ng Wims and they were almost
shouting when he was pulled from the room and thrown back into his cell.

In the chill, early hours of the following morning he was yanked out of
an embarrassing nightmare where he dreamed he went to a hoedown in his
briefs. He was squeezed between two furtive men into a shade-drawn
limousine with unillumined headlamps and after a frenzied ride the
vehicle screeched to a halt. He heard a roaring and in the darkness he
was dimly aware that he was being shoved into an airplane. After that he
was certain of nothing as he plunged gratefully back into sleep.

Wims was back at the hoedown only this time without even his briefs. And
all the interrogators had stopped dancing and were circled around him,
glaring and demanding to know what he was hiding. As they closed in upon
him he was snatched from the dream by two guards who prodded him out of
his cell, down a bleak corridor and into a large room. The windows were
hidden by drawn, dark-green shades and two low-hanging, unshaded
electric-light bulbs provided a harsh illumination. The chamber was
sparsely furnished with a splintered desk, several battered chairs and
half a dozen Russian MVD officers.

A man, so thick and heavy in appearance and movement that he was
obviously a concrete abutment come to life, stepped up to Wims. The
man's stony visage cracked in a slow, cold smile as he rumbled in
English, "Welcome to Moscow, Lieutenant Dolliver Wims. I am Colonel
Sergei Bushmilov. I am your friend." The word "friend" sounded rather
squeaky as if it had not been used in years and needed oiling.

Wims glanced around the room. These people were like unshielded reactors
throwing off hard radiations of hostility. "Ah sure could use a friend,"
he said with utmost fervency.

"Good!" said Bushmilov. "There are some things I wish to know and you
are going to tell to me because we are friends."

"Ah kin only give you mah name, rank an' serial number, suh." Wims saw
the colonel's face harden and his fist clench. Just then a burst of
angry shouting and scuffling erupted in the corridor. Suddenly the door
was flung open and half a dozen Chinese stormed into the room trailing a
couple of protesting Russian guards. Two of the Chinese were civilian
attaches from the embassy and the remainder were uniformed, military
intelligence officers.

* * * * *

Bushmilov whirled and immediately recognized the foremost man. "Colonel
Peng