"Just like that? What would happen to my child?"

"We'll send for her afterward."

"We'll send for her? What are you suggesting?"

Morrison flushed slightly. "I'm not sure. We can be friends, certainly. You'll need friends in a new country."

"But it can't happen, Albert. I appreciate your kindness and concern - or pity - but it can't happen."

"Yes, it can. This is the twenty-first century, not the twentieth, Sophia. People may move about freely anywhere in the world."

"Dear Albert," said Kaliinin, "you do tend to live in theory. Yes, people can move about, but every nation has its exceptions. The Soviet Union will not allow a highly trained scientist with experience in miniaturization-related fields to leave the country. Think about it and you'll see that that's reasonable. If I do accompany you, there will be an immediate Soviet protest, a sure claim that I have been kidnapped, and there will be a loud howl from all corners of the world that I be sent back in order to avoid a crisis. Sweden will act as quickly for me as she has for you."

"But in my case, I was kidnapped."

"There'll be many who will believe I was - or who might prefer to believe it - and I will be sent back by the United States, as you are being sent back by the Soviet Union. We've papered over, in this fashion, dozens of crises over the last six decades or so - and isn't that better than war?"

"If you say, firmly and frequently, that you want to stay in the United States -"

"Then I never see my child again and my life may be at risk, too. Besides, I don't want to go to the United States."

Morrison looked surprised.

Kaliinin said, "Do you find that hard to believe? Do you want to stay in the Soviet Union?"

"Of course not. My country -" He stopped.

She said, "Exactly. You talk endlessly about humanity, about the importance of a global view, but if we scrape you down to your emotions, it's your country. I have a country also, a language, a literature, a culture, a way of life. I don't want to give it up."

Morrison sighed. "As you say, Sophia."

Sophia said, "But I cannot endure it here in this room any longer, Albert. There's no use waiting. Let us get into the car and I'll drive you to where the Swedish plane is waiting."

"It probably won't be there."

"Then we'll wait at the airport, rather than here, and we'll at least be certain that as soon as it arrives you can board it. I want to see you safely gone, Albert, and I want to see his face afterward."

She was out the room and clattering down the stairs. He followed hastily. He was, in truth, not sorry to be going.

They strode along a carpeted corridor and through a door that led directly out to the side of the hotel.

There, pulled up close to the wall, was a highly polished black limousine.

Morrison, a little breathless, said, "They're certainly supplying us with deluxe transportation. Can you drive that thing?"

"Like a dream," said Kaliinin, smiling - and then came to a full and sudden halt, her smile forgotten.

Around the corner of the hotel stepped Konev. He, too, halted and for long moments they did not stir, either of them - as though they were a pair of Gorgons, each of whom had frozen into stone at the glance of the other.

Morrison was the first to speak. He said a little huskily, "Have you come to see me off, Yuri? If so, good-bye. I'm leaving."

The phrases sounded false in his own ears and his heart was pounding.

Yuri's eyes shifted just enough to glance quickly at Morrison and then moved back to their original position.

Morrison said, "Come, Sophia."

He might as well have said nothing. When she spoke - finally - it was to Konev. "What do you want?" she demanded harshly.

"The American," said Konev in a tone no softer than hers.

"I'm taking him away."

"Don't. We need him. He has deceived us." Konev's voice was becoming quieter.

"So you say," said Kabinin. "I have my orders. I am to take him to a plane and see that he gets in. You cannot have him."

"It's not I who must have him. It's the nation."

"Tell me. Go on and tell me. Say that Holy Mother Russia needs him and I'll laugh in your face."

"I'll say no such thing. The Soviet Union needs him."

"You care only for yourself. Step out of my way."

Konev moved between the two others and the limo. "No. You don't understand the importance of his staying here. Believe me. My report has already gone to Moscow."

"I'm sure and I can guess to whom it's going, too. But old gruff-and-grumble won't be able to do anything. He's a blowhard and we all know that. He won't dare say a word in the Presidium and if he does, Albert will be long gone."

"No. He's not going."

Morrison said, "I'll take care of him, Sophia. You open the limo door." He felt himself trembling slightly. Konev was not a large man, but he looked wiry and he was clearly determined. Morrison did not believe himself to be a successful gladiator under any conditions and he certainly didn't feel like one now.

Kaliinin lifted her hand, palm turned toward Morrison. "Stay where you are, Albert." She then said to Konev, "How do you intend to stop me. Do you have a gun?"

Konev looked surprised. "No. Of course not. Carrying a hand weapon is illegal."

"Indeed? But I have one." She drew it from her jacket pocket, a small thing almost enclosed in her fist, its small muzzle gleaming as it edged through the space between her first and second fingers.

Konev backed away, eyes widening. "That's a stunner."

"Of course. Worse than a gun, isn't it? I thought you might interfere, so I'm prepared."

"That's also illegal."

"Then report me and I'll plead the need to fulfill my orders against your criminal interference. I will probably get a commendation."

"You won't. Sophia -" He took a step toward her.

She took a step back. "No closer. I'm ready to shoot and I might do so even if you stand where you are. Just keep in mind what a stunner does. It scrambles your brain. Isn't that what you once told me? You'll be unconscious and you'll wake up with partial amnesia and it may take you hours to recover or even days. I've even heard that some people never quite recover. Imagine if your magnificent brain should not quite regain its fine edge."

"Sophia," he said again.

She said, through almost closed lips, "Why do you use my name? The last time I heard you use it, you said, 'Sophia, we will never speak again, never look at each other again.' You are now speaking to me, looking at me. Go away and keep your promise, you miserable -" (She used a Russian word that Morrison didn't understand.)

Konev, white to his lips, said a third time, "Sophia - Listen to me. Believe that every word I have ever said is a lie, but listen to me now. That American is a deadly threat to the Soviet Union. If you love your country -"

"I'm tired of loving. What has it gotten me?"

"And what has it gotten me?" whispered Konev.

"You love yourself," said Kaliinin bitterly.

"No! You kept saying that, but it's not so. If I have some regard for myself now, it is because only I can save our country."

"You believe that?" said Kaliinin, wondering. "You really believe that? - You are mad to do so."

"Not at all. I know my own worth. I couldn't let anything deter me - not even you. For the sake of our country and my work, I had to give you up. I had to give up my child. I had to tear myself in two and throw the better half of myself away."

"Your child?" Kaliinin said. "Are you claiming responsibility?"

Konev's head bent. "How else could I drive you away? How else could I be sure I would work unimpeded? - I love you. I have always loved you. I have known all along it was my child and that it could be no one else's."