"If you're familiar with their recent history, you'll recall that their former dictator, Stalin, died early last year. The new premier, Malenkov, is a man to his people, where Stalin was a god. With their effective propaganda-indoctrination machines, I don't doubt Malenkov will one day also be regarded almost as a deity--if we give them time. That's what the monopolist wants, naturally. It's a necessary part of his plans. But Chenkov, the new Army Chief is backed by a strong military clique which would like him and not Malenkov to assume the mantle of godhood. As for the people, they were willing to take what Stalin dished out because Stalin was their god; but Malenkov is not only a man but a hated half-Tartar, and the people grumble whenever they have to tighten their belts another notch. "So, Malenkov will one day have godhood. That was their original plan, but there is another development paralleling it. Wild claims have come out of Russia, rumors, whispered talk--all saying that Stalin, miraculously, is living again. It's sheer imagination, I suspect. It's an attempt to pan a make-believe Stalin off on the people in case Malenkov falls on his face while playing God." "Then we go to Moscow," said Tedor, "as Russians, of course. We must discredit Malenkov where possible, disprove the Stalin re-birth theory--" "And incite the people to revolt," Laniq finished for him. "Well," said Tedor, and smiled. "It isn't as difficult as it looks, although I think I'd rather go hunting for lions with my bare hands. You see, I've been to Russia before, several times, and for the same reason. I have a fictitious identity there, which I assume on arrival. I've managed to snag a few top men as--uh, admirers. That includes Vladimir Chenkov, by the way." "Sounds better already. You stay with your father," said Tedor, "for a while. I'm taking a trip up to New York to get some information from our Century Agent there. Then I'll return, pick up one female intriguer out here in Nevada, and we'll be on our way. Take care of yourselves." And Tedor left. "Nice chap," Hadrien told his daughter. She smiled at him. "You know something Dad? I'm just beginning to realize that. Very nice." * * * * * The office was on the twenty-third floor of a big office building in mid-town New York, room 2307. It came with all the standard equipment, desks, filing cabinets, chairs, phones, an attractive secretary. "I'd like to see Mr. Sertant," Tedor told the secretary, who was leafing through one magazine with half a dozen others waiting their turn. "Isn't a very busy office," she told him flushing slightly. "I didn't think it would be." "You know Mr. Sertant?" "We're old friends," Tedor assured her. It wasn't the truth, for he'd never met Sertant, although he had heard of the Agent. "Then can you do me a favor, Mister?" "Maybe."