Part 37 (2/2)

Daniella had never been to Zvenigorod but it was no surprise to her that it lay nestled on the banks of Maluta's beloved Moskva. Great fir forests rose upward through steep ravines on either side of the rolling hills upon which the town was set.

But she had heard of the Sobor na Gorodke, the Cathedral of the a.s.sumption, built of gray stone almost five hundred years ago. What seemed odd to her as the heated Chaika took her past its gates was its slit windows, its single austere central dome, so much more like a medieval keep. Its appearance was less like an edifice of G.o.d than of war. Sometimes, she thought, they were one and the same, at least in the hands of imperfect and often venal mortals.

Daniella had thought that she would be safe from Maluta over the weekend. After all, he was away at his dacha in Zvenigorod and she was in Moscow. It had been early morning and she had thrown the windows open in her office so that she could hear the first birds of spring as they flitted from branch to branch in the firs outside. Traffic on the Ring Road was minimal and the forest dominated.

She had been poring over the latest intelligence from Mitre, her heart surging with the news that they were now so close to taking the whole thing: InterAsia, the yuhn-hyun. Kam Sang! More than anything, Daniella wished to penetrate to the hidden core of that Communist Chinese project. She did not believe that its real secret had been revealed to her via Zhang Hua, s.h.i.+ Zilin's a.s.sistant in Beijing. Perhaps part of Kam Sang revolved around the new-design nuclear desalinization plant to alleviate Hong Kong's perpetual water shortage problems. But only part.

The Chinese army was heavily involved, their top minds invested in Kam Sang. Why? She suspected now as Mitre ama.s.sed for her more and more data that Zhang Hua had either been incompletely informed about the project orand this possibility chilled herhe had been a double agent, ostensibly her mole inside s.h.i.+ Zilin's office but in reality relaying to her just what s.h.i.+ Zilin wanted her to know.

Well, she'd never know now since both Zhang Hua and s.h.i.+ Zilin were dead. But Jake Maroc s.h.i.+, s.h.i.+ Zilin's son, survived and it disturbed her that Mitre had no idea where he was. Maroc should have been in the center of yuhn-hyun operations in Hong Kong. Yet he was nowhere to be found in the Crown Colony.

Daniella sent a cipher to Mitre instructing him to begin a full-scale trace of Jake Maroc's whereabouts. She was sending it when the phone rang. a.s.suming that it was Carelin calling to confirm their date for lunch she answered immediately.

”I tried you first at home, Comrade General.” Maluta.

”A woman's work is never done,” she had said, and he laughed.

”Which is why I called.” He paused. ”I want an update on your progress.”

”Monday morning first”

”Not Monday,” he interrupted. ”Now.”

”But I have lunch with Carelin.”

”Break it. I need you here. And while you're at it you can give your report on your liaison with him.”

”You make it sound like filth,” she said, abruptly angryat being intruded upon, ordered around like a wind-up doll; at being pulled away from Carelin.

”And perhaps it is,” he said shortly. ”But it's not for me to judge.”

”You're a p.r.i.c.k, do you know that?”

”You bandy Western curses about as if they were your first language. I find that somewhat suspect, Daniella Alexandrova.”

He had that capacity to turn just about any insult around like a boomerang; she began again to burn.

”Why are we suddenly speaking of loyalty?”

”Is that what you think, Comrade General? Loyalty?” His voice was mocking. ”How interesting! I wonder what a sluzhba psychologist would make of that comment. Uhm. Perhaps we should schedule you for a session at the Serbsky Inst.i.tute.”

”What an idiotic notion!” But she knew he had the power to implement even such an absurd suggestion.

”Are you beginning your menses?” he asked. ”Your att.i.tude is so antagonistic.”

Daniella shut up. She knew why she was doing this and it only raised her anxiety level. In Zvenigorod, at the dacha, there could be no escaping him. The black hole of Oleg Maluta would be staring her in the face and she was terrified. Therefore, part of her was attempting to run away.

She heard Carelin telling her, You'll find a way. I know it. A way to bring Oleg Maluta down. Wasn't it Maluta himself who had said, Termination is not the only way to remove obstacles from ones path. Yes. Yes. She thought of her wei qi board, a string of strategies, springboard to a to what?

She so wanted to dispel this debilitating terror that Maluta's power produced in her.

Opened her mouth and said, ”What time do you want me at the dacha?”

”My Chaika will be downstairs to take you home within a half-hour.” Did she detect some disappointment in his voice that she had not risen to his baiting? ”Don't take too long packing, I want you here for lunch.”

Now, several hours later, she was here. Oleg Maluta's dacha was at the foot of one of the farther hills. It was elevated above most of the town so that from almost every spot in it one had some kind of view of the Moskva.

The place had an aspect about it of a hunting lodge. Daniella could not think that this was the same design as the one that had burnt down; no female she knew would be comfortable for long in this wholly masculine environment. Inside, it was seemingly all woodfloors, walls, ceiling; the heaviness was oppressive. The furniture, at least, could do with some floral chintz, she decided.

Maluta, in smoke-gray mohair slacks, hand-st.i.tched loafers and a cashmere pullover, greeted her at the door. The driver went past them with her bags. Maluta looked at the attache case Daniella carried and nodded approvingly. Only then did he move aside for her to enter.

A rather old-fas.h.i.+oned squarish vestibule gave out on one side to a library, on the other to the living room. The bedrooms and his study, he told her, were up the wide, mahogany-banistered staircase to a second floor which dominated the rear half of the villa. The kitchen and dining areas were in the rear on the first floor.

All the rooms seemed vast to her, even cluttered with the thicka”

legged furniture, most of which was layered with the acc.u.mulated mementos of half a lifetime. Too much from one man or even a couple. As Daniella went around the living room she saw pictures, frames, medals, commendations, even grisly souvenirs of the war, that had to have belonged to Maluta's father. Maluta had moved all of this from his Moscow apartment after the first dacha had burned.

He poured them both drinks and, without asking her what she wanted, handed her a gla.s.s of white Rhine wine. It was a bit too sweet to suit her taste but she smiled and, after the first sip, made a complimentary remark.

”What do you have for me?”

It was typical of him, this total lack of courtesy. But Daniella was beginning to see his strategy. It was as if he felt that he must shape entirely his immediate personal environment. He liked disconcerting those in his presence, believing, perhaps rightly, that this gave him a certain tactical advantage.

With an inner start, Daniella perceived just how well it worked in her case. That was why she thought of him as a dark star. Maluta worked at having his own laws in his personal universe; and this he carried around with him wherever he went. She was, consequently, never herself when she was with him. For Daniella especially this was a great hards.h.i.+p. It was why she was never able to face him equally: she was never sure of her footing.

With a deliberate gesture significant only to herself, she snapped open the attache case. It was of hand-tanned wild ostrich hide, one of many extravagant presents Yuri Lantin had bought her from the Beryozka. She produced several pages of pink flimsies, proof that they were Kremlin departmental originals. ~ ”Here is what my a.s.set in Hong Kong has accomplished”

Red-faced, Maluta came across the Oriental carpet toward her. Daniella, though she felt the rage inside him as a physical force, held her ground. ”What s.h.i.+t is this?” He batted the flimsies away so that they fluttered to the carpet. ”Jake Maroc is still alive and Kam Sang is still as much a mystery to me as it first was.”

”My a.s.set is very close to gaining complete control over Kam Sang, Comrade,” Daniella said calmly. ”This is the way.”

A long blue vein pulsed at the side of Maluta's forehead. His great knuckled fingers curled and clutched at air, making hairy fists. ”Is that so?” he gasped in such a strangled voice that Daniella knew he was having difficulty controlling his emotions. ”Perhaps we should justoverfly the Kam Sang project and *accidentally' drop a bomb on it!”

Daniella watched him as if he were some poisonous creature. ”That is foolish talk and you know it,” she said.

Maluta glared at her in silence for a long time. Then he turned on his heel and stalked to the bar. With a clatter, he threw ice into a wide-mouthed cut-crystal gla.s.s, slopped vodka almost to the brim. He downed half of it in one gulp. ”You know what this means,” he said with his back still to her.

When Daniella said nothing, he barked at her, ”Tell me!”

”I'm not sure what you're getting at, Comrade.”

He swung around and his gaze was baleful. ”Stupid b.i.t.c.h!” he shouted. ”You cretinous c.u.n.t, I'll have to spell it out for you then. f.u.c.king idiot! I have nothing but f.u.c.king idiots around me.” He gulped the last of his vodka, threw the gla.s.s onto the bartop, took some gratification at its shattering.

He came close to her and said, ”It means one of two things, Comrade General. Either you are incompetent or you have been lying to me.” He glared at her. ”Now which one is it?”

”You do not know Maroc,” she said, restraining herself from hitting him. ”He is my nemesis. He is not so easily destroyed. One does not snap one's fingers and make him disappear.”

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