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e possessed information vital to the American secret service system。 Minck had been chosen by puter…because of his facility with idiomatic Russian as well as his somatic matchup with the Slavic Caucasian type…and they had sent him in to pull Mikhail out or； if that were； as they put it； unfeasible； to extract the information from him。
But in pursuit of that knowledge； he had been traduced。 Someone in Mikhail's cell had been turned； and Minck's rdv with the dissident had ended in a hail of submachine…gun fire literally tearing Mikhail in two； in spotlights picking Minck out of the shadows； the snow falling； falling。 All sounds muffled； blood in the snow like chips of coal strewn in an explosion of malice； chain…wrapped tires clink…clink…clinking in his ears as he ran from the raised voices； the muzzles spewing red death hidden behind the angry glare of the spotlights。 And running through the knifing cold； snowflakes riming his lashes； blinding him； making him think； oddly； of Kathy； his college sweetheart； his wife。 How she loved the snow； holding out her delicate hand； laughing in delight as one by one the flakes landed on her flesh； melting only after giving up their secret to her； only her。
Slipping on the patch of ice； undone by the blanket of snow； his ankle wrenching； going down； and then strong arms binding him； lights in his face； the gassy smells of cabbage and borscht invading his nostrils； voices harsh and guttural； 〃Gde bumagie！ Kak vass zavoot！〃 Where are your papers？ What is your name？ repeated over and over； life already reduced down to one dull fragment。 Eight years ago。
〃Carroll？〃
She was the only one who knew what the C。 stood for； the only one who would dare use it if it were known。 It was the only outward manifestation he would permit of the powerful bond between them。
〃Yes； Tanya。〃
She glanced down at the brief he had been reading。 〃Is the file on Nicholas Linnear plete？〃
〃No file on a human being is ever plete； no matter how up to date it is。 I want you to remember that。〃 He said this last needlessly since Tanya remembered everything。
Looking at her again； Minck was struck anew by how much she resembled Mikhail。 Both had the finely chiseled； high…cheek…boned face of the purebred White Russian rather than the broad； coarse…structured visage of the Slav。 Both had that thick； straight shock of hair； though in latter days Tanya had had hers dyed a deep…burnished blond because； she said； it helped dampen the memories。
After he had broken out of Lubyanka； a colonel's blood on his trembling hands； with all of the considerable might of the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnost marshaled against him； with the militia out beating on dissident necks to extract information on his whereabouts； Tanya had led him out of Moscow and； eventually； Russia。
He owed her a lot； and it had incensed him when in the hands of the Family…in those days； of course； there was no Red Station…they had taken her away from him and； in a lightless cell； had begun on her what the KGB had worked on him。 He soon put a stop to that； risking his own termination in the process。 But that was only his first stumbling step to reclaiming a life that he thought had been cut away from him as surely and as professionally as a surgeon takes a scalpel to flesh。
Because of his incarceration； he was himself suspect at first。 But when he delivered Mikhail's information to them they saw reason and no longer suspected him of having been turned。 He never let them know； however； that the information had e from Tanya long after Mikhail had died in the bloody Moscow fusillade； torn in frozen chunks from her throat during the long； bitter nights in hiding； so near the encroaching death drawing in all around them。 He had had little strength after his ordeal and she had done his fighting for him； rising silently up out of their hiding places in cave or fen to cut down any soldier who strayed too close； a blood…drenched spectral figure returning to him after each lethal foray to lead him onward toward freedom。 She was strong and she was hard and she had saved him many times； repaying him for taking her out of Lubyanka with him。 And； he had quickly learned； her mind was as quick and powerful as was her body。 Her memory had been the repository for all of Mikhail's secrets； he being far too intelligent to mit anything so explosive to paper。
When； three years before； Minck； rising rapidly in the Family； had proposed the creation of the Red Station to deal with all the Russias； their satellites； and their global dealings； he was granted eighteen months in which to deliver what his presentation promised。 It had only taken him eighteen weeks； and from then on a burgeoning slice of the Family's annual budget was assured。 He negotiated for his section much as a good attorney for a star baseball player will negotiate with a club president。 His contract was airtight。 If he continued to deliver。 And Minck made certain of that。
But it was not really of budgets； Tanya； or even the Family that Minck was thinking now。 He had sunk deep into an odd kind of reverie that； increasingly； had bee his habit over the past several months。
In fact he was wondering how a highly intelligent； well…trained operations officer named Carroll Gordon Minck could find himself in such dire straits。
It was somewhat of a shock to him； because after his nightmare ordeal in Lubyanka he never thought he would feel this way again。 In those bleak； bloodfilled days； the memory of Kathy was all that he had allowed himself to dwell on。 Anything to do with the Family was strictly no go since at any given moment he could be dragged from his steel cot and shot full of God only knew what new blend of chemicals…psychedelics and neutral stimulators… so that he would be transported and talking before he knew that he had opened his mouth。
The Russians were at last as intimate with Kathy as he had ever been。 But they knew no more about the Family than they had the day the snow had worked against him and they had pulled him in。 〃Gde bumagie！ Kak vass zavoot！〃
When he returned to America； his relationship with Kathy was irreparably damaged。 He had shared their most intimate moments with too many people for whom he felt only fear and loathing。 It was as if he had sat down to discuss his sex life with the man who had just raped his wife。 There had been a silent explosion in his head。 He did not love Kathy any less on his return from his own private hell； but he found that he could not touch her without being torn out of time and place back to the dank； fearful cell deep within Moscow。 That his mind would not allow； so they remained apart to the night she was killed。 And of course by that time he had convinced himself that they had stripped him of his capacity to savor sexual release。
Then this whole godawful mess had begun。 But still it was beyond him to understand how he had gotten from there to here； hopelessly in love with a woman whom he should not…could not…love。 Was it only two weeks ago that he had clandestinely flown down to see her for the weekend？ Oh； Christ； but it felt like two years。 He stared blindly down at his hands and had to laugh at himself。 Needed to do that les