Paul Koslov gaped at her. "You mean your position is known to the
police?"
Shvernik said, "Thus far he has kept the information to himself. He
found out when Ana tried to enlist his services."
Paul's eyes went from one to the other of them in disbelief. "Enlist his
services? How do you know he hasn't spilled everything? What do you mean
he's kept the information to himself so far?"
Ana said, her voice so low as to be hardly heard, "He's my older
brother. I'm his favorite sister. How much longer he will keep our
secret I don't know. Under the circumstances, I can think of no answer
except that he be eliminated."
It came to Paul Koslov that the team on this side could be just as
dedicated as he was to his own particular cause.
He said, "A Colonel Furtseva at the Soviet Embassy in Stockholm. Very
well. A Hungarian refugee will probably be best. If he's caught, the
reason for the killing won't point in your direction."
"Yes," Ana said, her sensitive mouth twisting. "In fact, Anastas was in
Budapest during the suppression there in 1956. He participated."
* * * * *
The dacha of Leonid Shvernik was in the vicinity of Petrodvorets on the
Gulf of Finland, about eighteen miles from Leningrad proper. It would
have been called a summer bungalow in the States. On the rustic side.
Three bedrooms, a moderately large living-dining room, kitchen, bath,
even a car port. Paul Koslov took a mild satisfaction in deciding that
an American in Shvernik's equivalent job could have afforded more of a
place than this.
Shvernik was saying, "I hope it never gets to the point where you have
to go on the run. If it does, this house is a center of our activities.
At any time you can find clothing here, weapons, money, food. Even a
small boat on the waterfront. It would be possible, though difficult, to
reach Finland."
"Right," Paul said. "Let's hope there'll never be occasion."
Inside, they sat around a small table, over the inevitable bottle of
vodka and cigarettes, and later coffee.
Shvernik said, "Thus far we've rambled around hurriedly on a dozen
subjects but now we must become definite."
Paul nodded.
"You come to us and say you represent the West and that you wish to help
overthrow the Soviets. Fine. How do we know you do not actually
represent the KGB or possibly the MVD?"
Paul said, "I'll have to prove otherwise by actions." He came to his
feet and, ignoring Ana, pulled out his shirt tail, unbuttoned the top
two buttons of his pants and unbuckled the money belt beneath.
He said, "We have no idea what items you'll be wanting from us in the
way of equipment, but as you said earlier all revolutions need money. So
here's the equivalent of a hundred thousand American dollars--in rubles,
of course." He added apologetically, "The smallness of the amount is due
to bulk. Your Soviet money doesn't come in sufficiently high
denominations for a single person to carry really large amounts."
He tossed the money belt to the table, rearranged his clothing and
returned to his chair.
Shvernik said, "A beginning, but I am still of the opinion that we
should not introduce you to any other members of the organization until
we have more definite proof of your background."
"That's reasonable," Paul agreed. "Now what else?"
Shvernik scowled at him. "You claim you are an American but you speak as
good Russian as I do."
"I was raised in America," Paul said, "but I never became a citizen
because of some minor technicality while I was a boy. After I reached
adulthood and first began working for the government, it was decided
that it might be better, due to my type of specialization, that I
continue to remain legally not an American."
"But actually you are Russian?"
"I was born here in Leningrad," Paul said evenly.