Malenkov growled, but looked again at the brain floating in its case. The white-smocked figure adjusted some dials on a table nearby. On the wall behind the glass enclosed brain, a microphone-speaker blared metallically: "Are they both here? Malenkov and Chenkov, both of them?" "Yes," said Zhubin. "Yes, Comrade Stalin. They are here." "You now know that I live," said the brain. "It is a strange new life I have, but I can think--perhaps more clearly than would otherwise be possible, for I have no body to encumber me. Before I go on, do you have any questions?" Malenkov blinked his fat-enveloped eyes. Chenkov stared. "Very well. The day my body died, a quick operation removed the brain and preserved it. Comrade Zhubin--working under the direction of a man you've only seen once or twice--transferred the brain, my brain exactly as it was in life so that when I speak you will know it is Stalin, the Man of Iron, talking, into this case. I have since conferred with the man who made the operation possible, the man who can do great things for Mother Russia, and because talking tires me in some strange way and he knows the situation more completely at this time than I do, I want you to listen to him as if it were I, Stalin, talking." There was a silence. The half dozen figures still stood around the brain case, but one of them turned slowly around to look at all the earnest faces. His eyes raked Laniq. "A woman?" he said, incredulously, and his eyes wandered, then darted back. "Laniq Hadrien!" he cried. "Who brought this woman here? Fools! Speak!" "It was Chenkov," fat Malenkov said spitefully. "Is that true?" the man demanded. Chenkov nodded defiantly. "So what?" "So what? So this, you idiot! That girl is a representative of our most dangerous enemy." "The United States?" wailed Malenkov. "Far worse than the United States." Laniq sprinted for the doorway at the other end of the room, heard the voice call from behind her: "Guards! Stop that woman!" The speaker was Mulid Ruscar. * * * * * When Laniq failed to return Tedor began to worry. It suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to reach Mulid Ruscar for help. True, Ruscar had sent out an order for his arrest, but directives could be mis-read, transferred incorrectly. Perhaps Ruscar merely needed him urgently. Perhaps Ruscar had realized he would be flitting through the ages and nothing short of arrest would detain him long enough for them to get together. Tedor used his tongue to flick on the tiny transmitter embedded in his palate, then said: "This is Tedor Barwan calling Mulid Ruscar. Barwan calling Ruscar." He waited not more than half a minute when the answering voice whispered in his ear. "Tedor, where are you?" "In Moscow, Chief. I'm sorry I couldn't wait in New York. I have news for you. It's about Laniq Hadrien." "Laniq? Oh, of course. Laniq Hadrien eh? Where are you?" Tedor gave Ruscar his address.