ven that we need have no fears about the other nations, we must keep
our own strength."

Under his hedge, Paul grimaced, but he was getting what he came for, a
discussion of policy, without the restrictions his presence would have
put on the conversation.

"Let's deal with a more pleasant subject," a feminine voice said. "Our
broadcasts should stress to the people that for the first time in the
history of Russia we will be truly in the position to lead the world!
For fifty years the Communists attempted to convert nations into
adopting their system, and largely they were turned down. Those
countries that did become Communist either did so at the point of the
Red Army's bayonet or under the stress of complete collapse such as in
China. But tomorrow, and the New Russia? Freed from the inadequacy and
inefficiency of the bureaucrats who have misruled us, we'll develop a
productive machine that will be the envy of the world!" Her voice had
all but a fanatical ring.

Someone else chuckled, "If the West thought they had competition from us
before, wait until they see the New Russia!"

Paul thought he saw someone, a shadow, at the side of the clearing. His
lips 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 that
within a period of a year or so half the countries of the world will
follow our example."

"Half!" someone laughed exuberantly. "The world, Comrades! The new
system will sweep the world. For the first time in history the world
will see what Marx and Engels were _really_ driving at!"

* * * * *

Back at the hotel, toward morning, Paul was again stretched out on the
bed, hands under his head, his eyes unseeingly staring at the ceiling as
he went through his agonizing reappraisal.

There was Ana.

And there was even Leonid Shvernik and some of the others of the
underground. As close friends as he had ever made in a life that
admittedly hadn't been prone to friendship.

And there was Russia, the country of his birth. Beyond the underground
movement, beyond the Soviet regime, beyond the Romanoff Czars. Mother
Russia. The land of his parents, his grandparents, the land of his
roots.

And, of course, there was the United States and the West. The West which
had received him in his hour of stress in his flight from _Mother_
Russia. Mother Russia,