it's illegal, but for that matter even the head
of the Skoda plant attended last week. It's only for the more advanced
intellectuals, of course. Very advanced. But, for that matter, I know a
dozen or so Party members, both Czech and Russian, who attend."

"But an American journalist? What's he doing in the country? Is he
accredited?"

"No, no. You misunderstand. He entered as a tourist, came across some
Prague newspapermen and as an upshot he's to give a talk on freedom of the
press."

"I see," Simonov said.

She was impatient with him. "You don't understand at all. See here, why
don't you come along tonight? I'm sure I can get you in."

"It sounds like a good idea," Ilya Simonov said. He was completely sober
now.

* * * * *

He made a written report to Kliment Blagonravov before turning in. He
mentioned the rather free discussion of matters political in the Czech
capital, using the man he'd met in the beer hall as an example. He
reported--although, undoubtedly, Blagonravov would already have the
information--hearing of a Polish Tri-D film which had defended the Old
Bolsheviks purged in the 1930s. He mentioned the literary magazine, with
its caricature of Frol Zverev, and, last of all, and then after
hesitation, he reported party member Catherina Panova, who evidently
belonged to a group of intellectuals who were not above listening to a
talk given by a foreign journalist who was not speaking under the auspices
of the Czech Party nor the government.

At the office, later, Catherina grinned at him and made a face. She ticked
it off on her fingers. "Riesling, barack, smoked black beer, and borovika
gin--we should have know better."

He went along with her, putting one hand to his forehead. "We should have
stuck to vodka."

"Well," she said, "tonight we can be virtuous. An intellectual evening,
rather than a carouse."

Actually, she didn't look at all the worse for wear. Evidently, Catherina
Panova was still young enough that she could pub crawl all night, and
still look fresh and alert in the morning. His own mouth felt lined with
improperly tanned suede.

He was quickly fitting into the routine of the office. Actually, it worked
smoothly enough that little effort was demanded of him. The Czech
employees handled almost all the details. Evidently, the word of his
evening on the town had somehow spread, and the fact that he was prone to
a good time had relieved their fears of a