by Isaac Asimov
“Please, comrade,” said Ishihara. “We have been turned away from many places tonight. We only need a small space in which to sleep.”
Yawning, the woman glanced at both of them. Then she nodded. She stepped back and opened the door.
Wayne followed Ishihara inside, relieved to feel the warmth. The woman switched on a small lamp. In the light it threw, Wayne could see that sleeping people filled the floor. A few lying within the range of the lamp stirred slightly; otherwise, the light did not disturb anyone.
The woman gestured vaguely toward the room at large; apparently she was telling them to find their own places. Then she stood next to the lamp, waiting for them to do so before turning it off again. Ishihara found a small spot for them along one wall. They sat down there, and Wayne rolled up in his cloak. A moment later, the woman turned out the light.
Hunter’s glimpse of Wayne and Ishihara had been brief and limited by the shadows, but it had been enough to identify them. The agents who had just taken him into custody had been furious. While one held Hunter’s arm, the other had shouted in rage, stomping his feet and firing a warning shot into the air after the departing vehicle. During that same few seconds, Steve had radioed Hunter from just inside the building.
As the two agents had argued with each other, Hunter had overheard their names. Agent Raskov, the angrier one, had wanted to go back inside and use the warehouse telephone to report the theft of the car. However, Agent Konev had absolutely forbade it on the grounds that they would look bad, even incompetent, to the people inside. Hunter observed that Agent Konev was the senior partner, with the authority to make the final decision.
Since that argument, the two agents had been marching Hunter up the street between them. Each one held one of his arms and walked in silence. Hunter was not certain if they had a clear plan themselves. He did understand Agent Konev’s position, however. When a government functioned by terrorizing its own citizens, its agents could only lose power by revealing their personal fallibility.
At any time, of course, Hunter could pull away from them by brute force. He did not want to do that except in an emergency. If possible, he wanted to satisfy the NKVD agents that he was no threat and depart from them on good terms. Otherwise, the team would remain fugitives from the NKVD for the rest of their time here. That could only damage their chances of finding MC 4.
“All right, hold it.” Agent Raskov brought them to a stop. “Are we going to walk all night? Even if we don’t report to the head office that the car was stolen, surely we can call someone for help.”
“Who?” Agent Konev demanded gruffly. “How many of our fellow agents want to see us reassigned, so they could move up into our places? All they need is something to use against us. We don’t dare turn to any of them.”
“Not every colleague wants our jobs. What about the two guys you worked with last year?”
“Hah! They would love to see us both in Siberian labor camps, comrade.”
“Well, even if we walk all the way to the office, someone will notice our car is not there — in the morning, after daylight.” Agent Raskov sighed. “I’m very tired.”
“You may interrogate me here,” said Hunter. “If it would be more convenient.”
“Shut up,” said Agent Konev.
Hunter saw that he was not particularly angry. Since Hunter had been docile to this point, and both agents had handguns, he had not challenged their control of the situation. He decided to risk speaking again.
“Why did you take me?”
“I just told you —” Agent Konev started.
“Don’t waste your breath on him,” Agent Raskov interrupted. “What are we going to do?”
“Have you been influenced by Wayne Nystrom and Mr. Ishihara?” Hunter spoke in a calm, unemotional tone. He had no idea, of course, if they had given their right names.
Both men turned to him in surprise.
“What have they told you?” Hunter asked.
“Shut up,” Agent Konev repeated. He was still studying Hunter’s face, however, with new interest.
“You know them personally?” Agent Raskov asked.
“Yes, I do,” said Hunter. “I suspect they are using you for their own ends.”
“What does that mean?” Agent Konev demanded.
“I think it’s obvious,” said Agent Raskov. “We’ve been duped, comrade. They sent us on a diversionary chase and stole our vehicle. Maybe Hunter, here, is not at all that they claimed he was.”
“Well, maybe he is. We certainly can’t afford to make another blunder tonight.”
“Granted,” said Agent Raskov. “Let’s go into an apartment building and start knocking on doors. Sooner or later, we’ll find someone who has a telephone. We don’t have to give any explanations about our car.”
“All right,” Agent Konev said wearily. “We must get to work on this. I agree.”
Hunter patiently allowed them to take him wherever they wished. They marched him to the front of a darkened apartment building, where Agent Raskov remained out on the sidewalk with him. Agent Konev pounded on the locked front door, waited, and then hammered on it again. The sound was loud on the quiet street. Finally someone opened it. Agent Konev identified himself and was allowed inside.
Hunter waited only six minutes with Agent Raskov before Agent Konev came back out of the building.
“Did you find a phone?” Agent Raskov asked.
“Yes.” Agent Konev nodded grimly. “I did not explain, not yet.”
“We will have to explain soon. Who else was on duty? Who is coming to get us, comrade?”
“The night clerk is driving out.”
“Oh, young Mikhail? At least he will keep his mouth shut.” Agent Raskov let out a long sigh.
“Yes, he will.”
They waited out on the street for only about ten minutes before a car drew up to the curb. Hunter allowed himself to be directed into the backseat between the two agents. No one spoke as they rode away.
The car parked behind a large building. Hunter recognized it as the same one from which he had rescued Judy. He was taken into an unmarked back door. Inside, he found himself at the opposite end of the same hallway where he had bluffed his way in to get Judy.
For a few minutes, the agents locked him up alone in an interrogation room. It was similar to the one in which Judy had been held, with a table, a single lamp, and several chairs. The walls had no windows. A steam radiator against one wall provided some heat. He sat down in a chair.
When the door opened, his two hosts came in, now without their overcoats, and shut it. They sat down across the table from him, studying him grimly. He waited for them to speak.
“Who are you, Hunter? Where did you come from?” Agent Konev looked him in the eye.
“I was a farm worker west of Moscow until the Germans came. Then I fled into the city with everyone else.” By now, using their own speech as a model, Hunter had polished and perfected his Russian accent and colloquialisms. They would not pick out flaws in his speech.
“What was the name of your farm?”
Hunter did not know of one. He shrugged. “We just called it ‘the farm.’”
Agent Konev frowned deeply. “You don’t know the name of the place were you worked?”
“We never paid much attention.”
“I say you are a German spy.”
Hunter remained silent. That was probably what Wayne Nystrom had told them. Based on what Judy had told him about the NKVD, he now expected much worse treatment — maybe physical torture and an attempt to imprison him in a labor camp.
“What is your mission here?” Agent Raskov spoke this time. “Who is your contact?”
Hunter considered his options. Of course, he could withstand substantially greater torture than a human, but he could not afford to have his captors find that out. In any case, the Third Law required that he not allow harm to come to himself.
“Speak, Hunter!” Agent Konev shouted. “Your silence proves your guilt! N
ow answer us!”
Since Hunter had given Steve the belt unit to trigger the sphere back in Room F-12, Hunter could only escape by means of his own personal resources. That would endanger the welfare of his whole team. He still did not want to take that step.
Suddenly Agent Konev shot up out of his chair and punched Hunter across the table, striking him in the face. Hunter’s reflexes gave him plenty of time to see it coming, and he rocked back slightly with the blow. He carefully sustained much of the punch and allowed himself to fall from his chair to the floor, to give the man some satisfaction.
As Hunter slowly got to his feet, both agents moved around the end of the table. Agent Raskov grabbed Hunter under his arms and hoisted him up. At the same time, Agent Konev slammed his fist into Hunter’s abdomen. As before, Hunter reacted the way he judged a human would, doubling forward and then falling to his knees, pulling free of Agent Raskov’s grasp.
“Let him think about it,” said Agent Raskov.
“He needs more convincing, comrade — and this is only the beginning!” Agent Konev struck Hunter in the head with his knee, almost casually.
Hunter obligingly fell over on the floor. He could see only their lower legs and feet now.
“It’s been a long night,” said Agent Raskov. “At least, let’s discuss it outside. Come.”
“All right.” Agent Konev kicked Hunter with one foot as a parting shot and switched off the light.
Hunter remained motionless until they had left. The door closed behind them firmly and the lock snapped into place. Then Hunter stood up.
The room was completely dark except for the strip of indirect light entering under the door from the hall. The only possible exit for Hunter was the door. Unless he chose to use it, he could do nothing but wait.
16
THE NEXT MORNING, Steve sat with Judy and Jane in their corner of the warehouse with their bowls of hot gruel.
“What are we going to do?” Jane asked. “Are we joining the work brigade today, or what?”
“It’s the best way to blend in,” said Steve. “If we leave, we might not be welcome back. Judy, what do you think?”
“What’s the point of joining the work brigade? Just to wait till Hunter comes back?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Steve paused to eat. “If we start running around Moscow on our own, it’ll be even harder for him to find us.”
“You could … you know.” Jane tapped her lapel pin. “If we call him after we leave here, it won’t endanger these people again.”
.” But we’ll be stuck with nowhere to go tonight,” said Steve. “I think our best bet now is to stay with the work brigade and wait for Hunter to come back.”
“I’m afraid we’ll wait forever,” said Judy. “What if something permanent happens to him? We’ll just be sitting around.”
“Let’s give him another day, at least,” said Steve. “That’s not very long.”
“I agree,” said Jane. “If he has to sneak away instead of break out, a day isn’t too long to wait.”
“So I’m outvoted,” said Judy, with a sigh. “All right. I guess it won’t hurt a historian to go out with a work brigade and dig ditches for a day. Maybe I’ll learn something useful out there.”
Ishihara lay motionless on the hard, cold floor, conserving his energy. Wayne slept soundly, using his cloak for padding. In the morning, the sounds of other people rising and talking awakened Wayne. Stretching, he looked around and then sat up.
“Are you well?” Ishihara asked quietly. He sat up, also.
“Uh, yeah. It was kind of a short night, though. How long was I asleep?”
“Six hours and four minutes. Well short of the eight hours recommended for ideal human rest.”
“It’ll do.”
“I see some people in the front are preparing large vats of hot cereal. We shall be fed.”
“Good. I’m hungry.” Wayne looked around. “What kind of a place is this?”
Ishihara glanced about the room. “If you look carefully, you can see disconnected cables and holes in the floor where machinery was once bolted down.”
“Yeah, I see. What does that mean?”
“I believe this was previously a factory. Now all the industrial machinery has been hauled away.”
“Why? Something to do with the war?”
“Yes. I think they carried it away from the advancing Germans.”
“In case Moscow is captured?”
“Yes, and also to avoid having it bombed.”
Ishihara looked around at the crowd, which consisted mostly of women and children. A small number of elderly men were scattered through it. Some people were getting in line for the rest rooms and for breakfast.
“What do they all do in the daytime?” Wayne asked. “Do they have jobs to go to?”
“I have been listening to people talk. This is a work brigade. After breakfast, trucks will take everyone outside Moscow to dig ditches.”
“We don’t want to waste any time doing that.”
“No. However, before we leave, I suggest you eat. We may have trouble finding other food today.”
“Yeah.”
Ishihara waited where he was as Wayne got in line for the rest room. By the time he had joined the line for breakfast, most people already had their food. He brought his back to Ishihara and started eating.
“I have continued to monitor the NKVD radio traffic,” said Ishihara.
“I guess the car must have been reported stolen by now,” said Wayne.
“No, not yet,” said Ishihara. “Not yet?”
“We still have some time in which we can use the car,” said Ishihara. “At least as long as it still has fuel. We should use it while we can.”
“We’ll use it in more than one way,” said Wayne. “It will lend us an air of authority, won’t it? Maybe we can get some information from the guys up at the front table.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” said Ishihara. “More play-acting?”
“Right,” said Wayne. “But you’ll have to do the talking, of course. And you’ll have to explain why a couple of important people came begging for places to sleep in the middle of the night.”
When Wayne had finished eating, he rolled up his cloak and walked with Ishihara up to the front. Ishihara observed the women ladling out hot cereal and the two men standing by the door and decided to approach the men. He stood up straight and assumed a confident demeanor.
“Who is in charge here?” Ishihara asked.
The two men glanced at him in surprise.
“I am the commissar of this facility,” said one. He was a blond man of medium height, about thirty years old. “I have not seen you before, comrades. When did you arrive?”
“We came in late last night,” said Ishihara. “We are in pursuit of an enemy agent.”
The commissar’s eyes widened. “You are? Here?”
“No, no. I have not seen him here.” Ishihara described MC 4. “Have you seen anyone of this description?”
“No,” said the commissar thoughtfully. “Of course, many people are coming and going these days.” He glanced at his partner, who also shook his head. Then the commissar looked back and forth between Wayne and Ishihara. “You are … NKVD?”
“We are working in cooperation with them,” Ishihara said carefully.
“In cooperation with them? What does this mean? May we see your badges?”
Ishihara had worried about this moment. No one had demanded the real agents’ badges, but they had expressed their authority with guns and bluster. Ishihara drew himself up stiffly, hoping to bluff the commissar. “You question our authority?”
“Well … meaning no disrespect.” The commissar hesitated. “I am Boris Popov, comrade. Who are you?”
“We must be on our way, comrade.” Ishihara turned abruptly and walked past him, out the door. His hearing detected Wayne’s footsteps right behind him. However, he also heard the commissar and his partner following Wayne out the door.
/> Ishihara did not look back, feeling that his bluff would work better if he showed no concern over the commissar’s attention. He led Wayne at a brisk stride down the sidewalk in the morning light and turned at the alley. The commissar’s footsteps stopped uncertainly just outside the door.
In the alley, out of sight, Ishihara got into the driver’s side. He closed the door and quickly leaned down to pull some of the wires under the dashboard out where he could see them.
“Aren’t we going to start the car the same way?” Wayne asked. “I can steer while you push, but I can’t push as hard as you can if you’re the one who’s steering.”
“We cannot convince anyone this car is ours if they see us start the engine that way,” said Ishihara. “Get in on the passenger side.”
“Okay — but what are you doing?”
“The key to the ignition must allow some sort of electrical connection to be made that starts the engine. If I select the correct wires, then I can make the same connection. I think I have them. Please get in.”
“Yeah, okay, okay.” Wayne hurried around to the other side and slid inside, slamming the door.
Ishihara had carefully stripped the insulation from a couple of wires. He touched the bare metal together and heard the starter whine. When he gave the engine gas, it started up. He shut his own door and backed out of the alley.
“Wow, not bad,” said Wayne. “I understand how a robot works, but figuring out these primitive machines at a glance, without a design to go by — forget it.”
“Thank you,” said Ishihara, stopping in the street and shifting into first gear. “Now we must drive past the commissar so that he can see us driving away.”
Ishihara kept his head straight as he drove past the front door of the converted factory, still pretending to have no concern over the commissar and his partner. His peripheral vision, however, told him that both men were still standing there watching them. They did not react outwardly.
“What do you think?” Wayne asked. “Did we bluff them or are they suspicious?”
