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certain amount of kickstrying to upset ideological applecarts.

  For the sake of staying in character, Hank said mildly, "Look here,are you a Communist?"

  She banged her glass down on the bar with enough force that thebartender looked over worriedly. "Did it ever occur to you that eventhough the Soviet Union might be wrong--if it is wrong--that doesn'tmean that the United States is right? You remind me of that ... that_politician_, whatever his name was, when I was a girl. Anybody whodisagreed with him was automatically a Communist."

  "McCarthy," Hank said. "I'm sorry, so you're not a Communist."

  She took up her glass again, still in a huff. "I didn't say I wasn't.That's my business."

  * * * * *

  The turboelectric ship _Baltika_ turned out to be the pride of theU.S.S.R. Baltic State Steamship Company. In fact, she turned out to bethe whole fleet. Like the rest of the world, the Soviet complex hadtaken to the air so far as passenger travel was concerned and alreadythe _Baltika_ was a left-over from yesteryear. For some reason theC.I.A. thought there might be less observation on the part of the KGBif Hank approached Moscow indirectly, that is by sea and fromLeningrad. It was going to take an extra four or five days, but, ifhe got through, the squandered time would have been worth it.

  An English speaking steward took up Hank's bag at the gangplank andhustled him through to his quarters. His cabin was forward and fourflights down into the bowels of the ship. There were four berths inall, two of them already had bags on them. Hank put his hand in hispocket for a shilling.

  The steward grinned and said, "No tipping. This is a Soviet ship."

  Hank looked after him.

  A newcomer entered the cabin, still drying his hands on a towel."Greetings," he said. "Evidently we're fellow passengers for theduration." He hung the towel on a rack, reached out a hand."Rodriquez," he said. "You can call me Paco, if you want. Did you evermeet an Argentine that wasn't named Paco?"

  Hank shook the hand. "I don't know if I ever met an Argentine before.You speak English well."

  "Harvard," Paco said. He stretched widely. "Did you spot those Russiangirls in the crew? Blond, every one blond." He grinned. "Not much timeto operate with them--but enough."

  A voice behind them, heavy with British accent said, "Good afternoon,gentlemen."

  He was as ebony as a negro can get and as nattily dressed as onlySavile Row can turn out a man. He said, "My name is Loo Motlamelle."He looked at them expressionlessly for a moment.

  Paco put out his hand briskly for a shake. "Rodriquez," he said. "Callme Paco. I suppose we're all Moscow bound."

  Loo Motlamelle seemed relieved at his acceptance, clasped Paco's hand,then Hank's.

  Hank shook his head as the three of them began to unpack to the extentit was desirable for the short trip. "The classless society. I wonderwhat First Class cabins look like. Here we are, jammed three in atelephone booth sized room."

  Paco chucked, "My friend, you don't know the half of it. There are_five_ classes on this ship. Needless to say, this is Tourist B, thelast."

  "And we'll probably be fed borsht and black bread the whole trip,"Hank growled.

  Loo Motlamelle said mildly, "I hear the food is very good."

  Paco stood up from his luggage, put his hands on his hips, "Gentlemen,do you realize there is no lock on the door of this cabin?"

  "The crime rate is said to be negligible in the Soviet countries," Loosaid.

  Paco put up his hands in despair. "That isn't the point. Suppose oneof us wishes to bring a lady friend into the cabin for ... a drink.How can he lock the door so as not to be interrupted?"

  Hank was chuckling. "What did you take this trip for, Paco? Aninvestigation into the mores of the Soviets--female flavor?"

  Paco went back to his bag. "Actually, I suppose I am one of the many.Going to the new world to see whether or not it is worth switchingalliances from the old."

  A distant finger of cold traced designs in Henry Kuran's belly. He hadnever heard the United States referred to as the Old World before. Ithad a strange, disturbing quality.

  Loo, who was now reclined on his bunk, said, "That's approximately thesame reason I visit the Soviet Union."

  Hank said quietly, "Who's sending you, Paco? Or are you on your own?"

  "No, my North American friend. My lips are sealed but I represent arather influencial group. All is not jest, even though I find life theeasier if one laughs often and with joy."

  Hank closed his bag and slid it under his bunk. "Well, you should havehad this influencial group pony up a little more money so you couldhave gone deluxe class."

  Paco looked at him strangely. "That is the point. We are notinterested in a red-carpet tour during which the very best would betrotted our for propaganda purposes. I choose to see the New World ashumbly as is possible."

  "And me," Loo said. "We evidently are in much the same position."

  Hank brought himself into character. "Well, lesson number one. Did younotice the teeth in that steward's face? Steel. Bright, gleamingsteel, instead of gold."

  Loo shrugged hugely. "This is the day of science. Iron rusts, it'strue, but I assume that the Soviet dentists utilize some method ofpreventing corrosion."

  "Otherwise," Paco murmured reasonably, "I imagine the Russiansexpectorate a good deal of rusty spittal."

  "I don't know why I keep getting into these arguments," Hank said."I'm just going for a look-see myself. But frankly, I don't trust aRussian any farther than I can throw one."

  "How many Russians have you met?" Loo said mildly. "Or are youropinions formed solely by what you have read in Americanpublications?"

  Hank frowned at him. "You seem to be a little on the anti-Americanside."

  "I'm not," Loo said. "But not pro-American either. I find much that isridiculous in the propaganda of both the Soviets and the West."

  "Gentlemen," Paco said, "the conversation is fascinating, but I mustleave you. The ladies, crowding the decks above, know not that mypresence graces this ship. It shall be necessary that I enlightenthem. _Adios amigos!_"

  * * * * *

  The _Baltika_ displaced eight thousand four hundred ninety-six tonsand had accommodations for three hundred thirty passengers. Of these,Hank Kuran estimated, approximately half were Scandinavians or Britishbeing transported between London, Copenhagen, Stockholm and Helsinkion the small liner's way to Leningrad.

  Of the tourists, some seventy-five or so, Hank estimated that all buthalf a dozen were convinced that Russian skunks didn't stink, in spiteof the fact that thus far they'd never been there to have a whiff. Thefew such as Loo Motlamelle, who was evidently the son of some Africanparamount chief, and Paco Rodriquez, had also never been to Russia butat least had open minds.

  Far from black bread and borscht, he found the food excellent. Thefirst morning they found caviar by the pound nestled in bowls of ice,as part of breakfast. He said across the table to Paco, "Propaganda. Iwonder how many people in Russia eat caviar."

  Paco spooned a heavy dip of it onto his bread and grinned back. "Thistype of propaganda I can appreciate. You Yankees should try it."

  Char was also eating at the other side of the community type table.She said, "How many Americans eat as well as the passengers on UnitedStates Lines ships?"

  It was as good an opportunity as any for Hank to place his characterin the eyes of his fellow Progressive Tours pilgrims. His need was toestablish himself as a moderately square tourist on his way to take alook-see at highly publicized Russia. Originally, the C.I.A. men hadwanted him to be slightly pro-Soviet, but he hadn't been sure he couldhandle that convincingly enough. More comfortable would be a role asan averagely anti-Russian tourist--not fanatically so, but averagely.If there were any KGB men aboard, he wanted to dissolve intomediocrity so far as they were concerned.

  Hank said now, mild indignation in his voice. "Do you contend that theaverage Russian eats as well as the average American?"

  Char took a long moment
to finish the bite she had in her mouth. Sheshrugged prettily. "How would I know? I've never been to the SovietUnion." She paused for a moment before adding, "However, I've done acertain amount of traveling and I can truthfully say that the worstslums I have ever seen in any country that can be considered civilizedwere in the Harlem district and the lower East Side of New York."

  All eyes were turned to him now, so Hank said, "It's a big country andthere are exceptions. But on the average the United States has thehighest standard of living in the world."

  Paco