# The Andropov File 2

Лев Переводчик Шкловский

THREE

Joseph Kadinskov kept his shaggy blond head turned

away from the body as he closed the valve and removed

the needles from the corpse.

Odd, he thought. In his career he had embalmed over

five hundred deceased, and not once had he ever had a

shaking hand or a queasy feeling.

This night he had had both.

Absently, he pulled a rubber sheet up over the naked

body to hide the grotesqueness of the empty stomach

cavity held open by clamps.

He stopped the sheet at her chin and found that he

couldn't cover her face. It was a beautiful face, even in

death, and young.

"pure

"Animals," Kadinskov murmured aloud,

beasts."

He was about to step away from the steel-topped

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table, when the medallion around her neck slipped,


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table, when the medallion around her neck slipped,

making a resounding clanking sound on the metal sur-

face.

Suddenly the air in the concrete-lined cold room was

more dank and chill than usual.

Catholic, Kadinskov thought, reaching for the

medallion, and no priest to give her last rites.

The medallion, like the body and room, was cold in

his fingers. On one side of it was an image of the Virgin,

kneeling, her arms upraised to heaven. On the other side

was an inscription in Spanish.

Kadinskov knew no Spanish, but he mouthed the

words phonetically. Somehow they seemed to burn into

his brain before he slipped the medallion back beneath

the rubber sheet.

A single bell chimed, and he glanced up at the metal

box near the ceiling. One single bulb of four glowed redi

the rear entrance.

They had arrived.

He stripped off his rubber gloves and moved up the

concrete stairs to the main floor. At the end of a long

hall he opened a heavy steel door.

Three men stood just ouside the door in the alley. The

short, fat one Kadinskov recognized as Gregor Leven-

tov, even though the man had never offered his name in

their previous talks. The two men who flanked Leven-

tov wore broad-brimmed, dark hats and bulky coats.

Their wide faces were devoid of expression and their

eyes were dead. They were clones of a hundred others

who passed in and out of KGB headquarters at 2 Dzer-

zhinsky Square daily.

Beyond the three men, Kadinskov could see a Zil

limousine, a hearse, and a small Volga sedan parked in

the alley.

Leventov didn't speak until the steel door was closed

and secured behind them.

THE ANDROPOV FILE

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THE ANDROPOV FILE

"We are alone here?" he asked.

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"Of course. Everything is just as you stipulated. com-

rade. No one has seen the woman except myself."

"Where is she?"

"This way," Kadinskov replied, surprised at the

calmness in his voice, "in the cold room."

They moved down the steps single file and entered the

room. The two clones stayed in the background as

Kadinskov and Leventov moved to the table. Without

preamble, the KGB colonel ripped the sheet from the

body.

Kadinskov winced but stayed silent.

"Good, Joseph Ivanovich, you have done well. Tell

me, after she has been sewn up, will the scar seem only

the result of an autopsy?"

"It should," Kadinskov replied. "Did you know she

was pregnant?"

To Kadinskov's surprise, Leventov smiled broadly.

He almost beamed at the news.

"No? Really? Excellent! It will make suicide a more

acceptable reality to her death. You will put that in the

report, Of course."

Now Kadinskov did feel sick. He pulled on a fresh set

of rubber gloves, and then kept his hands busy with in-

struments on a side table so they would be out of the

other man's sight.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leventov with-

draw a small, oilskin-wrapped package from his pocket.

"Proceed. Here is the package. 'W

"My papers," Kadinskov replied.

"What?" The man's bushy gray eyebrows went up

and his voice boomed in the small room.

I want to see them, hold them."

"My papers

Leventov exchanged looks with one Of the other two

men, and then returned his gaze to the mortician with a

shake Of his head.

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"You worry me, Joseph Ivanovich. Do I sense mis-

trust in your voice?"

"No, comrade, I am simply, shall we say, a careful

man. My papers?"

USing his free hand, Leventov withdrew an envelope

from his coat pocket and passed it over.

Quickly, Kadinskov examined the contents. He

sighed with relief. No matter how they tried to trick him

now, at least he had a fighting chance to escape.

It was all there: an explicit route, travel papers inside

the country, an exit visa, his passport, and a credit

voucher for twenty thousand American dollars drawn

on the Eurobank in Geneva, Switzerland.

"Satisfied, Joseph Ivanovich?"

' 'Very much so. Do you care to watch?"

' 'Very much so."

Kadinskov took the package. Carefully. he placed it

in the stomach cavity. Then, just as carefully, he added

a puttylike plastic substance from a tube to encase it and

give the stomach fullness when it was closed.

This done, he removed the clamps and folded the skin

flaps back together. Using his finest, most intricate

stitch, he sutured the wound until it was tightly closed.

At last he lifted his hands in a gesture of finality.

"Done."

Leventov leaned close to the wound. He poked and

probed until he seemed satisfied. ' 'Is there any chance at

all that the wound will be opened at the other end?"

Kadinskov shrugged. "There is always the chance if

there is some question about the manner of death. It

also depends on where the other end is. "

Leventov seemed perplexed. He frowned, and at last

seemed to shrug to himself, as if answering the man's

question made no difference.

"Spain. She will be going to Madrid."

Kadinskov's stomach turned. The other man's ready

THE ANDROPOV FILE

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THE ANDROPOV FILE

answer had told him worlds.

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think she will be buried just as she is, comrade.

And because her death is listed as a suicide, not in a

Catholic cemetery. The Spanish revere death and have a

great deal of respect for the remains. doubt that

anyone will check the body."

"Good. What else?"

"Just dress her. I retained the clothes she was wear-

ing, there on that other table."

Leventov snapped his fingers. The two clones went

into action. Kadinskov was drawn to the side.

"There are the certificates of release for the body, the

embalming code and certificate, and your report on the

state of the remains. Sign, Joseph Ivanovich, and pencil

a notation on the bottom as to the pregnancy."

Kadinskov did as he was told, and then glanced

quickly over the papers. "There is no name, comrade."

"That will be taken care of," Leventov said, snatch-

ing the papers. "Make yourself ready to leave."

"I'll get my bag."

Kadinskov moved from the cold room into his tiny

office with a tight smile on his face.

So, he thought, Leventov had to tell him a few things,

but not everything.

But it had been enough to warn him.

From a side pocket in his bag he took a Tokarev 7.62

automatic pistol. It was already loaded with eight

rounds and equipped with a three-inch Czech-made

silencer. He lowered his pants and slipped the automatic

into a sling already wound around his right leg. He was

just rebuckling his belt when Leventov called out to

him.

"Coming, comrade, coming."

He jammed a fur hat on his head and pushed his arms

into the cheap but warm and bulky cloth coat.

The two clones were carrying the body up the stairs

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when he returned to the cold room. Leventov spoke as

they climbed the steps.

"The driver will take you to Byelorussia Station. The

Leningrad train leaves at precisely midnight. You will

change to the train for Helsinki at Vyborg. From there,

good luck to you, Joseph Ivanovich."

"Thank you, comrade."

"And, Kadinskov, I don't think I need remind you to

talk to no one at the station here, at Vyborg, or at the

frontier. Understand?"

"Of course."

Leventov left him at the car, strutted to the waiting

Zil, and climbed into the back. Kadinskov settled into

the rear seat of the Volga, and it lurched from the alley.

He moved into the opposite corner from the driver

and slid his hand through the coat's slitted pocket.

Gently he closed his fingers over the reassuring hardness

of the Tokarev.

As he studied the back of the driver's head, he

wondered where they would try to kill him.

General Ivor Shalin poked the button on the panel

and the elevator swiftly lifted him through the center of

the opulent apartment complex to the eighteenth floor.

His plans had been made for months, and clarified in

the last twenty-four hours.

He had dismissed his driver for the night, but he re-

tained a second set of keys to the Zil. His office had

already been informed that he might be called away on a

moment's notice for an inspection trip to Tallinn, in

Estonia. If anything went wrong in the next day or two

before the old man died, a fast boat would get him to

safety in Helsinki.

He opened the door to his apartment, and even be-

fore he switched on the light he sensed their presence.

Calmly, he flicked it on and smiled.

But the smile faded quickly. His beautiful apartment


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THE ANDROPOV FILE

33

was a shambles. Wallpaper and paneling had been

ripped from the walls. The furniture had been shredded

and his paintings ripped from their frames. Even the

double French doors leading to the balcony had been

taken from their hinges and ripped apart. Cold wind

and snow gusted into the apartment.

The doors to both bedrooms were open, and he could

see that they hadn't fared much better.

There were four of them, three men in civilian clothes

and a woman in uniform with major's pips on her

shoulder boards. Two of them he knew—the woman,

and the small dark man on the sofa, whose hand rested

possessively and protectively on a large black bag at his

side.

' 'What is the meaning of this?" Shalin blustered. "l

will have you all counting trees for this insult!"

The reference to being sent to Siberia caused no reac-

tion. The four faces looking at him could have been

carved from stone.

The woman stepped forward. She was tall, big.

boned, and even in the somewhat ill-fitting uniform her

figure was voluptuous. Her blond hair was pulled back

into a tight bun and fastened beneath her garrison cap.

Relaxed, Shalin knew her as a beautiful woman, her

features perfectly formed around large, ice-green eyes,

her pale skin as smooth as stretched silk.

But now, standing with her hands folded beneath her

breasts, her feet wide in a defiant stance, and her lips

pressed tightly together, she looked like a viper about to

strike.

"Comrade General, I am Major Anya Annamovna

Chevola."

"I know who you are. What I want to know is on

what authority have you done all this!"

"The highest authority, Comrade General, the very

highest. And I think you know why we are here."

Shalin's eyes floated toward the dark little man sitting


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Shalin's eyes floated toward the dark little man sitting

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NICK CARTER

so serenely on the sofa with the bag. His name was An-

ton Dubchov, and he held the distinction of being the

master interrogator of Lubyanka. Shalin had no doubt

that the bag he fondled so lovingly held the horrible

tools of his trade: tools Shalin had seen him use on

others many times in the secret bowels of the old prison.

Involuntarily, he shuddered.

"What do you want?" he demanded, forcing steel

into his voice.

"l think you already know the answer to that ques-

tion as well, Comrade General. My orders come directly

from the-Presidium of the Supreme Soviet. Obviously,

for security reasons, we cannot take you to Lubyanka.

That is the reason for Comrade Dubchov's presence. "

"I see. Then I am not under arrest."

C g 'Not officially."

"May I smoke?"

' 'No!" Her voice was an angry whiplash. ' 'You are to

be interrogated, Ivor Yuryevich Shalin, for the crime of

theft against the state and treason against the party and

Soviet people."

Shalin kept up his bluff. "What is it I am supposed to

have stolen?"

' 'We do not have time to play the cat to your mouse,

comrade. Obviously, we have not found what we are

looking for in the apartment. Your briefcase."

Shalin handed it over. Both Of the men searched it

thoroughly, and shook their heads toward the major.

"Comrade Shalin,"

she barked, "remove your

clothes!

There is a feeling of utter defenselessness about com-

plete nudity. Although one knows consciously that or-

dinary clothing gives no protection against lethal

weapons or modern forms of torture, there is an

unreasoning and panicky sense of vulnerability that ac.

companies nakedness.


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THE ANDROPOV FILE

35

The thought of it contracted Shalin's hard belly

muscles and brought a faint mist of red over his eyes.

He controlled himself with an effort as he walked across

the room toward the liquor cabinet.

"What are you doing?" the woman hissed. ' 'I have

ordered you to remove your clothes! "

"l am going to have a drink, comrade," Shalin said,

pouring himself a glass of vodka and retaining the bottle

in his right hand.

Major Anya Chevola pulled a revolver from the hol-

ster at her waist. "You will do as I say, comrade, or they

will do it for you."

"Come, come, Anya, do you take me for a fool? You

won't shoot me without interrogating me first. And

before I allow you to do that, I insist ... no, I demand

that you call Valentinovka. I want to talk to the Chair-

man."

Major Anya Chevola's lips turned downward in the

most grotesque imitation Of a smile Shalin had ever

seen.

"l am afraid that is impossible. Comrade Chairman

Andropov died two hours ago."

Shalin could not stop the color from draining out of

his face. He could feel it and knew that the others saw it.

Just below and to his left, he heard a dull thud. He

looked. Anton Dubchov was grinning up at him like a

vulture. He had dropped the case open to display his in-

struments.

It was over. If he could talk to Andropov, appeal to

their friendship, explain that he had only taken the

microfilm for safekeeping until the time came to destroy

it...

But he couldn't, not now. The empty box must have

been discovered just before Andropov died, and the

order given.

Dubchov began to unload his case.


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or er gwe .

Dubchov began to unload his case.

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NICK CARTER

No, Shalin thought, never! I am a hero Of the Soviet

Union! I have followed the party line my whole life,

degraded myself a thousand times overfor the glory Of

another man!

I will not be degraded agaim

Suddenly, all Shalin's concentration was on Anton

Dubchov's ugly, leering face.

He flipped the vodka bottle in his hand and caught it

by the base. He whirled it so the hundred-proof vodka

spurted out and into Dubchov's face and eyes.

The woman and one of the other men were stunned

into immobility. The other man started toward Shalin.

Shalin continued the downward swing as Dubchov

sputtered and dug his fingers into his blinded eyes. The

neck of the bottle slammed against an edge of the cab-

inet and cracked off, so the jagged remains stayed in

Shalin's hand.

The KGB man came after him with a long, arcing

swing. The fist caught Shalin on the side of the head,

momentarily staggering him. He avoided a second blow,

sidestepped the man's body, and lurched around him.

He lunged forward with the saw-toothed weapon out-

thrust, ramming the jagged edges viciously into Anton

Dubchov's throat, and twisted as he rammed.

There was one faint, inarticulate gurgle as Dubchov

died horribly with the flesh of his face and throat in

shreds and crimson blood gushing from the pierced

jugular vein.

Shalin stood over him, breathing heavily, with the

bottle still gripped in his hand and Dubchov's blood

dripping from it down onto the faceless thing on the

floor.

"Drop it, Comrade General! I will kill you if I

must! " Anya Chevola shouted.

Her words slowly pierced the mist that had clouded

Shalin's brain. He looked up to see the woman's steady


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er wor s s owly pterced the nust thå€ha c ou ed

Shalin's brain. He looked up to see the woman's steady

THE ANDROPOV FILE

37

hands aiming her revolver, her knuckles already white

on the trigger. The two KGB agents were circling him. It

would be only a matter of time before they could over-

power him.

And then they would call for another Dubchov.

It was useless.

' 'l will kill you if I have to, comrade."

"I am well aware of that, Major," Shalin said, letting

the bottle slip from his grasp to the floor.

The two men relaxed.

In that instant, Shalin turned and stepped out onto

the balcony. He didn't stop. He just kept walking, right

over the railing, bending at the waist and then plunging

outward

And down

Eighteen stories.

The old Khodinsk field at the Moscow airport was

rarely used. Now and then, soldiers rehearsing drill and

parades for Red Square celebrations would fill its vast-

ness with the thump of boots and martial music.

But on this night it was quiet except for the warming

engines of a big Ilyushin transport. The plane was used

mainly for foreign trade. Tonight it was flying to Paris

with a load of textile dyes, flax, and fine finished

lumber for furniture manufacture.

Rarely did these transport planes carry passengers.

But this one had two: one dead, one alive.

The hearse proceeded through the heavily guarded

gate without being stopped, as did the Zil limousine

directly behind it. The two vehicles glided to a stop

beside the huge gaping wound of the Ilyushin's loading

bay.

Instantly, men scurried about transferring the casket.

Gregor Leventov, carrying only a small overnight bag

and the travel papers for his "cargo." stepped from the


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DOUC transrernngxne

ns

Gregor Leventov, carrying only a small overnight bag

and the travel papers for his ' 'cargo." stepped from the

limousine and the kvd master. a GRV

colonel.

cvmrade.

t stunted a gre•eqn.s r•resnted the

papers. The perused them quskts and

ur as the tau end of the Nffun unt• the hold

ef the Ilyushin.

e •Chemteals.

• •Isn•t that •hat tt says. comrade? "

throush sntted teeth.

The colonel at the papers. this time at

the bottom. The signature •f •as General

Ivor Shalin.

• •Of course. comrade. the fet•ard lad-

der. please"

hurti,edly Nar-ded the plane and settled into

the small. six-seat rassett$er sectt•n dtrectiy &hund the

eexkrit.

Has had Seen Ft fe€t. He had barely Fu€kled

his safety •hen he heard and felt the shudder of the

yant loading doors close. later the

plane nosed around and Sesan to taxi.

Not unat they •ere in the ait Le•entov relax and

take out a small flask of vodka.

In a fe•v hours. hrs part It ••uld be O\er. In Paris

he •outd hand the •set to ousenk•. Thens like

Shahn. he •.uld simply disappear a •eel.

that tune. the Comrade Chairman

•ould have departed for his last te•ard and the three of

them—he. Shahn. and resurface and

inform the Politburo of the tho held.

He smiled.

The future for Gregor l•Nked rosy.

Very rosv indeed.


FOUR

Carter sat back in the taxi, abvjrbing the jolts at the

driver swerved and bumped over the uneven,

back road that them from the country into the City

Of Helsinki.

It had been a rough eighteen or so hours, made up Of

a lot of burned phone calls and hell of a lot of

travding.

Lug) Cordli of Italian CID had long owed Carter a

big one. He was more than wil!ing to pay off, especially

after Caner told him the circumstances. Bukground

credentials and new identity would be no prob-

Lem. The only hitch was. if Carter wanted then authen-

tic, it would take at least a week.

That tm long, but it couldn't helped.

The Killmaster bypaued this problern by making a

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NICK CARTER

phone call to another old friend, Gustav Bijornan, in

Helsinki.

Yes, a couple of Finnish passports could be made


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tic, it would take at least a wee

That tm long, but it couldn't helped.

The Killmaster bypaued this problern by making a

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NICK CARTER

phone call to another old friend, Gustav Bijornan, in

Helsinki.

Yes, a couple of Finnish passports could be made

up in such a short time, particularly for the fee Carter

was suggesting. Of course, fine work would take much

longer, but if Carter could accept crude forgeries, Bijor-

nan could accommodate him.

Crude forgeries would do to get them from Helsinki

to Rome. Once there, the forgeries would be destroyed

and the couple could get their authentic Italian papers.

From Milan to Helsinki, Carter had chosen the most

roundabout route possible. They had used cars, trains,

airplanes, and, once, for a short hop, an excursion boat.

Nina had told him such precautions weren't neces-

sary. She was positive that her cover, particularly with

the plastic surgery, hadn't been breached.

Carter was taking no chances. There had been too

many times in the past when he had underestimated the

oblique deviousness of the KGB and their military

counterpart, the GRU. Each time he had, the mission

had been a failure.

This particular mission, helping Nina, wasn't official.

Actually, Carter had taken two weeks of his vacation to

respond to her call. But, to him, that didn't make it less

important.

They had arrived in Helsinki six hours before. Carter

had parked Nina in a hotel in the center of the city, and

met Bijornan. The forged documents would be ready

that evening. Did Carter have the photos?

The Killmaster passed them over and returned to the

hotel. They left without checking out, and, changing

cabs twice, drove far out of the city to a set of rustic

cabins on a large lake. There they registered as a honey-

moon couple with a mutual love of ice fishing.

The reason for this was twofold. The first, of course,

was to avoid detection if there had been an attempt


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ANDROPOV FILE

41

made to follow them. The second, the meet with Joseph

Kadinskov once he was safely in Finland.

Kadinskov had already arranged with his sister that,

if he were betrayed, he would leave the train before it

reached the Helsinki station and make his way cross

country to the village of Raija. From there he would

trek southward to Lake Borga. If this was necessary, the

meet would be twenty-four hours later than the original

time at the central station in Helsinki.

The taxi nose-dived to a stop in the block between the

central train station and the parliament building. Carter

paid the driver and worked his way down the street,

pausing now and then to gaze into shop windows.

He had taken every conceivable precaution, but

something nagged him. He felt that he was being tailed,

even though he could detect no one.

Finally he called it paranoia, and headed directly to

the station. Just inside the vast main room, he paused.

She was there, reading, bundled up in her fur coat,

sitting on a bench near the stairway up from the main

tracks: Nina.

Again, to split up a tail or confuse one, Carter had

told her to take a second cab into the city. This also

made it easier for him to stay in the background and

cover them both if Kadinskov arrived as scheduled.

Nina glanced up, caught Carter's eye for a second,

and went back to her magazine.

He continued on through the huge rotunda and exited

through a side door. Two blocks down Kaisanlemen

Katu, he turned into an office building and took the

elevator to the fifth floor. There he stepped out and

walked up two more flights.

Gustav Bijornan's office was not much more than a

cubbyhole at the end of a dim but spotlessly clean cor-

ridor. The sign on the door identified him as a dealer in

fine gems.

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NICK CARTER

It made Carter grin. Fine gems. yes, but more often

than not. other people's.


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NICK CARTER

It made Carter grin. Fine gems. yes, but more often

than not. other people's.

He rang the buzzer sharply, waited a moment. and

then tapped lightly. twice, on the paneling, Finally he

heard the door's interior peephole cover slide away.

The voice from the other side was muffled and raspy.

OThat you. Nick?"

"Yes. Gustav—sorry I'm late."

"One moment. "

Carter heard chains rattling and locks turning. The

door opened wide and a bald head fringed with gray

fuzz appeared in the crack. Two eyes. made enormous

by half-inch-thick lenses, read Carter and the door was

opened.

Carter stepped inside and Bijornan went through the

locking ritual. At last he turned to face the Killmaster.

"The burdens of security." he said with a shrug.

Carter laughed. "How can that be. Gustav? You're

the only criminal in Finland. "

the other man chuckled. "but we do get a

"True."

youthful tourist now and then from Germany or Amer-

ica foolish enough to try and get his return passage by

petty theft. Sit down."

The two men moved to chairs by a cluttered desk. Bi-

jornan took two Finnish passports from a drawer and

passed them over.

"Good. They look real. "

"The shells are real." Bijornan said. "The signatures

and the stamp. of course. are false. But they will do

nicely to get your people out of the country."

Carter pocketed the passports and passed a thick

envelope across the desk. A fat hand slid the envelope

into a drawer.

"You're not going to count it?"

"My friend. you and I are honest men," Bijornan

said with a smile and a shrug. "But let me caution you.

TYE HLE

Of all the frontierc in the worldi tho•e viiJ be spotted by


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TYE

43

Of all the frontierc in the those viiJ be spotted by

the Sovieti or any of thor utellites."

Carter chuckled. • 'Not to worry, Gustav. They are

comjng out, not going in."

"I thought at much, but ctill

The old man stood. Carter his hand and left.

On the street he checked hig watch. jt was ten minute

until the arrjvaJ Of the train.

He wt off for the central station.

On the Moscow-to-Vyborg kg. Joseph Kadinskov

•hared a compartment with a woman, her small

and a buuneuman who W)ke Rusnan with a

terrible accent. Kadjmkoy quckJy decided that nor* of

them powd a threat.

Changjng cars tn Vyborg, he most of the time in

the men" toilet, emerging and boarding only minutes

before hn tram number was called.

The new coach wai practically empty, and Kadinskov

had the compartment to hitmelf.

An hour later they reached the frontier. Outside, it

had snowing, but gazing acro" the vast open

white-neu he could beng the bitter cold that would awart

him If he had to leoe the train and stnke off across the

countryqde on foot.

He hoped that wouldn't be necessary, but deep down

in his heart of hearts he wre they were not gojng to

let him go.

Customs and border patrol guards worked their way

down the car, rudely interrogating each Fv»n as they

examined their papers. At last they ruched Kadm.skov.

"Your pacrrs, comrade.'"

The customs offictaJ—wh0 was also a low-ranking of-

ficer in the KOR was a small, swarthy man *'th dart-

ing. birdlike eyes and a beaked nog. He wat dwarfel by

the two uniformed guards behind him.

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If his eyes could ignite. Kadinskov thought, the

passport and travel papers in his hands would be in

flames.

"Why do you leave the motherland, comrade?"

"Business, in Helsinki."

"And how long do you plan on staying?"

" Just two days."

' 'Your papers are not in order."

"What?" Kadinskov couldn't keep the color in his

face as he jumped to his feet. "What do you mean?"

"Your interior travel permit is only one-way, Mos-

cow to the frontier."

Kadinskov inspected the paper and felt his knees go

weak. "It must be just an oversight, in Moscow."

"Perhaps ..

The ugly little man seemed to be staring right into his

brain. This was a wrinkle Kadinskov hadn't dreamed

would occur. It probably had been an oversight on

Leventov's part. He was going just one way.

Damn the bureaucratic mind, he thought. Would he

be taken from the train because of this foolishness?

"You will have to apply at the frontier on your return

for a travel permit to Moscow, comrade."

"Yes, yes, of course, I'll do that."

The little man handed over his papers and moved on

down the coach. Kadinskov sagged back in the seat with

an audible sigh.

But relief didn't completely envelop him until the

train started moving again.

And then they were over, across the frontier, into

Finland. Even the snow outside the window, glistening

in the winter sun, seemed cleaner.

It was 161 kilometers from the frontier to Helsinki

central station, with three stops in between. Because of

heavy snow and delays for traffic having the right Of

way in the other direction, it was almost two hours

THE ANDROPOV FILE

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before the train stopped again.

45

Kadinskov rubbed the condensation from the glass

and stared out at the platform. Two passengers got off.

He counted five waiting to board, and mentally cat-

alogued them.

Two pretty teen-age girls. An ancient woman in a coat

much too thin for the weather carrying two cloth-

wrapped bundles. A well-dressed older man nervously

smoking a cigar. A stooped old man in a black greatcoat

with a red-tipped white cane and dark glasses.

The cigar smoker, Kadinskov thought, perhaps.

He arranged himself on the seat, slid his hand

through the slit in the coat pocket, then under his belt.

He eased the Tokarev from its sling and slitted his eyes,

feigning sleep.

The train lurched forward. He waited. and waited.

Minutes passed and no one came.

Surely they would have all dispersed through the train

by now, he thought.

He was about to end the charade and sit up, when the

compartment door opened and the blind man tapped his

way to the seat across from Kadinskov.

He knew. He didn't know how he knew, but he just

did.

Of course. It made good sense. Why do it inside the

Soviet Union where questions could be raised, because

his body would surely be identified eventually? But

here, in Finland, if the body were stripped of all iden-

tification and the cause of death appeared to be a heart

attack

An investigation would go only so far and then be

dropped.

The cane. Kadinskov studied it, the narrowing of the

shaft to the tip.

In his line of work he had seen and worked on many

victims. Always he was instructed to leave from his

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report any mention of the tiny puncture wound in the

shoulder, thigh, or buttocks.

He strained to stay relaxed and maintain the posture

of sleep as he went over in his mind the five most toxic

elements in the world.

There were diptheria and tetanus germs, as well as

botulinus, twice as strong as cobra venom. Merely one

gram could kill 36,0 people. There was rien, a deadly

derivative of the castor oil plant.

But all four of those took time, as long as ten days.

But, with the right dosage, gramicidin was instant. In

small amounts it could be used for punishment or tor-

ture. In larger amounts it turned a man into a vegetable

in seconds, mobile but incoherent. Death usually oc-

curred within an hour. more than enough time to send

him tumbling from the train onto the frozen tundra.

Through slitted eyes, Kadinskov looked at the dark

glasses. He sensed that the eyes behind those glasses

were not sightless. They were watching him, weighing

him.

He saw the cane lift, and tightened his grip on the

Tokarev. The center of the cane rested on the man's

knee, the hand holding it curled, preparing to thrust.

When it did, Kadinskov kicked it aside with his foot

and fired. Nervous reaction made him fire three times

when once would have been sufficient.

All three slugs entered the left side of the man's chest,

killing him instantly.

Smoke and a small spurt Of flame erupted from the

hole in Kadinskov's coat. Quickly he pulled his left

hand up into his sleeve and beat it out.

Then he examined the man he had just killed. Death

had been immediate, with little or no blood.

He removed the dark glasses and shoved them into his

own pocket. As he suspected, the passport and other

papers were Finnish. Kadinskov couldn't tell, but he

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