s."

He said blankly, "But as an agent of the West--"

She frowned at him. "Mr. Dickson isn't an agent of the West. He's an
American journalist."

"Surely you can't believe he has no connections with the imperialist
governments."

"Certainly, he hasn't. What sort of meeting do you think this is? We're
not interested in Western propaganda. We're a group of intellectuals
searching for freedom of ideas."

Ilya Simonov was taken back once again.

* * * * *

Colonel Ilya Simonov dismissed his cab in front of the Ministry and walked
toward the gate. Down the street the same plainclothes man, who had been
lounging there the last time he'd reported, once again took him in, then
looked away. The two guards snapped to attention, and the security agent
strode by them unnoticing.

At the lieutenant's desk, before the offices of Kliment Blagonravov, he
stopped and said, "Colonel Simonov. I have no appointment but I think the
Minister will see me."

"Yes, Comrade Colonel," the lieutenant said. He spoke into an inter-office
communicator, then looked up. "Minister Blagonravov will be able to see
you in a few minutes, sir."

Ilya Simonov stared nervously and unseeingly out a window while he waited.
Gorki Park lay across the way. It, like Moscow in general, had changed a
good deal in Simonov's memory. Everything in Russia had changed a good
deal, he realized. And was changing. And what was the end to be? Or was
there ever an end? Of course not. There is no end, ever. Only new changes
to come.

The lieutenant said, "The Minister is free now, Comrade Colonel."

Ilya Simonov muttered something to him and pushed his way through the
heavy door.

Blagonravov looked up from his desk and rumbled affectionately, "Ilya!
It's good to see you. Have a drink! You've lost weight, Ilya!"

His top field man sank into the same chair he'd occupied nine months
before, and accepted the ice-cold vodka.

Blagonravov poured another drink for himself, then scowled at the other.
"Where have you been? When you first went off to Prague, I got reports
from you almost every day. These last few months I've hardly heard from
you." He rumbled his version of a chuckle. "If I didn't know you better,
I'd think there was a woman."

Ilya Simonov looked at him wanly. "That too, Kliment."

"You are jesting!"

"No. Not really. I had hoped to become engaged--soon."

"A party member? I never thought of you as the marrying ty