The taxi dropped me at the gate and whenI walked up there were two men in plain clothes, Israeli guards, standingbeside a security hut. They checked my passport and one of them examined thebunch of white orchids I had brought, then telephoned the villa, before theyopened the gate for me and I walked up to the front.

Unexpectedly it was a young woman whoopened the door when I rang the bell. She wore jeans and a sweater and was inher early twenties, tall and dark-haired and deeply tanned.

The smile was warm when she said inEnglish, "Mr. Massey, please come in."

I followed her into a cool marble hallthat echoed to our footsteps.

She led me out to the back of the villa.The gardens were dazzling with color but in the bright Moscow sunshine theplace looked a little shabby. Creepers grew raggedly on walls and looked as ifit could do with a coat of fresh paint.

As I followed the girl across the patio Isaw the elderly woman waiting at a table, She was tall and elegant, with one ofthose chiseled, well-proportioned faces that keep their age so well.

She would have been in her late sixtiesbut she didn't look it. She was remarkably handsome. Her face had a Slaviclook, high cheekbones, and although her hair was completely gray, she lookedlike a woman ten years younger. She wore a simple black dress that hugged herslim figure, dark glasses and a white scarf tied around her neck. She stared upat my face for a long time before she stood and offered her hand "Mr.Massey, it's good to meet you."

I shook her hand and offered her theorchids. "Just to say hello. They tell me all Russians adore flowers."

She smiled and smelled the flowers."How very kind. Would you like something to drink? A coffee? Somebrandy?"

"A drink would be good."

"Russian brandy? Or is that toostrong for you Americans?"

"Not at all. That sounds fine."

The girl hovered by her side, poured me adrink from a tray and handed it across.

The woman placed the orchids on thecoffee table and said, "Thank you, Rachel. You may leave us now."When the young woman had gone she said, "My granddaughter. She traveled withme to Moscow," as if explaining the girl's presence, and then she smiledagain. "And I'm Anna Khorev, but doubtless you know that."

She offered me a cigarette from a pack onthe table and I accepted. She took one herself, and when she had lit both, shelooked out at the view. She must have been aware of me staring at her but thenI guessed she was used to men staring.

She smiled as she looked back at me."Well, Mr. Massey, I hear you've been very persistent."

"I guess it comes with the territoryof being a journalist." She laughed, an easy laugh, and then she said,"So tell me what you know about me?"

I sipped the brandy. "Almost nothinguntil a week ago, when I learned you were still alive and living inIsrael."

"is that all?"

"Oh, there's more, I assureyou."

She seemed amused. "Go on,please."

"Over forty years ago you escapedfrom a Soviet prison camp, after being sentenced to life imprisonment. You'rethe only survivor of a top-secret CIA mission, code-named Snow Wolf."

"I can see your friends in Langleyfilled you in." She smiled. "Tell me more."

I sat back and looked at her. "Theytold me hardly anything. I think they wanted to leave that to you. Except theydid tell me my father wasn't buried in Washington, but in an unmarked grave inMoscow. He died on active service for his country and you were with him when ithappened."

She nodded at me to continue.

"I found some papers. Old papers ofhis he kept."

"So I'm told."

"Four names were written in thepages, and they cropped up several times. Yours. And another three names. AlexStanski, Henfi Lebel, lrena Dezov. There was also a line written on the bottomof one of the pages, the last line, 'if they're caught, may God help us all.' Iwas hoping you could help me there." For a long time she said nothing,just looked at me through her dark glasses. And then she removed them and I sawher eyes. They were big and dark brown and very beautiful.

I said, "That line means somethingto you?" She hesitated. "Yes, it means something," she saidenigmatically. She was silent for several moments and turned her head to lookaway. When she looked back she said, "Tell me what else you know."

I sat back in my chair. "The filecover I found, would you care to see it?"

Anna Khorev nodded. I took thephotocopied single sheet from my pocket and handed it across.

She read it for several moments, thenslowly laid the page on the table.

I glanced down. I had read it so manytimes I didn't need to read it again.

OPERATION SNOW WOLF.

SECURITY, CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY,SOVIET DIVISION.

VITAL: ALL COPY FILES AND NOTE DETAILSRELATING TO THIS OPERATION TO BE DESTROYED AFTER USE.

REPEAT DESTROYED.

UTMOST SECRECY. REPEAT, UTMOST SECRECY.

Her face showed no reaction as she lookedback at me.

"So when you read this and the otherpages and learned your father had not committed suicide or died on the date youwere told, you realized there was perhaps more to his death, and went lookingfor answers?"

"That's when I was offered a deal.If I agreed to hand over the original pages I'd hear some answers, and I'd bepresent when my father was given a proper burial service. But I was told thatthe matter was still highly secret, and that I had to sign a declarationpromising to uphold that secrecy."

She crushed her cigarette in the ashtrayand said, as if quietly amused, "Yes, I know all about your friends inLangley, Mr. Massey."

"Then you'll also know I was toldthat it was all up to you, whether you'd tell me what I wanted to know."

"Which is?"

"The truth about my father's death.The truth pure and simple about Snow Wolf and how my father ended up in a gravein Moscow at the height of the Cold War."

She didn't answer, but stood and crossedto the veranda. i sat forward in my chair. "The way I see it, my fatherwas involved in something highly covert, something that people are stillreluctant to talk about. I'm not just talking about a secret. I'm talking aboutsomething totally extraordinary."

"Why extraordinary?"

"Because the people from Langley Ispoke with still wanted to hide the truth after all these years. Because whenmy father was involved in the operation it was a time when the Russians and theAmericans were out to annihilate one another. And you're the only person alivewho maybe knows what happened to my father." I looked at her. "Am Iright?"

She didn't speak and I continued to lookat her.

"Can I tell you something? I lost myfather over four decades ago. Four decades of not having a father to talk to,and to be loved by. It was like having a hole in my life for a long time, untilfinally he just slowly became a wistful memory. I had to live with the lie thathe committed suicide. And you-you know how and why he really died. And what'smore I think you owe me an explanation."

She didn't reply, just looked at methoughtfully.

I said, "And I have a question. Whydid you want to meet me in Moscow, and not someplace else? I was told youescaped from this country. Why come back?"

Anna Khorev thought for a moment. "Isuppose the simple truth of it is I would very much have liked to have gone toyour father's ceremony, Mr. Massey, but I considered it your own privateaffair. But perhaps my just coming here was the next best thing." Shehesitated. "Besides, I've never seen his grave. And it was something Iwanted to do."