"I've got to, haven't I."

Buckner shifted-slumped down in the chair. "Have you been watching the dispatches from Russia?"

"I've seen the papers."

"The press tends to put things in the best light. Just the same you must have got the drift. Moscow's been in a panic. The streets alive with looters-Stalin's had to impose Draconian regulations to restore order."

Alex watched the American's face. The gloomy voice droned on: "This wasn't in the press. A few weeks ago Stalin asked Churchill and Roosevelt to send troops."

Alex knew that-from Vlasov. He said nothing.

Buckner looked up. "Can you imagine what it must have cost him to make that request? Asking us to send our armies to fight on Russian soil? He wants thirty Allied combat divisions." He stabbed the arm of the wooden chair with his forefinger: "That's how unreliable he thinks his own army is."

"He brought it on himself."

"Sure. Okay. A few weeks ago he ordered the marshaling yards cleared at the Kazan Station-it's the only Moscow depot still in operation. He cleared the yards so he could load dozens of trains with the records and personnel of the Soviet Union's ministries and agencies. Most of them have been evacuated to the Kuybyshev-most of the commissars and functionaries and government departments. Stalin's moved his headquarters totally into the command bunkers under the Kremlin. In Moscow right now the only top people left with Stalin are Beria, Malenkov, Zhukov, Molotov, Vlasov, Dekanozov and General Novikov-he's their air force chief.

"In the meantime all these evacuations out to the east have interrupted the flow of those Siberian divisions into the battle sector. Moscow's been hanging by its fingernails. A week ago Stalin had a conference underground in the Kremlin to a.n.a.lyze the situation. It's pretty bleak. The Germans are on the G.o.d d.a.m.ned doorstep. They've made holes in the Mozhaisk Line-the panzer columns are within twenty-five miles of Moscow and there are spots where they've actually got German tanks inside the outskirts of the city.

"Once Moscow falls the ball game's over, Alex. It's like London or Paris-the center of everything. Railroads, telephone, telegraph, highways. Take Moscow and you've got European Russia."

Alex took his time responding. "You're afraid the Germans are going to beat us to it."

"They may. Then again they may not. That could be just as bad for you."

"I don't follow that."

"Didn't think you would. It goes like this. It's snowing in Moscow now. It's snowing in Leningrad. It's even snowing down in the Ukraine. That's the Russian element-winter."

"It'll stall the Germans," Alex said. "We've counted on that."

"Well the Germans have given Stalin a lot of help let me tell you. Hitler's turned out to be a G.o.d d.a.m.ned stupid fool after all."

"You're talking about the atrocities now."

"I sure am. He's defeating himself where Stalin couldn't have done it in a hundred years. They've been slaughtering civilians. Butchering Jews. Maiming little kids, raping Russian women. They're teaching the Russians how to hate n.a.z.is. They didn't hate them before. They threw flowers at the Wehrmacht. But then the second echelon came in-the SS exterminators-and the word's got out across the country. Hitler's lost the support he had in Russia. He's given the Red Army what they never had before. They've found the guts to fight.

"That pitiful G.o.d d.a.m.ned horse cavalry of Budyenny's been stopping panther tanks in their tracks. It's hard to believe but there it is."

"I'm not getting your point," Alex said.

"The point is, old son, if Stalin can hold the Germans all by himself then the Allies don't need you."

Alex contrived a hard smile. "You can't have it both ways."

"Can't I?"

"You're saying you can't use us if Stalin loses and you don't need us if he wins. The same conditions obtained when we started all this. Nothing's changed."

"You're wrong. The whole-"

"Stalin isn't whipping them," Alex said, riding right over him. "He's only doing a bit better than he was before. He's had time to get over the surprise-he's had time to bring in a million troops from Siberia and the SS has given him some help with his morale. Naturally the German advance has slowed down-their supply lines are long and it's the dead of winter up there. So the Germans will sit in their trenches until spring and then they'll finish the job-unless Russia's got the kind of leadership the country will follow."

Buckner was shaking his head. "You don't get this yet. The United States is gearing up for war. We're too late and too slow because we've still got too many fools in Congress but we're going to be in it-maybe six months from now, maybe a year. You've got to see it from the President's point of view. What we need is whatever gives us the best odds that Hitler won't nail down a quick victory. After the next twelve to eighteen months we'll be able to handle it."

"And?"

"We're bound to support whatever forces offer the best chances of keeping Hitler off balance. Any interest we take in Russian internal politics is purely a secondary matter. The war takes precedence. And if Stalin proves he can hold the Germans to their present lines then we'd be fools to rock the boat by trying to overthrow the people who are containing Hitler for us.

"As of right now we're still supporting you. It could change. If I get orders from Washington between now and the time you people go in, I'm going to have to scrub your operation."

Buckner attempted a smile that was evidently intended to be rea.s.suring. "Look, we're in a position of luxury. We're not in the war. We can play with it from a distance-we can still take the chance with you. It would be different if we were in the war, say, or if Stalin managed to wipe out Guderian's army in the next ten days. Or if Hitler took Moscow. It isn't all that likely to happen, is it, but if it does you've got to be ready to stand down. Understand?"

It had taken a great effort of will for the Americans to get off the mark in the first place: it was always easier to deal with the devil you knew; even if Roosevelt didn't like Stalin at least he though he knew how to treat with him. The Whites were an unknown quant.i.ty to Washington and the President was prepared to deal with them only so long as he had time to feel out their intentions. If the lines around Moscow remained static it might not risk too much to have a sudden replacement of the Moscow regime-but if something else should change the picture then Washington no longer would have the lat.i.tude to risk upsetting everything.

But Alex had no intention of scrubbing the program. n.o.body was going to stop it now-not Roosevelt and not Hitler and certainly not a nervous War Department colonel.

What he said was, "We'll just have to hope nothing changes the status quo in the next couple of weeks, won't we."

"I suppose we do at that." Buckner could be trusted not to be trusted: it was a form of understanding.

"You filled Churchill in. You owe us the same courtesy." Buckner let it hang in the air and when it elicited no response he said, "Somebody took a shot at you in Boston. Somebody took another shot at you just a few days ago. Suppose the next one doesn't miss? What happens to this operation?"

"The operation goes ahead on schedule. With me or without."

"Then you've briefed your subordinates?"

"No."

"Now I call that double-talk, Alex."

"It's like a blackmail scheme," Alex told him. "The plan's written down-every detail. In a safe place. If something happens to me it's delivered into the hands of the White Russian coalition. They can select my successor and proceed with the minimum delay."

Buckner said, "For Christ's sake."

"What's the matter?"

"Is that any way to run a military operation? Jesus Christ."

"Come on Glenn. Spit it out."

"You've given us the overall plan. Grudgingly but you've told us. Your dispatch a month ago pretty much covered as much as you wanted to let us see. You're going to draw the Soviet High Command out of the Kremlin and hit them from the air and take over communications and headquarters on the ground. Now I want the G.o.d d.a.m.ned details and I'm not stepping out of this room until I've got them."

"Then you'd better make yourself comfortable."

"Is that a flat refusal?"

"Not at all. But you'll spend the better part of the next week in this room before you find out anything from me. I'll spell out the whole design for you when I'm ready to. It'll be well in advance of our D-day. But it won't be today and it won't be tomorrow."

Buckner blinked. "You know sometimes I think I'd have got more cooperation out of that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Va.s.sily Devenko."

"You might have."

"I could pull your airplanes out right now, Alex."

"No. Not while this thing has a chance of working. Don't make threats you can't carry out-it doesn't help either of us."

Buckner stood up abruptly. "You got a place to billet me where I'll be out of the way?"

"We'll find something."

"Good. I wouldn't want to miss a thing."

He sent Sergei off with Buckner and went back into the office. Sensations of trouble rubbed against him. Buckner acted the fool but some of it was sham; he was cleverer than he seemed. He was Roosevelt's running dog and if he received instructions to interfere actively he'd be an antagonist to reckon with-it would be unwise to be disarmed by his bl.u.s.tering buffoonery. He had to be handled with extreme caution. He had to be told the plan; he had to be told soon enough to rea.s.sure him and late enough to prevent him doing anything about it.

String him along, he thought-Just keep stringing him along. And hope Buckner didn't tumble to it too soon.

On the twenty-fourth the political echelon of the Russian Liberation Coalition arrived on the tarmac and Alex was on the field to meet them with his officers-a welcoming party from which Irina detached herself to make her private greetings to her father.

The contingent numbered twenty-eight White Russian dignitaries; most of them were of n.o.ble birth. There were two Princes-old Michael from Zurich and the Coalition's leader, Prince Leon; Felix in his dress-whites made a third prince. There were five counts, Anatol among them, and seven Barons including Oleg Zimovoi and the diminutive Yuri Ivanov who would be the new government's Minister of Finance. General Savinov was in the party, red-faced and redolent of gin. There was one sixty-seven-year-old Admiral who had once commanded the Black Sea Fleet; and an a.s.sortment of well-dressed men most of whose faces he knew-the administrators and specialists who would take over key functions in the Russian bureaucracy.

Alex was alarmed by Prince Leon's appearance. The old man had lost a great deal of weight. The hands dangled from his sleeves and his skin had gone the hue of veal. His movements were uncertain: he prodded the tarmac with his cane and hesitated before he put his weight on it. His weary eyes were shattered by bloodshot lines but when he came before Alex he straightened up and stabbed a finger forcefully into the air by way of greeting; and he beamed.

He'd sent the unsuspecting Buckner out to observe field training for the day. The hangar was cleared and the visitors arranged themselves on the benches; Felix joined Alex at the podium and after a suitable interval of chatter Alex brought the a.s.semblage to order.

"We'll be going over your individual duties in detail in the next few days with each of you. In the meantime I'll outline the general scope of things.

"We leave here in four days' time in eight aircraft. Our destination is a landing field on the Finnish mainland. Several of you have been in consultation with the Finnish government and I've made a few specific arrangements of my own. As you know the diplomatic situation's confused because Finland is at war with the Soviets again. The Finns are no longer neutral-they're a belligerent power. The Allies have severed formal relations with Helsinki but they won't declare war on Finland unless the Finns enter a pact with Hitler, which seems unlikely at the moment-the Finns don't want any part of Hitler, they only want to get back the ground they lost to Russia two years ago. Part of our arrangement is that when we've taken power we're to cede that territory back to Finland. In return for that pledge the Finns are supporting this operation.

"The Soviet leaders will be on a certain train at a certain time. We know the train's schedule-we know where to find it at a given time. We intend to stop the train by bombing it from the air. Then our ground troops will administer the coup de grace. We'll have Stalin's corpse to prove we've done the job."

He had to wait for the taut murmur to die away; then he went on: "The n.a.z.is control the approaches to the Baltic Sea. So we've got to carry everything with us by air. Our bombers will fly with full bomb-loads and auxiliary fuel tanks and we'll have to stuff the transports to their maximum weight limits. For that reason I ask that you leave behind anything that isn't absolutely vital.

"The operation-code name Steel Bear-is scheduled to take off from the Finland airstrip on a date you'll know well in advance. The flight plan requires a nonstop flight to a target of approximately one thousand kilometers-six hundred miles-not a tough run for these planes. We're timing our approach to coincide with the arrival of Stalin's train at the target point. Of course it may be a bit late-they've had to clear the rails of snow every day for the past two weeks-but we're prepared to circle the target area until the train appears. There's ample fuel for that. If our bombers are challenged by Red fighters they'll respond with the proper Red Air Force recognition code for that day.

"Our first-echelon of parachute commandos will have taken off twelve hours previously. The parachute drop will have been made by night into fields as close as possible to the target areas a.s.signed to each team. There are a half dozen teams. One key target is the wireless transmitter towers on the Moscow-Noginsk road-they've become the center for outgoing transmissions since the towers on the west of Moscow were bombed by the Luftwaffe and the n.a.z.is cut the western telephone networks. The telephone lines to the east are wired through a subsidiary central switchboard on the Noginsk line; that switchboard is the target of Major Solov's team of paratroops. Both the switchboard and the wireless transmitter station are piped into the Kremlin. By taking these two points we cut the Kremlin off from contact with units outside Moscow, and we inform those in the Kremlin of the coup d'etat.

"As some of you know we've been working with the a.s.sistance of a man inside the Kremlin. He's a member of the General Staff, I can reveal that much. He will be ready to join us at the communications center the moment we have captured it and confirmed the death of the Soviet leaders. The general and I will announce that we've jointly taken command of the military forces of Russia.

"Major Postsev's team will secure the Krivoy airfield, the nearest field to Moscow that's in use at present. Prince Felix will land there after having bombed the train. He will proclaim the liberation. We'll warn the Red Army commanders in the Kremlin that if they don't join us we'll cut off their communications-they'd lose control of their armies and the Germans would be able to take Moscow in a matter of hours; they'll have little choice.

"Our advance line of combat personnel will move into the Kremlin wearing Red uniforms. According to plan this should take place approximately twelve hours after the bombing of Stalin's train. Prince Felix will arrive in the Kremlin when it's secured and the lines of communication then will be restored. By this time your echelon will be airborne en route to Moscow. You'll be driven from the Krivoy airfield to the Kremlin. In this manner we expect to provide continuity in governmental administration with an interruption too short to allow the n.a.z.is to take advantage of it.

"Most of the Soviet departments have been evacuated to the Kuybyshev but Red Army headquarters remains in Moscow and that's our key. Once we have control of the armies the other departments must fall into line. Within a few days many of you will travel on to the Kuybyshev to a.s.sume control of your agencies. There will be revolutionary resistance and partisans to contend with-it can't be helped-but the German threat will guarantee our success. We're presenting them with an ultimatum and they'll have no time to organize resistance; they'll have the simple choice-go along or go under.

"That sums up the operational plan. We're ready for questions now."

He looked up from the desk and Buckner was there, leaning casually in the doorway with one stiff arm up against the jamb. "Well?"

"Pack your things, Glenn. We're moving out."

"Not without filling me in first."

"Happy to. Take a seat while I finish this." He went back to the a.s.signment rosters.

When he looked up Buckner was sitting there with his hands folded across his flat belly. The picture of wry patience.

It was nearly noon. In Washington it would be about seven in the morning. Alex said, "You've been communicating with Washington nearly every day."

"Sure."

"Using the Navy shortwave from Scapa Flow, right?"

"You got it." Buckner smiled a little. "I thought I had a tail the past few days."

"You're lucky I let you off the base at all."

"Okay so you've found out my deep dark secret, h.e.l.l if you'd asked me I'd have told you. I'm the President's boy, Alex-I got to keep in touch with the home office."

"If I'd had objections to it you'd have heard them long before now." Alex pushed his seat back. "We're taking off this afternoon, Glenn. Shortwave only works at night. You won't have a chance to talk to Washington before we go."

He saw the impact of it and he went right on before Buckner could work up the anger to respond. "I promised to spell out the plan for you and I'm going to keep the promise right now. It happens the transatlantic cable was cut last week by an American depth-charge attack on a U-boat; otherwise I'd have strung you along until takeoff. But there's no telephone to Washington now. Next week they'll have the cable repaired again, won't they. Fortunes of war, Glenn."

"You're a clever b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Sure I am. Now there's a string attached to what I'm about to tell you."

"What string?"

"You're going with us as far as our forward base. It's in Finland."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm glad you feel like that. You won't be able to communicate with Washington at all until we've accomplished the mission. My radio people have strict orders to keep you away from all wireless gear."

Buckner took it stoically. "Thanks heaps-pal."

"Don't try to make any phone calls, Glenn. I've had the outside line disconnected. n.o.body communicates off the base without my authorization."

"Thought of everything, haven't you."

"I always had a fair head for security," he murmured, "n.o.body's sabotaging this operation now. n.o.body."

Buckner did a strange thing. He nodded and smiled. "If I were in your shoes I'd do exactly the same thing. I had my orders, Alex-but in the gut I'm on your side. I want to see you people pull this thing off. I remember Moscow under Joe Stalin-you know how it is. Now let's hear the plan. Just for the h.e.l.l of it."

It was a motley flotilla: three ma.s.sive B-17S, three American Dakota transports, two Canadian De Havilland transports. The British Spitfires would pick them up at the coastline and escort them to the limit of their fuel ranges. The remainder of the flight-past the Denmark straits and up the Baltic into Finland-they'd be on their own. The guns of the B-17S were turreted and loaded; belts of ammunition lay gleaming dully of Cosmoline beneath the gunners' swivel seats. The aircrews a.s.sembled on the tarmac and Pappy Johnson walked among them wearing his mustard-collared flying jacket; he was flying right-seat in one of the transports this time but he was still the man they listened to.

"These aircraft are overloaded. I'd like you misters to remember that. You're flying at maximum gross weight and then some. Do me the kindness of remembering to keep your noses down on the turns, all right? Let's go then."