Firefox Down

He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve, pretending to remove his fur hat to disguise the gesture.

The picture taken of him at the rnotorway barrier, when his papers said he was Glazunov… next to that, something they must have obtained from the Centre's Records Directorate computer — himself in USAF uniform, taken perhaps eight or nine years before. He had been much younger then, he told himself, much -

Beneath the pictures, he was described as an enemy agent, spy and saboteur. He was sought with the utmost urgency. People were instructed to be vigilant.

The hairpiece they had given him was an expensive one, one that had been purchased in the West, in all probability. It was, Vassily had said, grinning, better even than Tito's had been. Yet, deliberately, it looked false. His hair was too short from having to wear the helmet with its thought-guidance sensors to be anything but noticeable. A wig which looked like a wig was deemed a bolder call to attention. Were he suspicious, he would not wear an evident hairpiece. His motive would be considered to be vanity.

He replaced his fur hat. The youthful hair showed beneath it, a slightly different shade from his own.

He handed over the tickets, and gave the KGB man his papers, drawing them from his breast pocket. The ticket-collector asked the reason for the second ticket, and Gant turned his head loftily, indicating Anna when he saw her three places behind him. He waved her forward without consulting the KGB man. A man in the queue scowled, resenting authority and privilege. Gant introduced her off-handedly to the KGB man, and she passed over her papers.

To Anna, he paid no attention. To Gant, he was respectful, studying him from beneath narrowed eyelids. He scrutinised the papers for a long time, but did not glance behind him at the photographs. The hairpiece seemed to amuse him but he was nervous of revealing his smile and his contempt. Eventually, he handed back the two sets of papers, and nodded.

'A good journey. Comrade,' he said with insolent mock-servility. Gant pretended to study the name displayed beneath the man's picture on the ID card clipped to his breast pocket — but only for a moment. The man winced visibly.

They passed through the barrier onto the platform. Gant felt his legs weaken, his hands shake. But he did not falter in his stride.

'Are you all right?' Anna asked.

'Yes,' he replied without looking at her.

Side by side, in silence, they walked down the long, wide platform, past the newspaper shop, the confectioner's, the gift shop, the buffet. Gant imperiously waved away a porter.

Bullshit, he thought. It's keeping you going, just bullshit. And he wondered who had suggested the disguise and the false identity and how well they knew him. It helped. To play-act arrogance helped. Bullshit -

They reached the designated carriage. Gant looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes before the train left. They found their compartment, claimed their seats. He was grateful for the relative safety of the twin-berth compartment. No one would be able to intrude.

'A magazine or newspaper, Comrade Ossipov?' Anna asked him as he lifted their cases onto the rack. 'Some confectionery?'

'No… ah, perhaps a magazine. Soviet Science World?' he replied, smiling at the pantomime. 'Yes.'

'Very well, Comrade Ossipov,' Anna said, and left the compartment.

He watched her climb onto the platform and make for the newsagent's shop. She looked small and vulnerable as she passed two uniformed KGB men with guns on their shoulders. She had been angry, he remembered — blazingly angry — when she had seen his false papers. Secretariat, like herself. They were forcing her to use her own papers rather than the set they provided, which described her as his wife. She had been insulted and challenged. She'd chosen to travel as his professional colleague. There was some declaration in it, he thought, some assertion of herself, of her personal life.

She disappeared into the shop. Gant began to relax. The hairpiece felt as hot and constricting as the fur hat he had removed. He brushed flecks and creases from his suit. He unfolded the newspaper. He began to allow time to pass more slowly, feeling his whole body relax, inch back from the pitch of tension he had experienced at the ticket barrier. It had worked, had worked, he repeated to himself over and over, like a calming spell. The woman- was excellent cover. In the time available, in the extreme situation in which they had found themselves, Aubrey's people in Moscow had done well, very well.

He glanced out of the window, directly after looking at his watch. Four minutes to departure time — she was talking to a man in uniform, a young colonel in the KGB. Fifteen yards from the window. She knew him -

Four minutes — she was smiling — three minutes fifty — she was smiling.

Gant felt his body constrict into a straitjacket, his fists rest heavily on his knees, his eyes begin to dart about the carriage…

Who was she — ? What was she doing?

Anna leaned up and kissed Dmitri Priabin, aware of Gant's staring face fifteen yards away.

'What a surprise!' she exclaimed.

Holding her arms, as if to restrain her, he grinned. 'Duty, my love — duty. I'm here in my official capacity, inspecting the security arrangements. I didn't know whether or not you'd arrived.'

She looked pointedly at her watch. 'Only a couple of minutes,' she murmured.

'Soviet Science World?' He asked, looking at the top of one of the magazines under her arm. 'Looking for more wheelchair projects? No, I'm sorry,' he added when he saw her face darken. 'That was cheap.' He bent to kiss her, and she responded. She had half-turned and she could see Gant clearly as she pressed against Dmitri's chest. He looked betrayed, frightened. She could not tell him -

She pushed away. 'I'd better get on the train, I suppose.'

'When will you be back?'

'A couple of days.'

'You didn't leave a hotel number.'

'I'll ring you — tonight.'

'What is all this business?' he asked, taking her arm — an image of arrest? — and walking her towards the door of the carriage. She leaned against him, trying to display the innocence of the meeting to Gant. She smiled broadly. She could not tell if Gant relaxed. He continued to watch them very obviously. Had Dmitri seen him — ?

And she realised, with a horrible, sickening force, that the hunter and the hunted were eight yards from each other. She was certain that even she would have recognised Gant beneath that disguise, beneath that ridiculous hairpiece, even from those grainy pictures of him near the ticket barrier…

'Oh, some petty fiddling, they think. It's got to be verified before the police are called in.'

'No drugs?' he asked in all seriousness.

'No — clothing, sterile supplies, all kinds of silly things — sometimes I think people will steal anything in this country! It may even be a fraud on the part of the suppliers because they're behind with their production schedules — I'm not sure yet. But it has to be investigated.' She whirled him round suddenly, and smiled up into his face. 'Never mind about that — just say you'll miss me!' A part of her awareness was stunned with the ease with which she lied.

'I will-like hell.' He kissed her. She pressed her mouth against his, held his head between her hands, clung to his neck as the kiss continued. It was a farewell, to something.

A whistle blew. She pulled away from Priabin. 'I must go — '

'Come on then — on you get!' He was blithe, confident she would be away for no more than two days, enjoying this tiny interlude in the search for Gant. He handed her onto the train, and slammed the door. She leaned out of the window and kissed him again.

The train moved. He stepped back. She waved, blew him a further kiss, which he returned. He grinned like a schoolboy. She waved furiously, already ten yards away.

Hers must be the nearest compartment of the first-class carriage, the others were full, two faces at each window. Who was she travelling with — ? He waved. The train gathered speed, twenty yards away now -

He began running, still waving. He took the first two steps because he wanted to keep her in sight as long as possible — and then the third and fourth steps and all the others because of the face at the window. Strangely, he