Assignment - Suicide Read Online Free PDF Page B

eleven in the evening.
At every corner, a blue-capped politseyski directed the rush of traffic, the trolley-buses and
cars, helped by red and green signal lights much like those of Manhattan. Broad
yellow lines indicated crosswalks for the pedestrians.
    The girl swung off the Nevsky Prospekt into another avenue.
“The ballet will soon be over and we will meet Mikhail backstage. Mikhail is to
be trusted. Your friend, Marshall, was also a friend of Mikhail’s, and Mikhail
will take us to him."
    “Can’t we go to Marshall direct?”
    She shook her head. “I would not know the way. We must be
careful, naturally. Mikhail will help us find your associate—-and
afterward, we will do as Marshall says, whatever must be done.”
    “You implied Luke was in bad shape,” Durell said. “Is he
ill, or is he injured?”
    “Both. One as the result of the other. He has pneumonia as
the result of a bullet wound. You must understand the danger, because they
already know of us.” Durell followed her nod at the giant posters of the
current leaders of the Politburo, banners that fluttered in the chill wind that
swept the city from the Neva. Flags, slogans, placards and posters were being
erected all over the city in preparation for the May Day festivities to take
place the next week. The girl said: “If we are caught, it is prison or death.
For you, a bullet in the brain. A little care is desirable, da ?”
    She swung the car between two monumental palaces guarded by
uniformed soldiers with rifles outside the ornate iron gates. Within two
more blocks the bright facade of the main avenues yielded to a bumpy,
cobblestone street of drab houses where only a few lights gleamed. She turned
the Pobeda into a still narrower lane, where sagging wooden fences leaned over
puddles of mud and ice. A moment later she pulled the car into a clearing
fenced in by rubble, and braked to a halt.
    “We must not be late. Mikhail would worry. We will walk back
to the opera house—and let me do the talking. Mikhail is sensitive. He is in
love with me, which is why he is in this business with us.”
    Durell returned to the main street with her. The cutting
wind made him grateful for the fur hat and boots she had given him. Yet he felt
peculiarly vulnerable as they merged with the crowd on the wide avenue. The
girl tucked her arm in his as they walked. The clothing of the passers-by was
adequate but shabby in contrast to the magnificence of the reconstructed buildings
that lined the way. Yellow and red trolley-buses clanged and swept smoothly
along the vast street. There was a high percentage of military uniforms in the
crowd.
    He resisted an impulse to look back to see if they were
followed. The girl’s pressure on his arm hurried him along. She walked with a
long, free stride that matched his own, and the wind whipped and flapped
their coats as they crossed the open corners with the surge of the crowds.
Valya did not possess his discipline. Every now and then she turned her head
quickly, and the set of her mouth was tight and strained.
    The crowds were being disgorged from the Grand Opera House
as they neared the area. Floodlights played in varicolored beams on the vast,
columned face of the building. The press of people grew thicker.
    “This way," Valya murmured.
    She turned down the side of the building and edged her way
against the human tide into a smaller doorway that yielded to a wide, marble
hallway. A side door abruptly led them from this into an oasis of empty
silence.
    Durell had the feeling he was trapped in a marble maze as
they hurried along. The girl apparently knew the building intimately, but her
feeling of urgency made him uneasy. They were on the third floor, having
climbed a flight of circular marble stairs within earshot of noisy dressing
rooms high above the stage when they heard hurried footsteps coming toward
them. Durell caught the girl’s arm and pulled her into a dark side corridor.
The man coming toward them was running. He