Revolution
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the committee on that. It's our opinion that we'regoing to have to cover that matter in our broadcasts to the people andthe only answer is that until the West has agreed to nucleardisarmament, we're going to have to keep our own."
Leonid said, and there was shock in his voice, "But that's one of themost basic reasons for the new revolution, to eliminate this mad armsrace, this devoting half the resources of the world to armament."
"Yes, but what can we do? How do we know that the Western powers won'tattack? And please remember that it is no longer just the United Statesthat has nuclear weapons. If we lay down our defenses, we are capable ofbeing destroyed by England, France, West Germany, even Turkey or Japan!And consider, too, that the economies of some of the Western powers arebased on the production of arms to the point that if such productionended, overnight, depressions would sweep their nations. In short, theycan't afford a world without tensions."
"It's a problem for the future to solve," someone else said. "Butmeanwhile I believe the committee is right. Until it is absolutelyproven that we need have no fears about the other nations, we must keepour own strength."
Under his hedge, Paul grimaced, but he was getting what he came for, adiscussion of policy, without the restrictions his presence would haveput on the conversation.
"Let's deal with a more pleasant subject," a feminine voice said. "Ourbroadcasts should stress to the people that for the first time in thehistory of Russia we will be truly in the position to lead the world!For fifty years the Communists attempted to convert nations intoadopting their system, and largely they were turned down. Thosecountries that did become Communist either did so at the point of theRed Army's bayonet or under the stress of complete collapse such as inChina. But tomorrow, and the New Russia? Freed from the inadequacy andinefficiency of the bureaucrats who have misruled us, we'll develop aproductive machine that will be the envy of the world!" Her voice hadall but a fanatical ring.
Someone else chuckled, "If the West thought they had competition from usbefore, wait until they see the New Russia!"
Paul thought he saw someone, a shadow, at the side of the clearing. Hislips thinned and the .38 Noiseless was in his hand magically.
False alarm.
He turned back to the "conversation" inside.
Kirichenko's voice was saying, "It is hard for me not to believe thatwithin a period of a year or so half the countries of the world willfollow our example."
"Half!" someone laughed exuberantly. "The world, Comrades! The newsystem will sweep the world. For the first time in history the worldwill see what Marx and Engels were _really_ driving at!"
* * * * *
Back at the hotel, toward morning, Paul was again stretched out on thebed, hands under his head, his eyes unseeingly staring at the ceiling ashe went through his agonizing reappraisal.
There was Ana.
And there was even Leonid Shvernik and some of the others of theunderground. As close friends as he had ever made in a life thatadmittedly hadn't been prone to friendship.
And there was Russia, the country of his birth. Beyond the undergroundmovement, beyond the Soviet regime, beyond the Romanoff Czars. MotherRussia. The land of his parents, his grandparents, the land of hisroots.
And, of course, there was the United States and the West. The West whichhad received him in his hour of stress in his flight from _Mother_Russia. Mother Russia, ha! What kind of a mother had she been to theKoslovs? To his grandfather, his father, his mother and brother? Wherewould he, Paul, be today had he as a child not been sent fleeing to theWest?
And his life work. What of that? Since the age of nineteen, when anormal teenager would have been in school, preparing himself for life.Since nineteen he had been a member of the anti-Soviet team.
A star, too! Paul Koslov, the trouble-shooter, the always reliable,cold, ruthless. Paul Koslov on whom you could always depend to carry theball.
Anti-Soviet, or anti-Russian?
Why kid himself about his background. It meant nothing. He was anAmerican. He had only the faintest of memories of his family or of thecountry. Only because people told him so did he know he was a Russian.He was as American as it is possible to get.
What had he told such Westerners, born and bred, as Lord Carrol andDerek Stevens? _If he wasn't a member of the team, there just wasn't ateam._
But then, of course, there was Ana.
Yes, Ana. But what, actually, was there in the future for them? Now thathe considered it, could he really picture her sitting in the drug storeon Montez Street, Grass Valley, having a banana split?
Ana was Russian. As patriotic a Russian as it was possible to be. Asmuch a dedicated member of the Russian team as it was possible to be.And as a team member, she, like Paul, knew the chances that wereinvolved. You didn't get to be a star by sitting on the bench. Shehadn't hesitated, in the clutch, to sacrifice her favorite brother.
* * * * *
Paul Koslov propped the Tracy, the wristwatch-like radio before him,placing its back to a book. He made it operative, began to repeat,"Paul calling. Paul calling."
A thin, far away voice said finally, "O.K. Paul. I'm receiving."
Paul Koslov took a deep breath and said, "All right, this is it. In justa few days we're all set to kick off. Understand?"
"I understand, Paul."
"Is it possible that anybody else can be receiving this?"
"Absolutely impossible."
"All right, then this is it. The boys here are going to start theirrevolution going by knocking off not only Number One, but also Two,Three, Four, Six and Seven of the hierarchy. Number Five is one oftheirs."
The thin voice said, "You know I don't want details. They're up to you."
Paul grimaced. "This is why I called. You've got to make--or someone'sgot to make--one hell of an important decision in the next couple ofdays. It's not up to me. For once I'm not to be brushed off with that'don't bother me with details,' routine."
"Decision? What decision? You said everything was all ready to go,didn't you?"
"Look," Paul Koslov said, "remember when you gave me this assignment.When you told me about the Germans sending Lenin up to Petrograd inhopes he'd start a revolution and the British sending Somerset Maughamto try and prevent it?"
"Yes, yes, man. What's that got to do with it?" Even over the longdistance, the Chief's voice sounded puzzled.
"Supposedly the Germans were successful, and Maugham failed. But lookingback at it a generation later, did the Germans win out by helping bringoff the Bolshevik revolution? The Soviets destroyed them for all time asa first-rate power at Stalingrad, twenty-five years afterwards."
The voice from Washington was impatient. "What's your point, Paul?"
"My point is this. When you gave me this assignment, you told me I wasin the position of the German who engineered bringing Lenin up toPetrograd to start the Bolsheviks rolling. Are you _sure_ that theopposite isn't true? Are you sure it isn't Maugham's job I should have?Let me tell you, Chief, these boys I'm working with now are sharp,they've got more on the ball than these Commie bureaucrats running thecountry have a dozen times over.
"Chief, this is the decision that has to be made in the next couple ofdays. Just who do we want eliminated? Are you sure you don't want me totip off the KGB to this whole conspiracy?"
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ May 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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