The president's right-hand man looked off into a corner of the room, unseeingly. "For more than a decade it's been a bloodless combat that we've been waging against the Russkies. The military machines, equally capable of complete destruction of the other, have been stymied Finally it's boiled down to an attempt to influence the neutrals, India, Africa, South America, to attempt to bring them into one camp or the other. Thus far, we've been able to contain them in spite of their recent successes. But given the prestige of being selected the dominant world power by the extraterrestrials and in possession of the science and industrial know-how from the stars, they'll have won the cold war over night." His old eyes flared. "You want to know where you come in, eh? Fine. Your job is to get to these Galactic Confederation emissaries and put a bug in their bonnet. Get over to them that there's more than one major viewpoint on this planet. Get them to investigate our side of the matter." "Get to them how? If the Russkies--" Hennessey was tired. The flash of spirit was fading. He lifted a thin hand. "One of my assistants is crossing the Atlantic with you. He'll give you the details." "But why _me_? I'm strictly a--" "You're an unknown in Europe. Never connected with espionage. You speak Russian like a native. Morton Twombly says you're his best man. Your records show that you can think on your feet, and that's what we need above all." Hank Kuran said flatly, "You might have asked for volunteers." "We did. You, you and you. The old army game," Hennessey said wearily. "Mr. Kuran, we're in the clutch. We can lose, forever--right now. Right in the next month or so. Consider yourself a soldier being thrown into the most important engagement the world has ever seen--combating the growth of the Soviets. We can't afford such luxuries as asking for volunteers. Now do you get it?" Hank Kuran could feel impotent anger rising inside him. He was off balance. "I get it, but I don't like it." "None of us do," Sheridan Hennessey said sourly. "Do you think any of us do?" He must have pressed a button. From behind them the major's voice said briskly, "Will you come this way, Mr. Kuran?" * * * * * In the limousine, on the way out to the airport, the bright, impossibly cleanly shaven C.I.A. man said, "You've never been behind the Iron Curtain before, have you Kuran?" "No," Hank said. "I thought that term was passe. Look, aren't we even going to my hotel for my things?" The second C.I.A. man, the older one, said, "All your gear will be waiting for you in London. They'll be sure there's nothing in it to tip off the KGB if they go through your bags." The younger one said, "We're not sure, things are moving fast, but we suspect that that term, Iron Curtain, applies again." "Then how am I going to get in?" Hank said irritably. "I've had no background for this cloak and dagger stuff."