"Did he offer our guest bread andsalt?"

It was an old Russian tradition withvisitors, and Massey smiled and said, "Just coffee, I'm afraid."

The old man removed his hat and shook hishead. "Typical. Like all the young he forgets tradition. Come, let me dothe honors, Anna. Give me your arm."

Vassily held out his arm to her and Annaslipped her hand through his.

She winked at Massey as he stood thereamused, and let the old man lead them up to the house. Anna looked up as Masseysmiled over at her. "You know, I think he likes you."

Massey was standing at the window smokinga cigarette minutes later when he saw the jeep pull up outside.

Stanski climbed out and carried twocardboard boxes of supplies up to the house. Massey opened the door for- himand when Stanski had put the boxes away he looked at the two long wooden cratesMassey had placed on the floor and kicked one of them with his boot.

"What's in the boxes?" Masseysaid, "Everything you'll need when Popov arrives. Better stash it in asafe place; there's enough weapons and munitions in there to start a war."

"There's a cold storage room underthe kitchen. We can leave them there."

'-Where's the girl?"

"Vassily's taking her for a tour ofthe place. He's taken quite a shine to her."

"It's just been a long time sincehe's seen perfuithe. But suddenly I'm not so sure about her, Jake."

"You've got doubts already'? Whathappened to your instinct?"

Stanski shook his head. "One look ather was enough to tell me she's got what it takes. But it's her life you'reriskini@. I don't think she fully realizes what she's getting herself' intohere. Once she's with me, I think she'll he OK. But if we have to part companybecause of trouble I'm not sure she's capable of making it on her own."

"You ought to give her more credit,Alex. I told you. Trust me. And remember, she's spent almost a year in theGulag. Anyone who can survive that and do what she did to escape isn't going togive in easily. And she'll be fine once Popov puts her through her paces."

"Another thing. She's far toopretty. She'll attract attention."

"Then why did you agree to havingher along'!"

Stanski smiled. "Maybe for that veryreason. You Know me, I'm a sucker for a pretty face."

Massey smiled back and shook his head."You're anything but, my friend. But we can have that problem sorted outwhen the time comes. It's amazing what clever make-up and a bad hairstyle cando to alter someone's appearance."

"You ought to know, Jake."

"Funny."

Massey removed an envelope from hisinside pocket and handed it across.

"What's this?"

"Your list of contacts in Russia andthe Baltic. You need to memorize the details between now and the day ofdeparture, then destroy the list."

Stanski glanced at the envelope."How did you get in touch with them?"

"I haven't, not yet. but leave thatto me. If there's any change in the names I'll let you know. I've arranged tomake contact with our partisan friends in Tallinn who'll pick you up after youdrop, if everything goes according to plan."

Stanski put the envelope in his pocket."So what do you want me to do with the girl in the meantime?"

"Give her a couple of days to lether get used to the place, then start to get her into shape. And yourself.Daily runs and exercises. Be tough with her. It's for her own good. It's a longway from Tallinn to Moscow and you don't know what to expect, so you both wantto be fit. Another thing seems as you'll both be parachuting in and we can'tuse any of our training camps, you'll have@ to do the best you can in thatdepartment. Seeing as Anna hasn't dropped before you'll have to cover thebasics to make sure she doesn't do damage to herself when she falls."

"And what will you be doing whilewe're sweating it out here?"

"Me?" Massey smiled. "I'llbe in Paris enjoying myself."

When the Red Army rolled over the plainsof Poland on its way to crush Berlin and the German Reich, Henri Lebel had beenliberated from Auschwitz concentration camp.

The Russian officer who had gone throughthe camp huts with his men searching for the still living among the dead hadtaken one look at the Frenchman's emaciated body lying on the lice-ridden bunk,had spindly legs and an emaciated body with shrunken eyes, and said,"Leave him. The poor bastard's dead."

It was only when they carried Lebel'sbody to the mass grave along with the other wasted corpses and heard the faintgasp of breath and saw the flicker of life in Lebel's eyes that they decidedthe man was definitely still alive.

There had been two long months spent in aRussian field hospital to build up his strength before he was handed over tothe British and allowed to return to his native Paris.

Lebel had survived the war but it was awar that had cost him his wife, gassed, then burned in the ovens of Auschwitz,not only because she was Jewish, but because Lebel had been a member of theFrench Communist Resistance.

For the last eight years he had resumedthe furrier trade his father, an immigrant Russian Jew, had begun in Paris.Henri Lebel had Gradually built it up into a flourishing business, outfittingthe Parisian rich with the best of Russian sable and fur, and in the processturning himself into a wealthy man, with a resident suite at the Ritz Hotel anda luxury villa in Canne:";.

There were frequent trips to Moscow,where his resistance connections had gone down well with the Sovietauthorities, and as a result Lebel had managed to turn his company into avirtual monopoly, with sole rights in Europe to sell the finest Russian sableand fur. And with America beginning to boom in the postwar years, he had evenopened a thriving branch on New York's Fifth Avenue.

Life, it seemed, despite its horrors, hadturned out reasonably well for Henri Lebel. But unknown to his businesscontacts in Moscow, he had a dark secret he kept hidden from them.

There were milestones in his troubledlife which Henri Lebel remembered with great clarity. The day he and Klara werearrested by the Gestapo. The day he had met lrena Dezov. And the day he hadbegun to live again after the horror of Auschwitz.

The first, the arrest in Paris two yearsafter the Germans invaded, he could never forget.

It was his wife's birthday, and afterseveral months of hiding he had decided to risk taking her out to celebrate. Ashe sat in the Paris cafe with Klara that Saturday morning, barely enjoying thewartime ersatz coffee and the stodgy cakes, the door had burst in and three menin plain clothes entered. Lebel saw the black leather coats and gloves and theslouch hats and an icy chill ran through his veins. As it stood, he was alreadya wanted man for his resistance activities.

The three men stood in the center of thecafe, hands on their hips, the sharp voice of the man in charge still perfectlyclear in Lebel's memory.

"Papieren! Everybody get theirpapers ready"'

And then the grim joke that rang aroundthe cafe as the Gestapo man grinned. "And if there are any Jews among you,start saying your prayers."

The laughter that followed from theGestapo men still echoed in Henri Lebel's ears. He had looked at his wife, herbeautiful face draining of color. Lebel could still remember the feeling thatsprin- morning. Icy fear. Sweat breaking out all over his body, his heartpumping in his ears, ready to burst. He was Resistance, and worse, a JewishResistance.

The three men went through the cafechecking papers. The one in charge came to Lebel's table. He smiled down atKlara, then looked at Lebel.