The Minister looked at the antique maps on his walls, and felt a thrill as he contemplated adding a new-old one, the reborn Soviet Union.

He glanced at his watch, noted that the storm should have passed by now and the money train should be reaching Khabarovsk. He picked up the telephone and asked his assistant to get General Orlov on the line. Once the train's arrival had been confirmed, he would have an airplane sent to meet them in Birobidzhan, the capital of the Jewish region on the Bira River. The Dalselmash harvester factory had a landing strip that would accommodate a medium-sized military aircraft.

The man who got on the line was not the wary but composed officer he'd spoken to earlier. He was surprisingly aggressive.

"Your plan has gone sour," the General said bluntly.

The Minister was suspicious. "Which plan? Has something happened to the train?"

"You could say that," Orlov replied. "As we speak, American commandos are attacking it."

Dogin sat up very straight. "The, train was your responsibility-- your son's!"

"I'm sure Nikita is doing his best to hold them off", Orlov said. "And the Americans are at a disadvantage. They don't want to hurt our people."

"They would be insane to," Dogin replied. "Where is Rossky?"

"Chasing spies," Orlov said. "But they eluded him. They caught the man who was tailing them and used his radio to put me in touch with an operations center in Washington. That's how I know about their plan. We tried to work things out."

"I don't want to hear about your failures," Dogin said. "I want Rossky found, and when he is you're relieved of your command."

"You forget," Orlov said. "Only the President can replace me."

"You will resign, General Orlov, or I'll have you removed from the Center."

"How will Rossky and his brownshirts get in?" Orlov asked. "As of now, the Center will be sealed off."

Dogin warned, "They will take it back!"

"Perhaps," Orlov said. "But not in time to help you save your train… or your cause."

"General!" Dogin yelled. "Think about what you're doing. Think about your son, your wife."

"I love them," Orlov said, "but I'm thinking about Russia now. I only wish I weren't alone. Goodbye, Minister."

Orlov hung up, and for nearly a minute Dogin sat squeezing the phone. It was impossible to imagine that he had come so far only to be undermined by Orlov's betrayal.

His brow flushed, hands shaking with rage, he set down the receiver and had his assistant call Air Force General Dhaka. The Americans had to have come in by air and no doubt were planning to get out the same way, fast and dirty. He would make that impossible, and if anything happened to his cargo the Americans would have to replace the money-- or their soldiers would be returned to them through Shovich, a piece at a time.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Tuesday, 11:10 P.M., Khabarovsk