Light footsteps sounded and Zek Foener appeared on the office threshold. She merely glanced coldly at Dolgikh, then fixed her gaze on Gerenko. ‘Kyle is a goldmine — the sane part of him, anyway! There is nothing he doesn’t know, and he’s releasing it in a flood. He even knows a
good many — too many — things about us. Things I didn’t know. Fantastic things. . .‘ Suddenly she looked tired.
Gerenko nodded. ‘Fantastic things? I had supposed that they would be. Is that why you think he’s partly insane? That his mind is playing him tricks? Believe me, it isn’t! Do you know what they destroyed in Romania?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but . . . it’s hard to believe. I —’
Gerenko held up a warning hand. She understood, felt caution emanating from him. Theo Dolgikh was not to know. Like most of the other espers at the Château, Foener hated the KGB. She nodded, and kept her silence.
Gerenko spoke again. ‘And is it the same sort of thing that lies hidden in the mountains beyond Chernovtsy?’
Again she nodded.
‘Very well.’ Gerenko smiled without emotion. ‘And now, my dear, you must return to your work. Give it total priority.’
‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘I only came away while they were dosing him again. And because I need a break from . . .‘ She shook her head dazedly. Her eyes were wide, bright with strange new knowledge. ‘Comrade, this thing is utterly —‘
Again Gerenko held up his child’s hand in warning. ‘I know.’
She nodded, turned and left, her footsteps a little uncertain on the descending stone stairs.
‘What was all that about?’ Dolgikh was mystified.
‘That was the joint death certificate of Krakovitch, Gulharov and Quint,’ Gerenko answered. ‘Actually, Quint was the only one who might have been useful — but no longer. Now you can get on your way. Is the branch helicopter ready for you?’
Dolgikh nodded. He began to stand up, then frowned and said, ‘First tell me, what will happen to Kyle when you are finished with him? I mean, I’ll take care of that
other pair of traitors, and the British esper, Quint, but what of Kyle? What will become of him?’
Gerenko raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought that was obvious. When we have what we want, everything we want, then we’ll dump him in the British zone in Berlin. There he’ll simply die, and their best doctors won’t know why.’
‘But why will he die? And what of that drug you’re pumping into him? Surely their doctors will pick up traces?’
Gerenko shook his walnut head. ‘It leaves no trace. It completely voids itself in a few hours. That is why we have to keep dosing him. A clever lot, our Bulgarian friends. He’s not the first one we’ve drained in this fashion, and the results have always been the same. As to why he will die: he will have no incentive for life. Less than a cabbage, he will not retain sufficient knowledge or instinct even to move his body. There will be no control —none! His vital organs will not function. He might survive longer on a life-support machine, but . . .‘ And he shrugged.
‘Brain-death.’ Dolgikh nodded and grinned.
‘But there you have it in a nutshell.’ Gerenko emotionlessly clapped his child’s hands. ‘Bravo! For what is an entirely empty brain if not dead, eh? And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a telephone call to make.’
Dolgikh stood up. ‘I’ll be on my way,’ he said. Already he was looking forward to the task in hand.
‘Theo,’ said Gerenko. ‘Krakovitch and his friends —they should be killed with despatch. Don’t linger over it. And one last thing: do not be too curious about what they are trying to do up there in the mountains. Do not concern yourself with it. Believe me, too much curiosity could be very, very dangerous!’
In answer to which Dolgikh could only nod. Then he turned and left the room . .
* * *
As their car drew away from the checkpoint towards Chernovtsy, Quint might have expected Krakovitch to carry on raging. But he didn’t. Instead the head of the Soviet E-Branch was quiet and thoughtful, and even more so after Gulharov quickly told him about the disconnected cable.