in high places. There may be much talk on the
international level about our collective leadership, but underneath there are
insane tensions and fears. Anything can happen.” Gregori spread his hands.
“Look here. Marshall promised us the map. It is marked with the ring of missile
bases that face the West from the Arctic Circle to the Black Sea. One of them
is circled in red. That is the base Comrade Z will use to fire the first
missile.” Gregori sighed. “We ourselves were unable to learn this. But Marshall
was successful. You see how necessary it is for us to have the map in order to
know just where to ambush Comrade Z on the proper day.”

"If you do ambush him, how will you be sure that you
have identified him correctly?”

“There will be no mistake.”

“But how will you know if you don‘t really know who he
is?"

Mikhail came back into the house. His eyes were tense,
sliding from Valya to Durell. He turned finally to Gregori.

“
Luganoff
is coming. They will be
here in five minutes.”

“So.” Gregori drew a deep breath. “Our American will not
give us the map, It is my theory he will do it if we ask Valya. Do you
understand?"

Mikhail’s mouth opened and closed. He began to sweat.

“Do you understand, Mikhail?"

“Yes, but—”

“We have only five minutes. He has it hidden in this
house. If we leave here and take him with us, he will have won. Do you object
if we—if we make him watch what we do to Valya?”

Mikhail rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “All right. Go
ahead. I will stay outside.”

Durell felt despair settle over him. He spoke quietly. “It
will not be necessary, Mikhail. You can have the map.”

Valya said, “Do not consider me, Sam. Please.”

Elena slapped her hand hard across Valya’s face. The blow
was like a pistol shot. The deep cut in Valya’s swollen cheek began to bleed
again. Nobody moved. Nobody objected.

Durell shook his head. “'The map is behind the ikon,"
he said. He nodded toward the little ivory piece in the corner niche of the
room. “I put it there last night. It will show you where to go to commit your
murder.”

Chapter Eleven

THE TUG and the string of barges were almost abreast of the
dacha
when Gregori signaled from under
the willows on the shore. The tug stopped, diesel idling, its screw barely
maintaining headway against the push of the current. Vassili hid Valya’s car
and his own behind the house while Elena went through the rooms, wiping away fingerprints,
cleaning up all trace of their presence. The little group worked smoothly as a
compact unit. Mikhail, with the P.38 in his hand, stood guard over Durell and
Valya.

The day was warm, and from across the muddy waters of the
river came the smells of spring on the land and the woods beyond the outskirts
of the city. The weather had changed sharply for the better.

There were three men in the crew of the tug, but the outfit
was captained by a hurly woman with short gray hair and a face like a bulldog.
Neither the woman nor the elderly members of the crew paid any attention to
Durell and Valya when they came aboard from the rowboat sent ashore. No
conversation was permitted after a sharp order from the
 
woman captain when Durell began to speak to
one of the men at work in the stern. He sat on the deck beside Valya in the
warm spring sun, looking aft at the string of steel barges behind them. The
cargo of the barges was covered by heavy tarpaulins. The tug was powerful
despite its battered appearance, and the diesel engines pulsed steadily at a
fast rhythm when they got under way again.

Elena went into the captain’s cabin with Vassili and
remained there.
 
Mikhail stood nearby on
the stern deck in the sunlight, his face pale as he looked at Valya. Gregori
stood guard With the P.38 now hooked in his broad leather belt.

"Are you all right?” Durell asked the girl quietly in
English.

Valya nodded slowly. “I have been hurt worse before.”

"Tell me, who is Elena?"

“She is the leader of our shock unit.” She touched her
swollen face. “Elena did not have to do that to me."

“She thought you were going to help me escape.”

“That's what I was trying to do."

“I thought you had betrayed me when I woke up and found
Gregori at my throat. I was sure you had called them. I’m sorry, Valya."

“But you had every right to suspect me. My job was to try to
tempt you off guard so I could get the map from you. I tried, did I not?”

Durell grinned. “And you almost succeeded.”

“I wish I had. I wish, last night, we had understood each
other just a little better." She turned her battered face toward the sun.
“The weather is good. The winter was very cruel. I could sit in the sun all
day, forever, like this with you.”

“How much time do we have?”

“Not more than two days. The missile attack is scheduled for
May Day, at noon.” Her hand touched his as they sat together on the deck; she
leaned against the bulkhead of the tug’s cabin. “You were right. I should have
helped you reach your Embassy last night. It is not that I Want to betray these
people. They are my friends—-Vassili and Gregori. I never liked Elena. She is
too cruel. But you must understand them, and when you do you will forgive them.
Life has been hard for all of us.”

“Will you help me if we get a chance to escape?” he asked.

She looked at him with a clear gaze. “I will do anything you
ask, Sam. I trust you now. I was a fool last night."

“Not altogether,” he said gently. Her hand was cold and
trembling slightly in his. “Perhaps now we can help each other.”

“It is too late. They will hold us hostage until Z is
killed.”

“Do you think Gregori will release us then? Or will he kill
us to insure our silence?"

She shivered in the warm sun. “He will kill us,“ she said
quietly.

Mikhail suddenly pushed away from the tug‘s rail on the
stern and stood in front of Durell and Valya. “You will stop talking in
English.” His thin face was clouded with anger. “Valya, come with me. I want to
talk to you.”

“I prefer to stay here,” she said with a lift of her head.

"Are you angry with me, Valya?” Mikhail asked.

“No. Not angry.”

“Disappointed, then?"

“In a way. Yes."

“I could not stop Elena. You understand that,” he said
earnestly. “Surely you know I would never have let her hurt you as she did if I
could have prevented it.“

“You did nothing whatever to help me.”

"Please. I cannot talk in front of this foreigner. Come
with me where we can talk alone.”

“No.” Mikhail looked at Durell with flat eyes. “Leave
her,
gospodin
.
Go below.”

“I prefer to stay here, too,” Durell said quietly.

“Do as you are ordered!”

“I think Valya prefers my company to yours, Mikhail."

Durell stood up with a quick, fluid movement. “Stop
bothering her. She doesn’t want anything more to do with you.”

Mikhail turned white with anger. His eyes were pale, opaque
with mute rage. Corded muscles jumped and wriggled along the line of his jaw.
Mikhail slid a sidewise glance at Gregori‘s barrel-like figure leaning
indolently on the rail.

“Gregorivitch, you are in command here." His voice
trembled. “This American is our prisoner. Does he obey orders or not?"

“You have lost your sense of perspective, Miko,” Gregori
rumbled. “Leave the girl alone. What the American says is true—Valya prefers
his company to yours. As for his being our prisoner, let us say, rather, that
he is our guest for the next few days.“

Mikhail’s hearing was uncertain for a moment, then he turned
on his heel and went forward along the tug’s deck to vanish into the cabin.
Gregori grinned. His dark unshaven jaws glinted blue in the warm sunlight. He
wore a heavy leather jacket, open to his belt. His eyes were friendly.

“Keep an eye on your back, American. He is not too stable
emotionally.”

Durell said: “Where are we going?"

“You will see when you get there. I would much prefer not to
have to watch you. I would like your word that you will not try to escape. A
sort of parole, if you will."

“No.”

“You are stubborn.”

“I’m not your guest. Let‘s not play with words. I‘m a
prisoner.”

“Would you prefer to be a prisoner of the MVD, in Liubyanka?
The sun is not so warm there. The air is not so pleasant.”

“If I can escape from you, I will do so,” Durell said.

Gregori’s small eyes under his beetling brows touched Valya.
“And you,
doragaya
?
Will you help our American friend?”

“If I can," she whispered.

“You were in the war?” Durell asked.

The burly Russian nodded. “I was a captain in the Infantry. We
fought before Moscow that winter, and later we advanced on Rzhev. That was
after the German defense was smashed in the Kokeshkino region. One of our
armies advanced to Vyazma, and we drove southwest with our tanks through a
three-mile corridor in the enemy lines. But the Germans closed the point of our
breakthrough and cut us off. We had no food, no arms, no ammunition. And no
hope. We were pounded by Stukas, shells and shrapnel. We ate our dead horses. I
escaped with two other men, Borka and Alyesha. You remember them, Valya?”