ectionate squeeze in way of greeting, then shook hands
with Simonov when Catherina introduced him.

"Newly from Moscow, eh?" the film director said, squinting at the security
agent. He had a sharp glance, almost, it seemed to Simonov, as though he
detected the real nature of the newcomer. "It's been several years since
I've been to Moscow. Are things loosening up there?"

"Loosening up?" Simonov said.

Leos Dvorak laughed and said to Catherina, "Probably not. I've always been
of the opinion that the Party's influence would shrivel away first at its
extremities. Membership would fall off abroad, in the neutral countries
and in Common Europe and the Americas. Then in the so-called satellite
countries. Last of all in Russia herself. But, very last, Moscow--the
dullest, stodgiest, most backward intellectually, capital city in the
world." The director laughed again and turned away to greet a new guest.

This was open treason. Ilya Simonov had been lucky. Within the first few
days of being in the Czech capital he'd contacted one of the groups which
he'd been sent to unmask.

Now he said mildly to Catherina Panova, "He seems rather outspoken."

She chuckled. "Leos is quite strongly opinionated. His theory is that the
more successful the Party is in attaining the goals it set half a century
ago, the less necessary it becomes. He's of the opinion that it will
eventually atrophy, shrivel away to the point that all that will be needed
will be the slightest of pushes to end its domination."

Ilya Simonov said, "And the rest of the group here, do they agree?"

Catherina shrugged. "Some do, some don't. Some of them are of the opinion
that it will take another blood bath. That the party will attempt to hang
onto its power and will have to be destroyed."

Simonov said evenly, "And you? What do you think?"

She frowned, prettily. "I'm not sure. I suppose I'm still in the process
of forming an opinion."

Their host was calling them together and leading the way to the garden
where chairs had been set up. There seemed to be about twenty-five persons
present in all. Ilya Simonov had been introduced to no more than half of
them. His memory was good and already he was composing a report to Kliment
Blagonravov, listing those names he recalled. Some were Czechs, some
citizens of other satellite countries, several, including Catherina, were
actually Russians.

The American, a newspaperman named Dickson, had an open-faced freshness,