understand the depression is terrible there."

"So I understand," the other said. "The vote turned out as was to be
expected."

Simonov's eyebrows went up. "The Party has been voted into power?"

"Ha!" the other snorted. "The vote for the Party has fallen off by more
than a third."

The security colonel scowled at him. "That doesn't sound reasonable, if
the economic situation is as bad as has been reported."

His table mate put down the paper. "Why not? Has there ever been a country
where the Party was _voted_ into power? Anywhere--at any time during the
more than half a century since the Bolsheviks first took over here in
Russia?"

Simonov looked at him.

The other was talking out opinions he'd evidently formed while reading the
_Izvestia_ account of the Italian elections, not paying particular
attention to the stranger across from him.

He said, his voice irritated, "Nor will there ever be. They know better.
In the early days of the revolution the workers might have had illusions
about the Party and it goals. Now they've lost them. Everywhere, they've
lost them."

Ilya Simonov said tightly, "How do you mean?"

"I mean the Party has been rejected. With the exception of China and
Yugoslavia, both of whom have their own varieties, the only countries that
have adopted our system have done it under pressure from outside--not by
their own efforts. Not by the will of the majority."

Colonel Simonov said flatly, "You seem to think that Marxism will never
dominate the world."

"Marxism!" the other snorted. "If Marx were alive in Russia today, Frol
Zverev would have him in a Siberian labor camp within twenty-four hours."

Ilya Simonov brought forth his wallet and opened it to his police
credentials. He said coldly, "Let me see your identification papers. You
are under arrest."

The other stared at him for a moment, then snorted his contempt. He
brought forth his own wallet and handed it across the table.

Simonov flicked it open, his face hard. He looked at the man. "Konstantin
Kasatkin."

"Candidate member of the Academy of Sciences," the other snapped. "And
bearer of the Hero of the Soviet Union award."

Simonov flung the wallet back to him in anger. "And as such, practically
immune."

The other grinned nastily at him. "Scientists, my police friend, cannot be
bothered with politics. Where would the Soviet Complex be if you took to
throwing biologists such as myself into prison for making unguarded
stat