David Nussboym came into the office. "Good day, Comrade General Secretary."

"Good day, David Aronovich," Molotov answered automatically. Then even his legendary impa.s.sivity cracked. "Sit down. Take it easy. Here, I will get you some tea." As he rose to do that, he added, "How are you feeling?"

"I have been better," Nussboym allowed. He sounded as battered as he looked. The last time Molotov had seen him-when he'd given Nussboym permission to go into Poland-the Jewish NKVD man had been thin and bald and nondescript. He was thinner now: skeletally lean. And he was balder: he had not a hair on his head, not even an eyebrow or an eyelash. No Lizard could have had less hair than he did. And he was no longer nondescript, either: with his skin a pasty yellowish white, anyone who saw him would remember him for a long time, though possibly wishing he wouldn't.

"Here." Molotov gave him the tea, into which he'd dumped a lot of sugar. "Would you care for a sweet roll, too?"

"No, thank you, Vyacheslav Mikhaibovich." Nussboym shook his head. Even so small a motion seemed to take all his strength. "I'm afraid I still haven't got much in the way of an appet.i.te." His rhythmic Polish accent gave his Russian the appearance of a vitality lacking in truth.

"I had heard you were suffering from radiation sickness," Molotov said, returning to his desk after the unusual show of solicitude, "but I had no idea..."

Nussboym's shrug looked effortful, too. "By everything the doctors tell me, I ought to be dead from the dose of radiation I took." He shrugged again. "I'm still here. I intend to be here a while longer. They say I'm a lot likelier now to get cancer later on, but I can't do anything about that, either. Who knows? Maybe I'll beat the odds one more time."

"I hope so," Molotov said, on the whole sincerely. Nussboym hadn't had to get him out of the cell where Beria had imprisoned him, but he'd done it. Afterwards, the NKVD man had been reasonable in the rewards he'd requested. And so Molotov did wish him well. He was useful, after all.

"Thank you," Nussboym said. "In the meantime, I serve the Soviet Union."

"Good." Molotov nodded approval. "Spoken like an Old Bolshevik." Stalin, of course, had purged most of the Old Bolsheviks, the men who'd made the Russian Revolution. At need, Molotov could always purge Nussboym. Knowing that was rea.s.suring. The general secretary went on, "Speak to me of the situation in Poland."

"You will-or you had better-have more up-to-date information than I can give," Nussboym replied. "I've spent most of the past few months on my back with needles and tubes sticking into me."

Molotov had always been a scrawny, even a weedy, little man-which might well have helped keep him safe during Stalin's tenure, for Iosef Vissarionovich hadn't been any too big, either. Despite looking anything but robust, though, he'd always been healthy. The idea of going into a hospital-of entrusting his physical well-being to a physician he could not fully control-gave him the cold chills. Doing his best not to think about that, he said, "You were on the spot for some time, and you survived the fighting, which a good many of our operatives did not. And, of course, you are a native of Poland. Your impressions of what is going on there, then, will be of particular value to me."

"You are too kind, Comrade General Secretary," David Nussboym murmured, seeming genuinely moved. "From what I saw, the Jews are solidly behind the Race, which understands that and exploits it. A good many Poles favor independence, but they too-all except for a few fascist madmen or progressive Communists-prefer the Lizards to either the Reich Reich or the Soviet Union." or the Soviet Union."

That accorded well with everything Molotov had already heard. He asked, "How much do you think the extensive damage Poland suffered as a result of the fighting will make Poles and Jews resent the Race?"

"There I fear I cannot tell you much." Nussboym gave the Soviet leader a bony grin. "I suffered my own extensive damage too early in the fighting to have an opinion. If you like, though, I will go back to investigate."

"I will think about that," Molotov said. "First, though, you plainly need more recovery time." Had the NKVD man argued with him, he would have sent Nussboym back to Poland right away-no tool was better than one that actively wanted to be used. But David Nussboym didn't argue. That left Molotov a trifle disappointed, though he showed it no more than he showed anything else.

Mordechai Anielewicz lifted a gla.s.s of plum brandy in salute. "L'chaim," "L'chaim," he said, and then added, "And to life as a whole family." he said, and then added, "And to life as a whole family."

"Omayn," his wife said. His sons and daughter raised their gla.s.ses-even Heinrich had a shot gla.s.s' worth of his wife said. His sons and daughter raised their gla.s.ses-even Heinrich had a shot gla.s.s' worth of slivovitz slivovitz tonight. Mordechai drank. So did Bertha and their children. tonight. Mordechai drank. So did Bertha and their children.

Heinrich hadn't drunk plum brandy more than once or twice before. Then, he'd taken tiny sips. Tonight, imitating his father, he knocked back the whole shot at once. He spluttered and choked a little and turned very red. "Am I poisoned?" he wheezed.

"No." Mordechai did his best not to laugh. "Believe me, you have to drink a lot more slivovitz slivovitz than that to get properly poisoned." than that to get properly poisoned."

"Mordechai!" Bertha Anielewicz said reprovingly.

But Anielewicz only grinned at his wife-and at Heinrich, whose color was returning to normal. "Besides, if you do drink too much, you don't usually know how poisoned you are till the next morning. You haven't had nearly enough to need to worry about that."

His wife sent him another reproachful look. He pretended not to see it. They'd been married long enough that he could get away with such things every now and then. The look his wife sent him for ignoring the first one warned him he couldn't get away with such things any too often.

His daughter Miriam was old enough to make the more regular acquaintance of slivovitz, slivovitz, but she'd had the good sense not to get greedy with what he'd given her. Now she raised her gla.s.s, which still held a good deal of the plum brandy. "And here's to Przemysl, for taking us in." but she'd had the good sense not to get greedy with what he'd given her. Now she raised her gla.s.s, which still held a good deal of the plum brandy. "And here's to Przemysl, for taking us in."

Everybody drank to that-everybody except Heinrich, who had nothing left to drink. The town in southern Poland, not far from the Slovakian border, hadn't been hit too hard in the fighting. And it kept its good-sized Jewish community. Back in 1942, the SS had been on the point of shipping the Jews to an extermination camp, but local Wehrmacht Wehrmacht officials hadn't let it happen-the Jews were doing important labor for them. And then the Lizards had driven the n.a.z.is out of Poland, and Przemysl's Jews survived. officials hadn't let it happen-the Jews were doing important labor for them. And then the Lizards had driven the n.a.z.is out of Poland, and Przemysl's Jews survived.

Thinking of Wehrmacht Wehrmacht men who'd been, if not decent, then at least pragmatic, made Mordechai also think of Johannes Drucker. He said, "I wonder if the German s.p.a.ce pilot ever found his kin." men who'd been, if not decent, then at least pragmatic, made Mordechai also think of Johannes Drucker. He said, "I wonder if the German s.p.a.ce pilot ever found his kin."

"I hope so," his wife said. "After all, his wife and children are part Jewish, too."

"No matter how little they like it." That was David, Mordechai's older son.

"He wasn't the worst of fellows," Anielewicz said. "I've known plenty of Germans worse, believe me." He used an emphatic cough.

"His own family helped remind him what being a human being meant." David was, at fifteen, convinced everything came in one of two colors: black or white. What he said here, though, probably held a lot of truth.

Bertha Anielewicz said, "He'll go his way, we'll go ours, and with any luck at all we'll never have anything to do with each other again. Odds are good, anyhow." That also probably held a lot of truth.

Before Mordechai could say so, Pancer walked up to him and said, "Beep!" The beffel stretched up toward him, extending its forelegs as far as they would go. That, he'd learned, meant it want to be scratched. He obliged. The beffel might have been hatched on Home, but it got on better with humans than the Lizards did.

"We should have drunk a toast to Pancer," Heinrich said. "If it weren't for him, we wouldn't all be here now."

Mordechai lifted the bottle of slivovitz. slivovitz. "Here, son. Do you want another drink? You can have one." Heinrich hastily shook his head. Anielewicz's grin covered his relief. He would have given the boy one more shot of brandy, but he was just as well pleased that Heinrich didn't want it. "Here, son. Do you want another drink? You can have one." Heinrich hastily shook his head. Anielewicz's grin covered his relief. He would have given the boy one more shot of brandy, but he was just as well pleased that Heinrich didn't want it.

"I'll tell you what I'd drink a toast to," Miriam said with a toss of the head, "and that's a bigger flat."

"This isn't so bad," Mordechai said. "Next to what things were like in Warsaw before the Lizards came, this is paradise."

"And in Lodz," his wife agreed. Their children didn't know how things had been back in the n.a.z.i-created ghettos. That also was all to the good.

Miriam didn't see the benefits of ignorance. "I'm tired of sleeping on a cot here in the front room," she said, and tossed her head again.

"We're all sleeping on cots," Mordechai pointed out. "Your brothers are in one bedroom, your mother and I in the other, and you have this room here. The only other places for you to sleep are under the shower or on the kitchen table."

"I know that," Miriam said impatiently. "It's why we need a bigger flat."

"It doesn't matter so much," Bertha Anielewicz said. "Everything we used to have went up in smoke. I wish it hadn't-I'd be lying if I said anything different-but we'll get by as long as we've got each other."

Miriam started to say something, then visibly thought better of it. Anielewicz wondered what it would have been. Maybe he was better off not knowing.

But his wife didn't need to wonder. She knew. She wagged a finger at her daughter. "You were going to say we've got altogether too much of each other, weren't you? But that's not so, either. Just remember what things were like in the barracks at that n.a.z.i's farm. Next to that, this is paradise, too."

"We didn't have any choice there, though," Miriam said.

"We don't have any choice here, either, not now," Bertha Anielewicz said. "But be patient for a little while, and we will. If your father hadn't tracked us down, we never would have had any choices there."

"And if Pancer hadn't beeped when he did, so Father heard him, he might never have tracked us down." Heinrich scratched his pet. The scaly little animal wiggled sinuously.

Miriam rolled her eyes. "If you were a goy, goy, you'd say that beffel ought to be canonized." you'd say that beffel ought to be canonized."

"Pancer deserves it more than some saints I can think of," Heinrich retorted.

"Enough of that," Mordechai Anielewicz said sharply. "The goyim goyim can afford to make jokes about us-they outnumber us ten to one. We can't afford to make jokes about them. Even with the Lizards to lean on, it's too dangerous." can afford to make jokes about us-they outnumber us ten to one. We can't afford to make jokes about them. Even with the Lizards to lean on, it's too dangerous."

His children looked ready to argue about that, too. They were less aware of how dangerous being a small minority could prove than he was. But before the argument could get going, the telephone rang. Bertha was closest to it. "I'll get it," she said, and did. A moment later, she held the handset out to Anielewicz. "For you. A member of the Race."

"Nesseref?" he asked, and his wife shrugged. He took the telephone. "I greet you," he said in the Lizards' language.

"And I greet you," the Lizard replied. "I am Odottoss, liaison officer between the Race's military and your Tosevite forces here in Poland. We have spoken before."

"Truth," Anielewicz agreed. "Shuttlecraft Pilot Nesseref was kind enough to give me your name. I thank you for the a.s.sistance you were able to give my mate and my hatchlings and me."

"You are welcome," Odottoss replied. "You and your fighters have served the Race well. It is only fair that you should have some recompense for that service."

"Again, I thank you. And now, superior sir, what can I do for you?" He did not for a moment believe the male of the Race had called merely to throw bouquets at him.

And he was right, for Odottoss inquired, "Do you know the whereabouts of the explosive-metal bomb you Jews have claimed to have since the end of the first round of fighting?"

"At the moment, I do not know that, no," Mordechai admitted. "Since the recent fighting against the Reich, Reich, I have been concerned with other things. Till now, no one has mentioned any problems with this explosive-metal bomb." I have been concerned with other things. Till now, no one has mentioned any problems with this explosive-metal bomb."

"I do not know that there are any," Odottoss said. "But I do not know that there are none, either. As best the Race has been able to determine, the bomb is not where we formerly thought it was. Have you ordered its transfer?"

"Have I personally? No," Anielewicz said. "But that does not mean other Jewish fighters may not have given such an order. For that matter, we never wanted the Race to know where we keep it."

"I understand your reasons for that," Odottoss said. "You will understand, I hope, our reasons for seeking this knowledge."

"I suppose so." Anielewicz tried not to sound grudging, but it wasn't easy.

"Very well, then," the Lizard said. "If this bomb has been moved clandestinely, you will also understand our concern about where it is now and to what use it may be put." Clandestinely moving the explosive-metal bomb wasn't easy. Mordechai wondered how well Odottoss understood that. The device weighed about ten tonnes. The Germans had just been learning how to make such bombs in 1944. They'd got better since.

But even that old, primitive weapon would be devastating if it went off. Anielewicz wasn't sure it could detonate. He also wasn't sure it couldn't. He realized there were too many things about which he wasn't sure. "I shall do my best to find out what is going on here, superior sir," he said.

"And then you will report to me?" Odottoss asked.

"I may not give you much detail," Mordechai said. "If I find nothing much has gone wrong, but that the bomb was moved for security reasons during the fighting, I would just as soon have its whereabouts stay secret from the Race."

"I understand," Odottoss replied. "I do not approve, mind you, but I understand. Arrangements in Poland have been so irregular for so long, one more irregularity probably will not hurt much. But I would appreciate learning that the bomb is safe and is in responsible hands."

"That is a bargain," Anielewicz said. "If I learn that, I will tell you. Farewell."

After he hung up, Bertha asked, "What was that all about? You speak the Lizards' language a lot better than I do." Once Mordechai had explained, she said, "You don't know where the bomb is, either? It's not a good thing to lose."

"I know." Mordechai started to reach for the phone, then checked himself. "I'd better not call from here. If the Lizards know where I am, I have to a.s.sume they're tapping the line. Why make things easy for them?"

He needed several days before he could get hold of Yitzkhak, one of the Jews up in Glowno who'd had charge of the bomb, on a line he reckoned secure. They spent a couple of minutes congratulating each other on being alive. Then Yitzkhak said, "I suppose you're calling about the package." Even on a secure line, he didn't want to come right out and talk about an explosive-metal bomb.

Mordechai didn't blame him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," he answered. "Somebody's worried that it might get delivered to the wrong address. The post's gone to pot lately, and everybody knows it."

"Well, that's true. Actually, I'm afraid it could happen." Yitzkhak was precise to the point of fussiness. If he said he was afraid, he meant it. "The people who took charge of it during the confusion are pretty careless, and they may try to deliver it themselves."

"Oy!" That was about the worst news Moishe could imagine. Who had got hold of the bomb during the fighting? Had some of David Nussboym's NKVD henchmen spirited it off toward Russia, or would some Jewish hotheads try to give the Greater German That was about the worst news Moishe could imagine. Who had got hold of the bomb during the fighting? Had some of David Nussboym's NKVD henchmen spirited it off toward Russia, or would some Jewish hotheads try to give the Greater German Reich Reich one last kick while it was down? Mordechai phrased the question somewhat differently: "Has it headed east or west?" one last kick while it was down? Mordechai phrased the question somewhat differently: "Has it headed east or west?"

"West, I think," Yitzkhak answered.

"Oy!" Anielewicz repeated. If a bomb went off in Germany now, would the n.a.z.is reckon themselves betrayed and try to retaliate? Did they have anything left with which they Anielewicz repeated. If a bomb went off in Germany now, would the n.a.z.is reckon themselves betrayed and try to retaliate? Did they have anything left with which they could could retaliate? He suspected they would and could. With a sigh, he said, "I suppose we have to try to get it back." He paused. "Dammit." retaliate? He suspected they would and could. With a sigh, he said, "I suppose we have to try to get it back." He paused. "Dammit."

Tao Sheng-Ming came up to Liu Han and Liu Mei with his shaved head gleaming and with an impudent grin on his face. "I greet you, superior female," the devil-boy said in the language of the little scaly devils. "Give me an order. Whatsoever you may request, it shall be done."

Liu Han stuck to Chinese: "Suppose I order you not to be so absurd?" But she shook her head. "No. That would be foolish. No good officer gives an order knowing it will be disobeyed."

Tao bowed as if she'd paid him a great compliment. "You give me too much credit," he said, still in the scaly devils' tongue. "All I aim to be is the biggest nuisance possible."

"Do you mean to the little devils or to the People's Liberation Army?" Liu Han's voice was dry.

"Why, both, of course," Tao Sheng-Ming answered. "Life would be boring if we all did exactly what we were supposed to all the time."

"That is a truth," Liu Mei said. "A little unpredictability is an a.s.set." She also used the little devils' language, as if to show solidarity with Tao Sheng-Ming.

Liu Han thought her daughter's response entirely predictable. Liu Mei was fond of the devil-boy. Liu Han wondered what, if anything, would come of that. Nothing at all would come of it if Tao didn't pay more attention to what came out of his mouth before he opened it. "If you do not precisely obey the orders of your superiors, you will find yourself purged as an unreliable," she warned him. "That would be unfortunate."

"I would certainly think so," Tao Sheng-Ming said. He had trouble taking anything seriously, even the Chinese Communist Party.

Liu Mei might have been fond of him, but she was a dedicated revolutionary. "You must obey the dictates of the Party, Tao," she said seriously. "It is our only hope against the unbridled imperialism of the little scaly devils."

He drew himself up, as if affronted. "I did not come to your rooming-house to argue politics," he said. "I came to find out how things were going, and what I could do to help them go."

"Do you think no one will tell you when the time comes?" Liu Han demanded. "Do you think you will be left on the sidewalk standing around when the revolutionary struggle begins anew?"

"Well, no," he admitted, using Chinese for the first time-perhaps out of embarra.s.sment. "But I am not a mahjongg tile, to be played by somebody else. I am my own person, and I want to know what I am doing, and why."

Liu Mei spoke to her mother: "He sounds more like an American than a proper Chinese."

That held some truth. Liu Han chose not to acknowledge it. She said, "He sounds like a foolish young man who thinks he is more important than he is." She didn't want to anger Tao Sheng-Ming too much, so she tempered that by adding, "He is important to a degree, though, and he will-I a.s.sure you, he will will-learn what he's supposed to know when he's supposed to know it."

Unabashed, Tao said, "But I want to know more, and I want to know sooner."

"I will tell you what you need to know, not what you want to know," Liu Han said. "What you need to know is, soon we will rise against the little scaly devils. When we do, you and your fellow devil-boys will help lure them to destruction. They will trust you more than they would trust other human beings. You will make them pay for their mistake."

"Yes!" Tao Sheng-Ming said, and used an emphatic cough. His eyes glowed with antic.i.p.ation.

Liu Han antic.i.p.ated that most of the devil-boys a.s.signed to mislead the little scaly devils would pay the price for their deception. She said nothing about that. If Tao Sheng-Ming didn't see it for himself, he would perform better as a result of his ignorance.

When she thought about such tactics, she sometimes knew brief shame. But it was only brief, because she remained convinced the struggle against the imperialist little devils was more important than any individual's fate.

"I need to tell you one other thing," Tao said. "Some of the scaly devils are beginning to suspect that something may be going on. They are talking about making moves of some kind. My fellow devil-boys and I do not know as much about that as we would like, because they quiet down around us. They know a lot of us speak their language, and they do not want us overhearing."

"That is not good," Liu Mei said.