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Authors: Edward S. Aarons
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toward Red Square. He
was relieved to be separated from Mikhail by a trick of fate that placed them
in different cars at the airport. He could control the girl. She had lost much
of her inherited enmity toward him. He had the feeling she had been trying to
understand him from the moment of their first meeting, and he knew enough
about women to consider without egotism the possibility that she was interested
in him as a man. There were little nuances in the things she did that betrayed
her. His own feelings were mixed, but she was beautiful and he had never
retreated from a beautiful woman.
“You are determined to go to the Embassy?” she asked as they
waited for a traffic light to change.
“Right now,” he said.
“Could we not have dinner first? l am very hungry, and
there an Uzbek restaurant nearby, just
off Arbat Ulitza.”
“You don‘t have to some with me now, Valya.”
“I understand that. You do not need me anymore, and you have
Marshall‘s map. Part of the bargain was that you turn it over to us.”
“I need it to convince the Embassy people my story is
true."
“And do you think they will believe you?”
“They know I am the
country. They’re waiting to learn what Marshall discovered on his mission
here."
“‘You will never got to the Embassy," Valya said. “You
will see." She paused to look up at him, her face somewhat innocent perturbed. “Kronev has not been idle today.
Do not do anything foolish, I beg you. They will kill you.”
“Are you concerned for me?”
“Promise you will not take any foolish chances."
“I think we had better part company now,“ he said. “It will
be better for you if you aren’t seen with me now.”
“I will go part of the way with you. I know l cannot stop
you. It was a mistake for us to trust Marshall. It was a mistake to believe
that you would help us, too. Sukinin died for nothing.”
“But I am helping you in the best way I know. I don’t want
any part of assassinations. It’s not my job to interfere in your internal
problems. I just want my country to be safe."
He walked faster now, along Arbat Ulitza. He knew the way to
Spasso House, and he did not ‘talk to Valya anymore. The choice of coming with
him or going on her own was hers. He knew she could probably summon help from
her own people to try to stop him. Perhaps she already had. He was sure that
Mikhail was trying to do that at this moment. His whole plan depended on moving
faster than the others, in being sure and decisive in his actions.
The girl walked with him in silence, her hands thrust into
the pockets of her coat as she matched his long stride through the darkening
streets.
Durell had slept a little on the plane, but it had been a
watchful dozing, and he felt the drag of exhaustion in his muscles as he slowed
his pace near the white loom of the Embassy building. The street was wide and
quiet, with a little park across from Spasso House, an old residence of French
style flanking the huge estate. He felt irritated at Valya for her
insistence on coming with him. Her meek surrender to his decision to go to the
Embassy did not delude him. There was an opaque reserve in her eyes, a sense of
patient, expectant waiting.
“Be careful,” she said at last. “We are being watched. Do
not cross the street here; walk to the next corner." She tucked her hand
in his arm and laughed so that her laughter could be heard along the broad
sidewalk, as if he had said something very amusing. She spoke loudly to him
about a play being presented at the Bolshoi Theatre.
“Where are they?" Durell asked, his lips thin.
"In that doorway. And here. As we go by.”
The width of Arbat Street was peculiarly deserted compared
to the avenues they had crossed. It was as if the American building were
deliberately shunned by the local citizenry which was probably true, Durell
thought wryly, since it was dangerous for the ordinary Soviet man to be associated
with any Westerner. They passed the
was relieved to be separated from Mikhail by a trick of fate that placed them
in different cars at the airport. He could control the girl. She had lost much
of her inherited enmity toward him. He had the feeling she had been trying to
understand him from the moment of their first meeting, and he knew enough
about women to consider without egotism the possibility that she was interested
in him as a man. There were little nuances in the things she did that betrayed
her. His own feelings were mixed, but she was beautiful and he had never
retreated from a beautiful woman.
“You are determined to go to the Embassy?” she asked as they
waited for a traffic light to change.
“Right now,” he said.
“Could we not have dinner first? l am very hungry, and
there an Uzbek restaurant nearby, just
off Arbat Ulitza.”
“You don‘t have to some with me now, Valya.”
“I understand that. You do not need me anymore, and you have
Marshall‘s map. Part of the bargain was that you turn it over to us.”
“I need it to convince the Embassy people my story is
true."
“And do you think they will believe you?”
“They know I am the
country. They’re waiting to learn what Marshall discovered on his mission
here."
“‘You will never got to the Embassy," Valya said. “You
will see." She paused to look up at him, her face somewhat innocent perturbed. “Kronev has not been idle today.
Do not do anything foolish, I beg you. They will kill you.”
“Are you concerned for me?”
“Promise you will not take any foolish chances."
“I think we had better part company now,“ he said. “It will
be better for you if you aren’t seen with me now.”
“I will go part of the way with you. I know l cannot stop
you. It was a mistake for us to trust Marshall. It was a mistake to believe
that you would help us, too. Sukinin died for nothing.”
“But I am helping you in the best way I know. I don’t want
any part of assassinations. It’s not my job to interfere in your internal
problems. I just want my country to be safe."
He walked faster now, along Arbat Ulitza. He knew the way to
Spasso House, and he did not ‘talk to Valya anymore. The choice of coming with
him or going on her own was hers. He knew she could probably summon help from
her own people to try to stop him. Perhaps she already had. He was sure that
Mikhail was trying to do that at this moment. His whole plan depended on moving
faster than the others, in being sure and decisive in his actions.
The girl walked with him in silence, her hands thrust into
the pockets of her coat as she matched his long stride through the darkening
streets.
Durell had slept a little on the plane, but it had been a
watchful dozing, and he felt the drag of exhaustion in his muscles as he slowed
his pace near the white loom of the Embassy building. The street was wide and
quiet, with a little park across from Spasso House, an old residence of French
style flanking the huge estate. He felt irritated at Valya for her
insistence on coming with him. Her meek surrender to his decision to go to the
Embassy did not delude him. There was an opaque reserve in her eyes, a sense of
patient, expectant waiting.
“Be careful,” she said at last. “We are being watched. Do
not cross the street here; walk to the next corner." She tucked her hand
in his arm and laughed so that her laughter could be heard along the broad
sidewalk, as if he had said something very amusing. She spoke loudly to him
about a play being presented at the Bolshoi Theatre.
“Where are they?" Durell asked, his lips thin.
"In that doorway. And here. As we go by.”
The width of Arbat Street was peculiarly deserted compared
to the avenues they had crossed. It was as if the American building were
deliberately shunned by the local citizenry which was probably true, Durell
thought wryly, since it was dangerous for the ordinary Soviet man to be associated
with any Westerner. They passed the
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