Last Gasp полностью

Sturges unfastened the strap and swung open the front section of the case to reveal a quite ordinary camera. The recessed hole where the lens should have been made a snug silo for the gas-powered dart 2.3 centimeters in length. Cradling the camera in his lap, Sturges bent over it and lined up the crosshairs through the vertical viewfinder, aiming for the dead center of the body area, above the stomach and below the ribcage. The tipped dart would penetrate shirt and skin leaving a minuscule bloodless puncture, the toxin spreading through the arterial network--in two minutes, death.

Holding the camera steady with both hands he sighted and pressed the release button with his thumb. There was a faint phut from the compressed gas capsule. Through the viewfinder Sturges found himself looking not at a white shirt but at a scuffed and scarred brown briefcase, and from beneath the hat brim saw the briefcase swing past, embedded in it the tiny metallic end of the dart. Across from him a fat lady complained to anyone willing to listen: "That's what you get these days--you know?--for trying to act polite." She blew out a stomach-shaking sigh of disgust. "I outta save my breath."

"So you see, we had no choice. We had to leave." Boris reached across the table for his wife's hand. "It's, I am convinced, for the best."

Nina smiled hesitantly at Chase. Her English was poor and she had understood little of the conversation. She was delighted that Boris had so quickly encountered a friendly face, almost at the moment of arrival in America. The last forty-eight hours had been bewildering.

"Have you a place to go to?" Chase asked.

"Yes, I have friends at the Scripps Institution--but of course you know one of them--Theo's daughter. I tried to tell her in a letter, but I had to be careful. Still the authorities were suspicious. If we hadn't left when we did I think something would have happened. I knew too much about Project Arrow." Even though he spoke softly, his words lost in the buzz of voices in the bar, Boris couldn't help glancing nervously around. "Someone must be informed and I hope Cheryl can advise me. They must be told now, before it's too late."

"Is it going to happen soon?"

"A year, perhaps two. It cannot be far off."

Chase felt a flutter of excitement. Was this the nugget he'd been seeking? But how would Boris feel about him publishing it? He said, "I still don't see the logic in implementing the project before they have to. Isn't the point of it to have it there, ready, as a deterrent against the

United States? Surely if they go ahead it invalidates the reason for having it in the first place?"

"Who knows how they think?" Boris said gravely. "Can you--can any sane person understand how such minds function? Risking a global calamity in order to keep the balance of power--it's futile to expect logic. At my age I thought I'd seen every kind of wickedness and stupidity, that nothing could shock me ever again, but this . . ." He shook his head wearily. "It's beyond reason, beyond humanity, beyond anything."

Chase sipped his beer and said with a wry smile, "I wish you luck, Boris, but don't expect to be welcomed with open arms. Cheryl has been fighting the same battle ever since Theo died."

"I know that his warning went unheeded," Boris said. "But they will have to listen to me. They must. "

There was nothing to be lost and a great deal to be gained. As Chase told him about his assignment and how he would like to use the information about Project Arrow in his series of articles, the Russian's eyes took on a new light. But yes, yes, of course he was agreeable! For obvious reasons he had committed nothing to paper, but as soon as he was settled here he would set down everything he knew and send it to Chase in London. The more people who knew about it, the better.

Chase tore a page from his notebook and wrote down his address.

"Send it to me here. Naturally I won't reveal the source, not even to my editor."

"Thank you," Boris said, pumping his hand warmly.

"It's me who should thank you, Boris. You're doing me the favor." Chase looked at the time and said, "I have to go; my flight leaves shortly." He turned and smiled at Nina. "Please tell your wife that I hope she is happy in her new life. You too, of course, Boris." He held out his hand to her, but she didn't take it. Her eyes had a glazed expression, fixed unblinkingly on the door to the transit lounge.

Boris asked her a question to which she replied in a rushed, barely audible voice, making him spin around in his chair. He turned back and grasped her by the wrist, his tone urgent, almost harsh. Nina nodded without taking her eyes off the entrance.

"What is it?"

Boris was crouched forward, his forearms flat on the table as if trying to make himself invisible. "We are being watched. A man has been observing us for the past few minutes. Nina is afraid he is KGB or someone from the Russian embassy." "Is she positive?"

"She thinks he has been taking pictures. He has a camera."