"KGB?"

Canning grinned. "You can bet yourass on it."

"Damn it, the girl's been throughhell and back. She shouldn't have to go through all that."

"Maybe, but it's the law, Jake. Youknow if I had my way anyone who comes over that border who's a genuinepolitical refugee has got my support. But rightly or wrongly she did commitmurder. And that makes it pretty difficult for us to grant her asylum."

"Doug, if we send the girl back theAmbassador will be signing her death warrant. He may as well pull the damnedtrigger himself."

Canning heard the passion in Massey'sreply and raised his eyebrows. "Hey, it sounds as if you've got a strongpersonal interest in the girl, Jake."

"She's been through a hell of atime. She deserves our help. If we send her back, we're only condoning what theRussians do. We're saying go right ahead, punish her. There's nothing wrongwith the camps you run. Nothing wrong with killing or imprisoning millions ofpeople, most of them innocent." Massey shook his head firmly. "Me,I'd have a problem going along with that."

Canning hesitated. "Jake, there'ssomething odd about this whole damned thing I haven't told you about but Ithink you'd better know because it kind of upsets the equation. Despite thefact that the woman's story didn't change during questioning by the Finns, oneof their more experienced SUPO officers who questioned her said in his reporthe didn't believe her."

"Why not?"

"The area where she claims she wasin the penal camp, the Finnish officer knows it pretty well. He used to livethere when it used to be part of Karelia before the Russians were ceded theterritory after the war. This officer says it's impossible for the woman tohave made the journey on foot from the camp. The story she told us may makesome kind of sense but he says the terrain she's supposed to have crossed istoo hostile and even the length of time she said it took her he claims doesn'tring true. He thinks she was left near the border by the KGB. Left there to getover to our side as she did, for whatever reason they have in mind."

"What else does he say?"

"That the whole thing is anelaborate setup by Moscow."

"I don't believe that."

"Moscow could be fooling us, Jake.They've done it before. And whatever they have in mind for the girl, this wholething about them wanting her back could be another part of the game to make usbelieve her story."

"I don't believe that either."

Canning shrugged and wiped his mouth withhis napkin. "OK, so what do you suggest?"

"Let me talk with the Ambassadorbefore he makes a final decision. And try to hold off letting this Romulka guytalk to her for as long as you can. I'd like to see her again myself. Not foranother interrogation, just a friendly chat."

Canning gestured for the waiter to bringthe bill, indicating the meeting was at an end, before he looked back atMassey.

"Any particular reason why you wantto talk with her again?"

"After what she's been through, I'dguess she needs to talk with someone."

The private hospital was on the outskirtsof Helsinki.

It was a big old place on a hill withhigh stone walls set on several dozen acres. There was a small forest of silverbirch trees and a tiny frozen lake, wooden benches set around the perimeter.

Anna Khorev was given her own privateroom on the third floor. There was a view of the city and the brightly coloredtimber houses that dotted Helsinki's shore and islands. A guard sat outside herroom day and night.

A table stood in a corner, a blue vase ontop filled with winter flowers, and there was a radio on a shelf by the window.On the first day she had twiddled with the plastic dial as it spread across theband of short-wave frequencies, listening to music and voices in a dozendifferent languages from cities she had only read about: London, Vienna, Rome,Cairo.

That afternoon one of the nurses hadhelped her bathe and changed her dressing and afterwards had brought her freshclothes. The wound in her side was now just a dull throb, and later she hadwalked in the hospital grounds. She avoided talking with the other patients onMassey's instructions, though she desperately wanted to see the world beyondthe walls and experience freedom. But it was not to be, and she had to contentherself with small triumphs, listening to music and reading the newspapers inEnglish.

That first evening a doctor had come tosee her.

He was young, in his middle thirties,with the compassionate blue eyes of a good listener. He spoke softly inRussian, explaining that he was a psychiatrist. He asked her about her past andshe repeated what she had told Massey. The doctor seemed especially interestedin her treatment at the camp, but when he had tried to probe her about Ivan andSasha she had become withdrawn.

On the following day she turned on theradio and the music that came on was soft and classical and she recognized thestrains of Dvofdk. It was music Ivan had loved and it made her think of him andSasha and suddenly a terrible black wave swept in and she felt utterly alone.

As she stood at the window trying toshake off the anguish, she saw a young couple come through the hospital gates.

It was visiting time and a little girl walkedbetween them. She couldn't have been more than two or three and she wore a bluecoat and a red scarf. Her woollen cap was pulled down on her head and her handswere wrapped snugly in mittens.

She stared down at the child's face for along time before the man swept her up in his arms and they all disappeared intothe hospital.

As she turned away from the window sheswitched off the music. She went to lie on the bed and closed her eyes. Thesobbing that came then racked her body in convulsions until she felt she couldcry no more.

Sooner or later, she told herself, itwould have to stop. She couldn't live with grief forever.

On the third morning Massey came to seeher and he suggested they go for a walk down to the lake where they could talkin private. A tree had been uprooted in a long-ago storm, its rotting tendrilsexposed, patches of moss growing on the dead roots. Massey sat beside her on awooden bench and lit a cigarette. Anna said, "May I have one too?"

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't. Not since the war. But Ithink I would like one now."

Massey saw the nervousness in her face ashe lit her cigarette but he was amazed by the change in her appearance. She hadbeen given new clothes; a thick pale blue woollen sweater that she had tuckedinto tight black ski pants. One of the staff nurses had loaned her a wintercoat that was a size too big for her and it made her look vulnerable, but therewas no denying her beauty.

She was different from any of the otherRussian women he had met. He had been one of the first Americans to reachBerlin after the Reds had taken the city, and it was the first time he sawfemale Russian soldiers. There were few beauties among them. Most had beenmuscled, tough peasant women who looked like they shaved twice a day. Heguessed so would he if the Germans had been dropping shells on him for fouryears.

"Have they been treating you well,Anna?"

"Very well, thank you."

Massey looked out toward the lake andspoke quietly. "I had a talk with Doctor Harlan. He thinks there's somethingyou should be aware of, Anna. It's not going to be easy for you to get overwhat you've been through. He thinks you'll need time to deal with yourpain." He looked at her. "I guess what it comes down to is, no matterwhat happens you have to try and forget about your husband and your child. Puteverything bad that's happened behind you. It sounds easy me saying that, but Iknow it isn't." She looked at him without speaking, then said, "Idon't think I will ever forget Ivan and Sasha. The other things, maybe, but notIvan and Sasha."