'What happened to you?'
'We should have died then. I mean—there was no real possibility that we could survive. And yet somehow we did. Fishing. Trapping animals. Digging up roots. We lived like beasts, and like beasts we survived, and got away to the West. The filthy capitalist West. A place called Vardo, up in the north of Norway. By then it was winter, and we got a job on the railway. We told the boss we were Finns and we'd lost our passports. He didn't believe us, but he didn't do anything about it either. Labor's scarce up there in the winter. We worked through till spring, then took off. It was time for him to tell the police about it. We got to Oslo. That wasn't easy, but after Volochanka, nothing was too difficult.'
'You could have told the Norwegians who you were,' said Craig. 'They'd look after you.'
'On their terms,' said Asimov. 'We wanted our freedom—to find out about Kaplan.'
'What happened in Oslo?' Craig asked.
'Daniel knew of a man there who could forge papers for us if we paid him.'
'Where did you get the money?' asked Miriam.
'We stole it. Stealing isn't difficult—not if you're taught by experts. There were many thieves in Volochanka. We got the money and the man gave us our papers. We became Israelis. Lindemann and Stein. Then we flew to Cyprus.'
He stopped then, as if the recital were finished. Craig thought otherwise.
'You didn't stay here,' he said. Asimov looked at Miriam.
'I really am tired now,' he said. The girl moved closer to them, her eyes fixed on Asimov, glowing with admiration. Behind her Kaplan sat like a stone man, but he had heard every word.
'Can't he rest for a while?' Miriam asked.
'No,' said Craig. 'He has to finish it. Then we can decide what to do with him.'
'He's been through so much.'
'More than you realize,' said Craig, and turned to the Russian. 'Tell us about when the KGB found you.'
Asimov's good hand clenched on his lap. He said nothing.
'Was it the man who forged your papers?' Craig asked. 'Is that how they found out?' He waited a moment, looking at Asimov. He was white now, exhausted, the onset of shock catching up with him at last.
'I've got all night,' Craig said. 'I don't think you have. But the KGB found you, didn't they? They even offered to help you. Weapons—money—information. And you took them all.'
Kaplan said, 'That can't be true. You know that can't be true.'
Craig looked at him. His face trembling, Kaplan walked over to Asimov, looked down at him, and spoke, his voice a scream. 'Is it true?'
Asimov lay back and closed his eyes, and Kaplan grabbed for him, shook him.
'You must tell me now,' he screamed.
Miriam went to him, pulled his hands from Asimov and pushed him into a chair.
'Let him rest,' she said.
'You will never know how important this is,' he told her.
'I know,' said Craig. He bent closer to Asimov. 'All right you're tired, so I won't make you talk. All you have to do is listen. But you'd better do that Asimov, or I'll leave you with Kaplan.'
'Talk, then,' said Asimov. 'It's all foolishness anyway.'
'The KGB reached you,' said Craig, 'and they told you what you already knew—that Kaplan had betrayed you. They said they'd help you to find him, because they wanted him dead too. They gave you money, and sent you to New York.' The girl turned to him, wide-eyed. 'You had to get information from Marcus Kaplan, I should think, but when you got there you found the Americans were ahead of you. Marcus already had a bodyguard. So then you went to see the man who'd interrogated Kaplan, a man called Laurie S. Fisher—at an apartment building called the Graydon Arms.'
Asimov leaned back further in the chair.
'Don't go to sleep now,' said Craig. 'This is where it gets interesting. You found Fisher all right. The way you found him must have been perfect for you. He was in bed with a woman. You killed the woman, then tortured him until he told you all you needed to know. Then you killed him.' He hurried on, not looking at Miriam. 'Then your KGB contact found out I was in town and sent a couple of blokes to kill me. They tried, when I was with Marcus Kaplan —and they made a mess of it. But that wasn't too important, was it? Fisher had told you Kaplan was in Kutsk, and you went there looking for him. You made a mistake at Kutsk, Asimov. That place is full of Omar's relatives. The only language they understand is money ... But your luck held anyway. You stayed on in Famagusta, waiting. It's nice and handy for Turkey, and your cover was good. A lot of Israelis stay here. Then damn me if I didn't walk right in on you at Angelos's night club. And the girl who takes them off while the bouzouki plays said: 'I can't understand Angelos. He's never at the club these days.' So you followed him, didn't you, mate? And you did a spot of mountaineering and climbed in through the kitchen window and brought your score up to three.'
'How can you know this is true?' Kaplan asked.
'I saw Fisher and his girl,' said Craig. 'I saw what was done to him. And that's the only way our intrepid hero could have found out how to reach you, Kaplan.' He turned to Miriam. 'You think I'm rough,' he said. 'You should see this fellow's work. Even Royce wouldn't be ashamed of it.'
Asimov said in a whisper, 'That was Daniel.'
'You should record that and save your voice,' said Craig.
'I don't mean to excuse myself. I was there and saw it happen and did nothing to prevent it. I did nothing to stop him killing your friend, either. And Angelos had been very kind to us.'
'And this is the man you worshipped?' Miriam said.
'He saved my life so many times I almost lost count. Even in the camp, he helped me. Looked after me. He showed me how to survive—and how to hit back. If it hadn't been for Daniel, I'd still be an animal in the cage of Volochanka. When we got out—in Norway, in Sweden, then here—he taught me how to be a man again, and not just an animal.' He looked at Kaplan. 'Also he taught me how to hate properly. In this world, existence is hopeless unless you can hate. And I hate you, Kaplan. I will hate you till Craig kills me.'
'Maybe I'll let him do it,' said Craig. 'Maybe I won't do it at all. You puzzle me, friend. You really do.'
'I did what had to be done to kill Kaplan,' said Asimov. 'Why is that puzzling?'
'Can you tell him, Omar?' Craig asked.
'You don't have to tell a Turk anything about hating,' Omar said. 'We've been doing it for years. Greeks mostly. And Arabs. Almost anybody who isn't a Turk—and quite a few that are. But when we hate—we hate a man and his family. Not strangers. We don't torture strangers or kill a woman making love because she's in the way, or a fat man who has been kind to us, even if he is a Greek.'
Asimov said, 'Killing Kaplan was our whole world. Nothing else mattered.'
'I hate your world,' said Miriam.
'I spit on it,' said Omar. 'I spit on you.'
'Hate it, spit on it, my world exists,' said Asimov, and looked at Kaplan.
'Let the old Jew kill the young one, effendi,' Omar said. 'It's the worst punishment you could think of for the young one, and the old one will enjoy it.'
'No,' said Kaplan. 'I don't want to kill him.'
'He wants you to live,' said Craig. 'To remind him there's somebody else as bad as he is. After all that wonderful talk in the camp, you wound up working for the KGB.'
'Are you going to kill me, then?' 'Why should I?' 'I let Angelos die.'
'And I killed Daniel—the one you worshipped. Just how good a hater are you? Suppose I let you live—do I go on your list too? And Omar and the girl? They stood by and let me do it.'
'Please,' Asimov said. 'Please, I really am tired.' His lips curled up for a moment. 'Dead tired.'
His body slumped forward. Craig caught him and carried him into a bedroom, then came out and looked at the body of Daniel. Omar came up beside him.
'It's hot here, boss. Even up in the mountains. This one and the Greek—they won't keep long.'
Craig looked down at the dead face. It was strong and hard as a weapon, the face of a man with an overwhelming drive to the achievement of one objective at a time, a man who would feel neither pity nor remorse for what had to be done to achieve that objective. Asimov didn't look like that. Not yet.
'Put them in the garage,' Craig said. 'Take the air-conditioning unit out of your bedroom and plug it in.' 'Air
