Firefox Down

'Dmitri-where…?'

'No time, Anna,' he said breathlessly, placing his gloved forefinger on her mouth. 'Listen to me. Come back with me now. Please come back with me now — !' It was an order, but more than that, a plea. As if he saw into a black future, and wished to pull her back from it as from the edge of a cliff.

'What is it?'

'What do you mean? I want you to come with me. Quickly, before Gant returns. Let him cross the border by himself. We can be in Leningrad before morning, in Moscow by noon. Look, Anna, we can explain everything. I–I can explain in some way or other why I had to leave Moscow, why I travelled to Leningrad. No one need know that you ever left the city. Come quickly now, before he returns…' He was eager to be gone, like a thief leaving a house he had ransacked. She did not understand his urgency. She did not understand why he was there, how he had followed them. There was something in his tone that lay beneath love, and she could not help her mistrust of it.

'Why? Dmitri, what's the matter — tell me…? '

Her hands gripped his arms. They appeared to be jockeying for a position whereby one could use a wrestling throw upon the other. She shook her head slightly.

'There's nothing the matter. Now, come with me, Anna — quickly, before he returns — '

She knew, then. The anxiety was clear in his voice. Knew part of it, at least. 'Where's Harris, Dmitri? Where is the driver? What will the American find?' She shook his arms.

'It doesn't matter,' he said softly.

'Tell me!'

'You killed him?'

'There was a struggle,' he answered lamely.

'No there wasn't — !' she almost screamed, outraged more by his lie than by the death of Harris. 'You killed him. Don't lie to me!'

'Come on — '

'No! Not until you tell me what will happen.'

'Anna — '

'No. What will happen?'

'Gant will be arrested at the border — perhaps even shot. Yes, best if he were shot.'

'You mean you've told them to expect him — expect us?' she asked, appalled, her hand covering her mouth, then both hands clamped upon her ears.

'No. Not yet. I came for you first.'

'Dmitri — for God's sake, what are you doing — ?'

'Saving you — saving us. Harris knew about you, Gant knows about you. He won't give himself up at the border when they try to arrest him — they'll have to kill him. You'll be safe, then.'

'No-'

'What matters most — him or us? Anna, if Gant dies no one will know you helped him. He won't be able to tell them — '

'And the CIA?' she asked bitterly. 'They will know.'

'No they won't! You can tell them he made you turn back, that he went on by himself while you returned to Leningrad… he and Harris were killed. It's easy — '

'Easy? Killing two people is easy?'

'Anna — forget all this. Just get out of the car, come with me and let him go by himself. I'll — I won't call the border post, I'll let him go. I promise he'll be safe-'

'I don't believe you — you want him to die.' She studied his face; even though he mqyed his head back and away from her, she could distinguish the gleam in his eyes. He did want Gant killed. Like a jealous lover, he wanted his rival dead.

The windows of the car were fogged. The snow was slush-like, beginning to slip down to the sills, because of the warmth inside the car; their anger. She did not know what to do. Dmitri could not protect her from the CIA. She could not let Dmitri kill Gant. Because he was Dmitri, because she could not live with him if she acquiesced… she would learn to live with Harris's death, change it from murder into something else. But not Gant. She would have known beforehand, and would never escape it. 'I can't let you…' she murmured eventually.

'What? You want to protect him?' Dmitri raged. 'You want to go on being a spy, an agent? For the Americans?'

'Not for the Americans, not for him — for us. I can't agree to his murder, I can't let you murder him! Don't you see? I can't live with that — !'

'I can,' he announced with cold solemnity. 'I want to.'

'Dmitri-'

He shook his head. 'You're coming with me, Anna,' he said, grabbing her arm. This time the pressure of his grip made her cry out. He pulled at her arm, opening the door with his other hand. 'You're coming with me! You'll forget about this, you'll forget about everything…'

'NO!'

He grunted and twisted her arm, making her scream. 'Come on, Anna,' he snarled, threatening her. 'Come on.'

He twisted her arm further, almost seeming to Anna to be on the point of breaking it. Fire spread through her wrist to her elbow to her shoulder. She cried out again, looking wildly at him, unable to understand his rage, his desire to hurt her, 'No-!'

'Come on — !' He pulled her upper body clear of the car. She lay almost horizontally on the seat. He bent and slapped her face. 'Come on, come on-!' He wrenched her arm. She screamed.

Then she felt the pressure, the agony, lessen. The skirt of his overcoat brushed her head, she saw feet slipping and struggling in the trampled snow by the wheel of the car, then something banged heavily against the front passenger door. She heard Gant's voice.

'What the hell is the matter with you?' Gant was breathing heavily, almost grunting out the words. She could hear Dmitri's rough breathing, too. She rolled back into a sitting position. Dmitri's back had wiped away the snow from the passenger window. The freezing air made her shiver violently. She held her injured arm gently, cradling it like a child in her other arm. 'That's better,' she heard Gant say. 'Just take it easy.' Then: 'You all right, Anna?'

'Yes, yes,' she managed to say thickly. Then she groaned as she moved.

'OK?'

'Yes.' She got heavily out of the car, still cradling her arm. Dmitri looked at her, horrified. Gant's arm had been across his throat, his pistol at Dmitri's forehead. Now, the American stepped back, motioning her away from Dmitri. She obeyed.

'What the hell was happening when I came up?' Gant asked. Then he added: 'You know he killed Harris?' She nodded. Addressing Dmitri, he said, 'You stupid bastard. What the hell's the matter with you? You could get us all caught!'

'You I want caught!' Dmitri snapped back.

'OK, kid, I'm the biggest villain you ever met! That I can understand — but her! You're putting her in danger. You think you can just take her back, without guarantees from the Company. You're dumb — too dumb.' Something else, something more dangerous, occurred to Gant at that moment, and he said, 'Are they expecting us? Are they?' The pistol jabbed forward, at Dmitri Priabin's stomach.

Anna gasped, then cried out, 'No! He hasn't told them yet — I swear he hasn't!'

'I believe you. You,' he added, addressing Priabin, 'what was the plan, uh? Kill Harris so we get into trouble at the border… or just me? Anna was going to walk? You'd have left me stranded, and you'd have made sure I got killed.' Gant's features twisted in anger and contempt. 'Get in the car,' he snapped. 'Back seat, with the window rolled right down — get in!' Priabin climbed reluctantly into the car and wound down the window. He glared out after the door was closed on him. He avoided looking at Anna. He rubbed his hands together between his knees, as if warming or washing them. Gant pocketed Priabin's heavy Stechkin automatic, keeping his own pistol levelled. 'Anna — come here,' he said. 'Not too close.'