“Sure. Where are you going?”

“Flintridge. It’s out Connecticut, Rock Creek Park area.”

“I know where it is.” He glanced at his watch. “If you can wait ten minutes, I can run you out.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble…”

“No trouble. I go off duty, and I’m going that way.”

“All right, then. Thank you.”

“You can wait for me at the main entrance,” Clybourne said. He took a memo pad bearing the White House seal from his pocket and scribbled on it, then took a small triangular pin from another pocket. “Put that in your lapel, and keep this pass,” he said. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.” He smiled again, and she found herself answering.

General Narovchatov paused at the door and waited to be invited inside even though Nadya had told him that Comrade Chairman Petrovskiy was expecting him. Petrovskiy did not like surprises.

The Chairman was writing in a small notebook. Narovchatov waited patiently.

The office was spartan in comparison to his own. Petrovskiy seemed not to notice things like rugs and tapestries and paintings. He enjoyed rare books with rich leather bindings and was fond of very old cognac; otherwise he did not often indulge himself.

There had been a time when Nikolai Nikolayevich Narovchatov was concerned that it would be dangerous to enjoy the trappings of wealth and power while the Chairman so obviously did not. He still believed that in the early days that concern had not been misplaced; but as Narovchatov rose in status, the gifts sent him by Petrovskiy had become more numerous and more valuable, until it was obvious that Petrovskiy was encouraging his old associate to indulge himself, to enjoy what he did not himself care for.

Narovchatov had never discussed this with Chairman Petrovskiy. It was enough that it was so.

Chairman Petrovskiy looked up. His welcoming smile was broad. “Come in, come in.” Then he grimaced. “I suppose it was not a joke. They continue to come, then?” He lifted his glass of tea and peered at Narovchatov over its rim.

“Da, Anatoliy Vladimirovich.” General Namvchatov shrugged. “According to the astronomers, at this point it would be difficult for them not to come. The rocket forces will be brought to full strength, and we are anticipating their arrival. They move toward us very fast.”

“And they arrive, when?”

“A few weeks. I am told it is difficult to be more precise because it is a powered ship. That makes it unpredictable.”

“And you continue to believe that this is an alien ship, and not more CIA tricks?”

“I do, Anatoliy Vladimirovich.”

“So, I think, do I. But the Army does not.”

Narovchatov nodded. He had expected nothing else. And that could be a great problem for a man who had no need of more problems. The Chairman looked old and tired. Too old, Narovchatov thought. And what might happen when … Perhaps the Chairman had read his thoughts. “It is long past time that you were promoted, Nikolai Nikolayevich, my friend. I wish you to have the post of First Secretary. We will elevate Comrade Mayarovin to the Politburo, where he can rust in honor.”

“It is not necessary.”

“It is. Especially now. Nikolai Nikolayevich, I have long hoped to be the first leader of the Soviet Union to retire with honor. One day, perhaps, I will, but not until I can give the post to someone worthy. You are the most loyal man I know.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed. It is truth. But, my friend, I may not be with you so long. The doctors tell me this.”

“Nonsense.”

“That it is not. But before I am gone, I hope to see us accomplish something never before done. To give this land stability, to allow its best to serve without fear of their lives.”

The czars had never done that. Not the czars, and not Lenin. This was Russia. “That requires law, Anatoliy Vladimirovich. Bourgeois lands have law. We have—” He shrugged expressively. “We have had terror. It is not enough. You will remember little of Stalin’s time, but I recall. Khrushchev destroyed himself in trying to destroy Stalin’s memory, and we shall never make that mistake; but Khrushchev was correct, that man was a monster, Even Lenin warned against him.”

“He did what was necessary,” Narovchatov said.

“As do we. As will we. Enough of this. What shall we do about this alien spacecraft?”

Narovchatov shrugged, “The Army has begun mobilization, constructing new space weapons.” He frowned. “I do not yet know what the Americans will do.”

“Nor I,” the Chairman said. “I suppose they will do the same.”

I hope so, Narovchatov thought. If they do not… There were always young officers who would begin the war if they thought they could win it. On both sides. “Also, we have warned the commander of Kosmograd. I scarcely know what else to do.”

“We must do more,” the Chairman said. “What will these aliens want? What could bring them here, across billions of miles? If they are aliens at all, and not a CIA trick.”

This again? “Such a trick would make our space program look like children’s games. It is alien, and powered. I would believe a spacegoing beast with a rocket up its arse before I thought it a CIA trick. But I think it must be a ship, Anatoliy Vladintirovich.”

“I do agree,” the Chairman said. “Only I cannot believe what I believe. It is too hard for me! What do they want? No one would travel that far merely to explore. They have reasons for coming.”

“They must. But I do not know why they have come.”

“No, nor will we, until they are ready to tell us. We know too little of this.” Petrovskiy speared Narovchatov with a peasant’s crafty look. “Your daughter has married a space scientist. An intelligent man, your son-in-law. Intelligent enough to be loyal. Intelligent enough to understand what your promotion to First Secretary will mean to him.

“Someone must command the space preparations. Who?”

He means something, Narovchatov thought. Always he means things he does not say. He is clever, always clever, but sometimes he is too clever, for I do not understand him.

Who should command? The news of the alien ship had brought something like panic to the Kremlin. Everyone was upset, and the delicate balance within the Politburo was endangered. Who could command? Narovchatov shrugged. “I had assumed Marshal Ugatov.”

“Certainly the Army will have suggestions. We will listen to them. As we do to KGB.” The Chairman continued to look thoughtful.

What is his plan? Narovchatov thought. The meeting of the Defense Council is in an hour. The heads of the Army and the KGB. The chief Party theoretician, Chairman Petrovskiy, and me because Petrovskiy has named me his associate. At that meeting everything will be settled, then comes the meeting of the entire Politburo, and after that the Central Committee to endorse what we have already decided. But what will we decide? He looked at Petrovskiy, but the Chairman was studying a paper on his desk. — What did Anatoliy Vladimirovich want? The Soviet Union was ruled by a troika: the Army, the KGB, and the Party with the Party the weakest of the three, yet the most powerful because it controlled promotions within the other two organizations. Other schemes had been tried, and nearly brought disaster. When Stalin died, Party and Army had feared Beria, for his NKVD was so powerful that it had once eliminated nearly the entire central committee in a matter of weeks.

Party and Army together acted to eliminate the threat. Beria was dragged from a meeting of the Politburo and shot by four colonels. The top leadership of the NKVD was liquidated.