"Has Moran the guts to accept?"

"If one man who was being held prisoner in an extremely vulnerable situation stood between you and leadership of a superpower, how would you play it?"

Antonov broke into a loud laugh that frightened a nearby bird into flight. "You read through me like glass, old friend. I see your point. I wouldn't hesitate to remove him."

"The American news media report that Moran is claiming Margolin committed suicine by drowning."

"So your theory is on firm ground," said Antonov. "Maybe the old Steel Lotus will end up doing us a favor after all."

"At least our deal with her didn't cost anything."

"Speaking of cost, what is the status of the gold?"

"Admiral Borchavski has begun salvage operations. He expects to raise every bar within three weeks."

"That's good news," said Antonov. "And what of Dr. Lugovoy?

Can he continue his project after the President is cast from office?"

"He can," Polevoi replied. "Locked inside the President's head is a vast treasure store of United States secrets. Lugovoy has yet to tap it."

"Then keep the project going. provide Lugovoy with an extensive list of delicate political and military subjects we wish explored. All American leaders who leave office are consulted for their experience, regardless of inept handling of their administrations. The capitalist masses have short memories. The knowledge the President now possesses and has yet to learn from briefings by his successors can be of great benefit to us in the future. This time we shall practice patience and probe slowly. The President's brain may turn out to be a goose that lays golden intelligence eggs for decades to come."

Polevoi raised his glass. " A toast to the best secret agent we ever recruited."

Antonov smiled. "Long may he produce."

Across half a world, Raymond Edgely sat at a console and read the data that unrolled from a paper recorder. He raised his glasses and rubbed his reddened eyes. Despite his seeming tiredness, there was a tightly contained nervous energy about him. His competitive juices were stirred. The opportunity to beat his most esteemed counterpart in a game of psychological intrigue drove him beyond any thought of sleep.

Dr. Harry Greenberg, a respected psychiatric researcher in his own right, lit a curved-stem clay pipe. After stoking the stained yellow bowl to life, he pointed the mouthpiece at the recorder.

"No sense in waiting any longer, Ray. I'm satisfied we have the necessary data to make the switch."

"I hate to rush in before I'm certain we can fool Aleksei."

"Do it," Greenberg urged. "Stop screwing around and go for it."

Edgely looked around at his ten-member team of psychologists.

They stared back at him expectantly. Then he nodded. "Okay, everybody stand by to transfer thought communication from the President's implant to our central computer."