The old general's eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth dropped open. "Three.. .

hundred.., nuclear warheads?"

Gabovich knew that the Byelorussian general would be impressed. "They are only very small nuclear warheads, weighing perhaps.., oh, sixteen or seventeen kilos." He knew that was about the size of a 100-millimeter artillery shell-small, easy to transport, easy to store, and adaptable to almost every kind of delivery system-which, Gabovich calculated, should make Voshchanka's mouth water even more. "Electronically adjustable yield and detonation triggers, a quite soldier-proof design. As I said, it is state-of-the-art. But when Fisikous is closed, all those weapons and all that technology will be either destroyed or sold- by the Commonwealth.

They keep the money or the weapons. I doubt if Belarus will see one kopek."

Voshchanka sat staring at General Gabovich, a slow, sly smile spreading across his face.

The implications hung in the air like a thick, heavy fog. A twinkle sparkled in Voshchanka's eyes, his mind casting about the possibilities, all exciting, all dangerous .. . "What is it you want to do, Comrade Gabovich? My government does not have the money to buy the Fisikous Institute, and I seriously doubt if we will be permitted to buy any of these weapons ourselves. We probably couldn't even afford one of your scientists."

Gabovich nodded sympathetically, but shrugged. He was going to let out a bit more line before reeling this one in. "Yes, funds are scarce everywhere, General Voshchanka. The price of reform, no? Belarus is spending billions of rubles on building its own military-why, you must be knee-deep in requisitions for boots and socks alone . . . forget any modern weapons of war."

Voshchanka's eyes flared at Gabovich, his cheeks a flash of red. "How dare-"

Gabovich held up a hand. "No offense intended, General. After all, I don't have all the answers. Only . . . more questions. For example, I've often wondered what the arrangement will be between Belarus, the Commonwealth, and Lithuania when all Belarus forces depart Lithuania. When the treaty concludes, all of your forces go home-but where does that leave Kalinin? Will Belarus be separated from Kalinin forever? Will your troops be granted access to its industrial centers and ports? Or will you have to pay tolls and duties to . . . Lithuania just to get wheat and oil from the ports that you built and protected? Will a television set or farm tractor cost double the normal price because of transit and excise fees imposed by Vilnius?"

Gabovich had hit another nerve.

Kalinin.

Located between Poland, Lithuania, and Byelorussia, the tiny industrial territory of Kalinin, with its large year-round Baltic Sea port city of Kaliningrad, its extensive air and rail transportation network facilities, and its very high standard of living, was the best-kept secret of the old Soviet Union. Temperate climate, lush forests, and arable, well-drained farmland, beautiful beyond compare, Kalinin oblast was an ideal place for both a military assignment and a permanent residence, despite its industrial pollution and the hectic life-style of its affluent citizens. Kalinin was officially part of the Russian Federation, but the rail lines and superhighways from Kaliningrad through Vilnius to Minsk were the life's blood of the people of Belarus. As long as the rail lines and highways were open, Belarus did not have to depend on Moscow for anything. Belarus, without any other outlet to the sea, was landlocked without Kaliningrad...