Winter Hawk

how long the noise had been going on. He did not answer, and she stood up and moved across the room, to stand beside him.

'Aral'sk is a hundred miles away,' he murmured, as if thinking aloud. 'There's a little more than a day left — say, half a day if I'm to use the night to hide in.'

'How?' she asked.

'I'll have to walk it' He turned to her. 'I can't just sit around and wait for what's bound to happen.' His eyes were wide, looking beyond her.

'You can't walk it, not in a night, not in twenty-four hours.'

'Then I'll drive as far as I can, to the security perimeter.'

'Which way?'

His hand indicated the map. 'The way poor bloody Kedrov went — out to the deserted silos, then across country here.' His fingers stroked circles rather than a course of escape, yet his voice appeared convinced by his scheme. 'Back through the marshes might be best.'

'That's less than half the distance. It can't be done.'

'I can't wait here,' he snapped. 'I don't want to end up like that poor creep Rodin! Pills stuffed down my throat or felling out of a high window. Serov knows I know — don't you understand, Katya?' He had gripped her upper arms, and they hurt with the pressure of his fingers. He was shaking her like a disobedient child with whom he had lost patience. 'I'm frightened out of my skin, Katya, and 1 know I have to do something. I'm afraid for myself, I'm afraid for you, even for Kedrov. I'm afraid for the whole bloody world if these madmen have their way.' He was utterly unaware of the pain he was causing her, the degree to which she was being shaken. 'The whole bloody world — the poor, tired, sick-to-death bloody world!

'Dmitri!' she shouted at him, and his eyes focused, saw her, felt her arms, and released her, shaking his head as if to clear it.

She rubbed her arms gingerly, regained her balance.

'I'm sorry.'

'Its all right.' She forced herself to stop rubbing her arms. 'You won't make it,' she asserted. 'It's too far.'

'Then I'll have to steal or commandeer a car or a truck or a fucking tractor once I'm outside the perimeter.'

She walked away from him, considering his desperation and his scheme. She was afraid for him.

'I'll need food, walking boots, my gun. You'll look after the dog?' She nodded absently. She realized he had to make the attempt, some attempt, but she could only visualize failure; and his death. Lightning, or whatever he called it, was still unreal to her; less real than the enmity of Serov. Her horizons were narrower than his; her practicality did not allow her madcap schemes or desperate remedies, but enclosed her in a narrow steel box of facts that could not be breached. She could not think, especially while he talked.

'…a backpack, a good map, this way, across the marshes— they'll be empty now… making what? Five, six miles an hour. If I drive out as far as here…'

A truck pulled into the parking lot below the window. A military truck.

'… what's the time at this point? Say eight, eight-thirty, outside the perimeter. I need to know more about the terrain up there, the security…'

Soldiers, GRU troopers, descended from the canvas-flapped back of the truck, whose exhaust plumed grayly in the icy air. Six soldiers and an officer.

'Dmitri—'

'… fanning… that would take me farther west if I wanted to find a car — maybe this road here.'

'Sir—'*

The soldiers moved toward the building, looking up at the windows, spreading out to cover the exits. The officer strode to the main doors. Katya turned.

'… one farm, yes? Yes, another there. What's the distance?'

'Colonel!' she shouted.

He looked around at her, plainly startled. 'What is it?'

'It's too late — they're here.'

'What?' Priabin's voice suggested complete surprise. She looked at him. His face registered a slow coming to terms with what she had said. Then the color drained from it, and the realization gave him a stunned expression. He moved jerkily to her side at the window, in time to see the officer and two of the armed soldiers enter the main doors. Priabin whirled around, as if itemizing his office furniture, his possessions — a man about to be robbed. He ran his hands stiffly down his cheeks.

'What do we—?'

'Get out, Katya — get out of here! You're not involved. Just go back to your office — look as if you've been working there all the time — go on.'

He had grabbed her by the arm and was pushing her roughly across the room.

'What about you?'

He shook his head. 'Depends what they want. Look, whatever happens, you know nothing.'

'But if you're arrested, taken away, what do I—?'

'Nothing. There's nothing you can do. Just keep your head down.' Misha stood up and shook himself, tongue lolling. 'Take the dog with you,' Priabin added. 'Quickly. Come on, Misha, quick, boy!' He opened his door, pushing Katya and the dog into the outer office, snapping at his secretary: 'Lieutenant Grechkova hasn't been here — I've been alone all morning. Understand?'

His secretary, red mouth still wide, merely nodded.

'I have to—' Katya began.

'Nothing. Understand me, Katya — nothing. Now go.'

Priabin closed the outer door behind them, and felt the perspiration stand out on his forehead. His secretary, the widow of a KGB officer, appeared concerned.

'We're in for a visit — GRU. They may want to talk to me. I might have to go with them — just a routine panic!' He grinned shakily at her. Soothed her by patting the air in front of him with his hands. 'Nothing to worry about. Just remember, no one's been here, I haven't even spoken to you. I'll explain when it's all blown over.' He had walked to his own door, paused, holding it open, looking back at her. She was nodding her understanding; her eyes were bright with anxieties, her hands fluttered above her typewriter, as if he were dictating to her. 'OK, Marfa, just play dumb. It's me they want to talk to. When they get here, show them straight in.' He nodded, smiled palely, and closed the door behind him.

He looked at the map on the wall with a deep, sharp regret. He sat down at his desk, lit a cigarette quickly, puffed at it hungrily* then slowed his exhalation, trying to find a pose of relaxation, so that he would seem surprised. Fear, regret, a looming sense of disaster regarding Lightning. He felt the jangling of his nervous system in his chest and arms. Try to relax.

Secretary's face, then the GRU officer's features and bulk behind her, beside her, in the room ahead of her. He assumed surprise, molding the shock he could not prevent. Two soldiers were in the room immediately behind their officer. His secretary mumbled an apology, but he waved to her to calm herself even as he addressed the GRU major. A major — arrest, then.

'What is it, Major? What prevents you from waiting to be announced?' he asked with studied lightness; a sting in the tone, too, because that helped dissipate his fear.

'Colonel Priabin?' the major asked stolidly; aware of his authority, confident, but tied to a defined script. A minion.

'Naturally. What is it you want, Major? I'm rather busy, as you can see.' He lazily waved a hand over his desk, then drew on his cigarette. Puffed smoke at the ceiling. 'Do you need those two men just to speak to me?'

'Colonel Priabin, I must ask you to accompany me to GRU headquarters.' Priabin was on the point of interrupting him, but the major ignored his hand, his poised lips. 'Colonel Serov wishes to interview you.'

'Oh. Concerning what?'

'I am not able to divulge that, Colonel,' the major announced stiffly, staring past Priabin's shoulder; but there