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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4b9063 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51256 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51256) diff --git a/old/51256-8.txt b/old/51256-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2623975..0000000 --- a/old/51256-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1336 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cool War, by Andrew Fetler - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Cool War - -Author: Andrew Fetler - -Release Date: February 21, 2016 [EBook #51256] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COOL WAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE COOL WAR - - by ANDREW FETLER - - Illustrated by NODEL - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction June 1963. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - Here's what happens when two Master - Spies tangle ... and stay that way! - - -"Nothing, nothing to get upset about," Pashkov said soothingly, taking -his friend's arm as they came out of the villa forty miles from Moscow. -Pashkov looked like a roly-poly zoo attendant leading a tame bear. -"Erase his memory, give him a new name and feed him more patriotism. -Very simple." - -Medvedev raised his hand threateningly. "Don't come howling to me if -everybody guesses he is nothing but a robot." - -Pashkov glanced back at the house. Since the publication of _Dentist -Amigovitch_, this house had become known all over the world as Boris -Knackenpast's villa. Now the house was guarded by a company of -soldiers to keep visitors out. From an open window Pashkov heard the -clicking of a typewriter. - -"It's when they're not like robots that everybody suspects them," he -said, climbing into his flier. "Petchareff will send you word when to -announce his 'death'." - -"A question, brother." - -"No questions." - -"Who smuggled the manuscript out of Russia?" - -Pashkov frowned convincingly. "Comrade Petchareff has suspected even -me." - -He took off for Moscow, poking his flier up through the clouds and -flying close to them, as was his habit. Then he switched on the radio -and got Petchareff's secretary. "Nadezhda?" - -"I know what you're up to, Seven One Three," Nadezhda Brunhildova said. -"Don't try to fool _me_, you confidence man. You are coming in?" - -"In ten minutes. What have I done now?" - -"You were supposed to make funeral arrangements for Knackenpast, so -what are you doing in Stockholm?" - -"Stockholm?" - -"You're lying and I'll kill you. Don't you think I know about Anastina, -that she-nurse in the Stockholm National Hospital?" - -"Darling, why so cruel? Anastina is one of our contacts. Besides, she's -cross-eyed and buck-toothed." - -"Beast!" She switched him to Petchareff. - -"What's been keeping you, Pashkov?" - -"Consoling Medvedev. Am I supposed to be in Stockholm?" - -"Never mind, get here at once. What size hospital gown do you wear?" - -"Hospital gown?" - -"Stockholm embassy says you're in the National Hospital there. In a -hospital gown. I got through to Anastina. She says it's Colonel James -again. He looks like you now." - -Pashkov grunted. - -"I'll never understand," said Petchareff, "why all top secret agents -have to look like bankers. Anastina says Colonel James was operated on -by a Monsieur Fanti. What do you know about him?" - -"He's a theatrical surgeon." - -"You're not playing one of your jokes, Pashkov?" - -"Hardly." - -"You'd better be in my office in ten minutes. What size hospital gown?" - -"Short and fat," Pashkov said, and switched off. - -Most countries wanted to break his neck, and his own Motherland did not -always trust him. But he enjoyed his work--enjoyed it as much as his -closest professional rival, Colonel James, U.S.A. - - * * * * * - -Pashkov landed on the roof of Intelligence in the northeast corner of -the Kremlin, hitched up his pants and rode down. - -In his office, Petchareff removed the cigar from his mouth as Pashkov -came in. "Medvedev get my orders?" - -"He's preparing a new super-patriotic writer to replace Boris -Knackenpast," Pashkov reported. "When you give the word, he will call -_Izvestia_ and tell them Boris is dead." - -Petchareff glanced at his calendar. "We have two other state funerals -this week. You made it plain, I hope, we want no repetition of -Knackenpast's peace nonsense?" - -"No more Gandhi or Schweitzer influences. The new literature," Pashkov -promised, raising a chubby finger, "will be a pearl necklace of -government slogans." - -Nadezhda buzzed the intercom. "The man from the Bolshoi Theater is -here, Comrade." - -"Send him in." - -A small man hurried into the room. He had a narrow face and the -mustache of a mouse and a mousy nose, but his eyes were big rabbit -eyes. He bowed twice quickly, placed a package on the desk with -trembling forepaws and bowed twice again. - -Petchareff tore open the package. "You got the real thing? No bad -imitation?" - -"Exactly, exactly," the mouse piped. "No difference, Comrade." He held -his paws as in prayer and his pointed mouth quivered. - -Petchareff held up the hospital gown. On the back of the gown was -printed in indelible ink: - - stockholm national hospital - courtesy of - Coca-Cola - -Petchareff tossed the gown to Pashkov. "This is what Colonel James is -wearing," he said, dismissing the mouse, who bowed twice and scurried -out. - -"Try and split the allies," Pashkov muttered, reading the legend on the -gown. - -Petchareff blew cigar smoke in his face. "If Colonel James makes a -monkey of you once more, you're through, Pashkov. You don't take your -job seriously enough. You bungle this and I'll have you transferred to -our Cultural Information Center in Chicago." - -Pashkov winced. - -"Now, you'll go to Stockholm and switch places with the American -colonel and find out what they're up to. Zubov's kidnaping team is -there already, at Hotel Reisen. Any questions?" - -"I thought Zubov was a zoological warfare expert. What is he doing with -a kidnaping team?" - -"His team is more agile. On your way." - -In the front office, Pashkov stopped to kiss Nadezhda Brunhildova -goodby. "I may not return from this dangerous mission. Give me a tender -kiss." - -Nadezhda was a big girl with hefty arms, captain of her local broom -brigade. "Monster!" She seized him by the collar. "Is Anastina -dangerous?" - -"Darling!" - -"Bitter sweetness!" she howled, dropping him. "Go, love. Make me -miserable." - - * * * * * - -Pashkov spent an hour at Central Intelligence. Nothing unusual going on -in Stockholm: an industrial exhibit, the Swedish Academy in session, -a sociology seminar on prison reform, a forty-man trade mission from -India. - -An addendum to the Stockholm file listed two Cuban agents operating -from Fralsningsarmen's Economy Lodgings. They were buying small arms -and ammunition. He thought a moment, impressed the Cubans' address on -his memory, and went to his flier. - -He did not fly to Hotel Reisen at once. Zubov's kidnaping team could -wait. Coming slowly over Stockholm he spotted the National Hospital and -circled. - -A line of ambulance fliers was parked on the ground in the ambulance -court. On the hospital roof, he noticed, apart from private fliers, -stood a flier that resembled his own. - -He veered away, detoured around Riddarholmen, and five minutes later -landed on the roof of Fralsningsarmen's Economy Lodgings--the Salvation -Army flophouse. - -"My Cuban friends," Pashkov inquired in fluent English at the desk on -the top floor. "Are they in?" - -The old desk clerk looked like a stork. "Yu, room six fifteen," he -clacked. "Tree floors down. Aer yu Amerikan?" - -"Brazil." - -"Ah so? You sprikker goot Inglish laik me." - -"Very kind of you." - -He rode down three floors, found room 615, and stopped as he heard -voices within. - -"... _dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete_. By seven o'clock tonight, -okay, Gringo?" - -"What do you expect for seven thousand bucks--service? Look, boys, I'm -just a honest businessman. I can't get it for you today. Have a seegar, -Pablo." - -"Tfu!" - -"All rightie, your cause is my cause. Maybe I can get it for you -tonight. But you'll have to pay in advance. What do you say, Francisco?" - -"I counted the money. It is waiting for you. You deliver, we pay." - -"But how can I trust you? I like you boys, I know you like me, but -business is business. I gotta give something to my jobber, don't I?" - -"Gringo!" - -At that moment Pashkov knocked on the door. - -From within: "Shh! _Alguien llama a la puerta._" - -Pashkov knocked again and a scuffle ensued within, the crack of a chair -on a skull, the dragging of a beefy body into a closet, and the slam -of the closet door. - -"_Yu?_" - -"_Buenas tardes_," Pashkov said through the door. "_Asuntos muy -importantes._" - -The door opened a crack and two dark eyes in a young bearded face -peered out. "Eh?" - -"_Gospodin Pashkov, para servir a usted._" - -The door opened enough to admit the roly-poly visitor into the room. -The other Cuban, also bearded and wearing a fatigue cap, held a -revolver. - -"No gun-play, caballeros," Pashkov went on in Spanish. "We are in the -Salvation Army charity house, not in a two-peso thriller. Besides, I -deliver before I ask payment." - -"Deliver what, senor?" - -"We favor any disturbance close to the United States. May I sit down?" - -Between two beds were stacked some dozen crates of explosives. A small -table was littered with papers. - -Sitting down at the table, Pashkov's elbow rested on an invoice, and -moments later the invoice was tucked in his pocket. - -"What kind of ammunition do you need, caballeros?" - -The Cubans looked at each other. "Thirty-o-six caliber, two-twenty -grain. How much can you deliver?" - -"Two thousand rounds." - -"Not much." - -"Maybe three thousand. I'll toss in a box of hand grenades and a can of -lysergic acid diethylamide." - -"You have that? You have LSD-25?" - -"I have that. When are you leaving Stockholm?" - -Again the young beards exchanged looks. "Maybe we stay till tomorrow -if you have more business. Three thousand rounds is not much. How much -payment, senor?" - -"Two thousand kronor," Pashkov said, taking an envelope on the table -and addressing it to Nadezhda Brunhildova, Kremlin, Moscow. No return -address. - -"Do you trust us to send the money?" - -"It is bad for you if I do not trust you," Pashkov said, smiling up at -them. - -"You can trust us. We shall send the money. Please take a cigar." - -Pashkov took four Havanas from the box they held out to him, stuck -three in his breast pocket, and lit one. - -"You come again, senor. We make much business." - -"Why not? Help retire Latin-American dictators to Siberia. More gold in -Siberia than in Las Vegas." - -"Hyi, hyi, that is funny. You come again." - -On his way up to the roof, Pashkov studied the invoice he had lifted. -It was from a manufacturer of sporting arms to Francisco Jesus Maria -Gonzales, Salvation Army Economy Lodgings. He tucked the invoice into -his inner pocket with a satisfied grunt, climbed into his flier and -hopped over to Hotel Reisen, where Zubov's kidnaping team was waiting -for him. - - * * * * * - -Comrade Zubov, the kidnaping expert, was pacing the roof of Hotel -Reisen. As Pashkov eased down in his flier, Zubov's big front tooth -flashed with delight. Pashkov felt like tossing him a bone. - -"Everything in order, Gospodin Pashkov. Constant vigilance maintained -at hospital by my two assistants. With your pardon, Comrade Petchareff -urges all haste. Colonel James is due to leave the hospital tomorrow." - -"Comrade Petchareff always urges haste. What else?" - -Zubov's big tooth settled respectfully over his lower lip. His small -eyes were so closely set that he looked cockeyed when he focused them -on his superior. - -"With your pardon, I shall conduct you to our suite. Plans for -kidnaping of Colonel James all ready." - -"Here's a cigar for you." - -"Gratefully accepted. Reduced unavoidable fatalities to six." Zubov -counted on his long hard fingers. "Two watchmen, three nurses, one -doctor." - -In the hotel corridor, Zubov looked before and after, his eyes crossed -suspiciously, and peered around corners. They got to their suite -without incident, and Pashkov gave him another cigar. - -"Gratefully accepted. Here is a map of hospital and grounds. Here is a -map of twenty-third floor. Here is a map of Colonel James' room. Here -is hospital routine between midnight and dawn. With your pardon--" - -Pashkov picked up the phone, dialed the Soviet embassy, and got the -chargé d'affaires. "How is your underdeveloped countries fund?" he -asked. - -"Always depleted, always replenished." - -"I don't want any Russian brands." - -"Nothing but foreign," the chargé buzzed. "We got almost everything now -through an American surplus outlet in Hamburg. Nationals get caught -with American goods, Americans get blamed. Wonderful confusion. What do -you need?" - -"Thirty-o-six two-twenty, three thousand--if you have it." - -"Most popular. What else?" - -"Pineapples--one crate." - -"Only confiscated German potatoes. Will that do?" - -"Fine. And a small can of sentimental caviar." - -"Too risky." - -"It's all right. It will fall to local authorities by tomorrow." - -Pashkov put down the receiver. Give the Cubans enough to expect -more--make sure they stay in town. - - * * * * * - -Zubov was cross-checking his kidnaping plans. He said, "With your -pardon, do we take Colonel James alive or dead-or-alive?" - -"Alive." - -Zubov pulled a long face. "Dead-or-alive would be easier, Gospodin -Pashkov. Fast, clean job." - -Pashkov squinted at Zubov's crossed eyes. "Have you had your eyes -examined lately?" - -"No need," Zubov assured him with a smile. "I see more than most -people." - -Pashkov held up his remaining cigar. "How many cigars in my hand?" - -"Two." - -At that moment the door opened and Zubov's kidnaping team lumbered -in. They were a couple of big apes dressed in blue canvas shoes, red -trousers, yellow jackets, white silk scarves, sport caps and sun -glasses. - -"What are you doing here?" cried Zubov. "Why aren't you observing the -hospital?" - -"Dhh, you said to report ... um ... if something happened," the first -ape said in a thick voice. - -"Well?" - -"Victim's room lights out," the ape said. - -"My assistants," Zubov introduced them to Pashkov. "Line up, line up, -lads. With your pardon, they are good lads. This is Petya, and this is -Kolya. No, _this_ is Kolya and this one is Petya." - -"Twins?" - -"Not exactly. Same genetic experiment. Good lads. Stand straight, -Petya. Don't curl your feet like that, Kolya, I've told you before. Why -didn't you shave your hands today?" - -Kolya looked guiltily at his hands. - -"They've made progress," Zubov assured Pashkov, pulling a small whip -from his hip pocket. "Straight, lads, straight," he flicked the whip. -"We have company." - -"Are their costumes your own idea?" - -"With your pardon, for purposes of concealment. What are your orders?" - -Pashkov told them to pick up the boxes of ammunition at the embassy and -deliver them to the Cubans, and then to commandeer a private automobile. - -"We have autos at the embassy pool," Zubov suggested. - -"I want a vehicle off the street. Then report back here with your -lads." - -Petya gave Kolya a box on the ear. - -"Boys, boys!" Zubov cracked the whip. "Out you go. A job for Gospodin -Pashkov, lads. They don't get enough exercise," he grinned, backing out -after them. "With your pardon, I'll thrash them later." - -And they were gone. Pashkov turned to the hospital maps and studied -them before taking a nap. - - * * * * * - -Shortly before dawn, Zubov's team returned, their mission accomplished. - -"With your pardon, an excellent Mercedes," Zubov reported. - -Pashkov had changed into the hospital gown with the Coca-Cola legend on -the back. He glanced at his watch. It was four o'clock in the morning. - -He tossed his bundle of clothing to the first ape. "Take my flier back -to Moscow, Kolya lad. Give my clothes to Nadezhda Brunhildova, and tell -Comrade Petchareff to expect Colonel James today." - -Clutching the bundle, Kolya stuck his tongue out at Petya and bounded -out of the room. They waited at the window until they saw Kolya take -off in Pashkov's flier. Then they made their way down the service -stairs to the alley, Pashkov dressed only in the hospital gown; got -into the stolen Mercedes and drove to the National Hospital, all three -leaning forward. - -In the ambulance court, Zubov and Petya moved quickly to a Red Cross -flier. Pashkov dropped the invoice he had lifted from the Cubans on the -front seat of the stolen car, and followed. - -A watchman emerged from his hut, looked idly up at the rising -ambulance, and shuffled back to his morning coffee. - -As Petya brought the flier to a hovering stop against Colonel James' -window, Pashkov bounced into the room; Zubov drew his gun and jumped in -after. - -Colonel James awoke, turned on the night lamp, and sat up in the bed, -his eyes blinking. - -Pashkov stood looking at Colonel James. The resemblance between them -was remarkable. Zubov's eyes were crossed with astonishment. - -"My dear Gospodin Pashkov!" Colonel James greeted him in Russian, -yawning. "How kind of you to visit me. Do sit down." Not only was his -Russian good; his voice was a good imitation of Pashkov's voice. - -"You're not really sick?" Pashkov asked, sitting down on the bed. - -"Not physically. But imagine my psychological condition. When I look -in the mirror--" The colonel shuddered. - -"I hope your sacrifice won't be permanent?" Pashkov said. - -"That would be too much. How is my Russian? The truth, now." - -"Excellent. Put up your gun, Zubov. Colonel James and I don't get to -talk very often." - -"And a pity we don't. Good manners accomplish more than an opera full -of cloaks and daggers. Cigarette?" - -"Gratefully accepted," Zubov said, slipping his gun into its holster -with a flourish. - - * * * * * - -"Your treatment is over, then?" Pashkov asked. "You are ready for your -assignment?" - -"Ready." - -"And that is?" - -"Delicate, very delicate. I must report to the Palace this morning." - -"Shall I kidnap him now?" Zubov interrupted, puffing conceitedly on his -cigarette. - -"Mind your language, Zubov. May I ask, Colonel--do you want me to think -I am falling into a trap?" - -"No, no, my friend. I am only doing my best not to show my surprise at -seeing you again." The colonel got out of bed and sat down on Pashkov's -other side. - -"Zubov will make your trip to Moscow comfortable. All right, Zubov." - -Zubov focused his crossed eyes on Pashkov. - -"Take him straight to Petchareff," Colonel James said to Zubov. "I'll -report as soon as I know what these Swedes are up to." - -Zubov seized Pashkov by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards -the window. - -"Hold your claws, Zubov lad," Pashkov said. "You have got the wrong -man, can't you see? _That_ is Colonel James." - -"Eh?" - -"Use your eyes, blockhead. _I_ am Pashkov." - -Zubov did use his eyes. He looked from one to the other, and back. The -more he focused, the more his eyes crossed. "Eh?" - -Colonel James sat calmly on the bed. He said, "Carry him out." - -Zubov lifted Pashkov off the floor, crashed with his weight against the -wall, but held on, grinned and staggered with Pashkov in his arms to -the window. - -"You miserable idiot," Pashkov shouted. "You'll get a rest cure for -this!" - -Zubov dropped him, pulled his gun and backed off into a corner. "How -can I tell you two apart just by looking!" he cried hysterically. "I'm -not a learned man." - -"One small but decisive proof," Pashkov said, unbuttoning his hospital -gown. "I have a mole." - -Zubov yanked the colonel up by an arm. "Send _me_ to rest cures, will -you?" - -Colonel James sighed. "I guess we have to keep up appearances," he -muttered, and climbed out the window into the hovering ambulance. Zubov -leaped in after, and they were off. - - * * * * * - -The suit of clothes hanging in the closet might have been Pashkov's -own, identical with the clothes Kolya had taken to Moscow not an hour -before. Even the underwear had facsimiles of the Order of Lenin sewn in. - -Satisfied, he crawled into the bed and fell into a pleasant snooze. - -He was awakened by the nurse, Anastina Bjorklund--alias Anastasia -Semionovna Bezumnaya, formerly of the Stakhanovite Booster's Committee, -Moscow Third Worker's District. - -"Wonderful morning, Colonel James!" - -Petchareff seldom let one agent know what another was doing. - -She put a big breakfast tray on Pashkov's lap. "Cloudy, damp, and -windy. London stock market caves in, race riots in South Africa, famine -in India, earthquake in Japan, floods in the United States, general -strike in France, new crisis in Berlin. I ask you, what more can an -idealist want?" - -"Good morning, Miss Bjorklund." - -The breakfast tray was crammed with a liter of orange juice, four -boiled eggs, six slices of bacon, four pancakes, two pork chops, four -slices of toast, a tumbler of vodka, a pot of coffee and two cigars. - -"Ah, Colonel," Anastina said as Pashkov fell to, "why did you let them -change your face? It does not become you at all." - -"Part of my job. Don't you think I am more handsome now?" - -Anastina laughed shrilly. "That bulbous nose handsome? What woman could -fall in love with a nose like that?" - -"It shows determination. I wish I had this nose permanently." - -"You mustn't talk like that. But I'll ignore your nose if you tell me -more about White Sands Proving Grounds, as you promised." - -"With pleasure, with pleasure," he said, sinking his teeth into a pork -chop, having seasoned the chop with the soft-boiled egg yolk. "But -right now I'm in a hurry to get to the Palace. Give my shoes an extra -shine, there's a good girl." - -"Oh, you and your secrets!" - -An hour later, Pashkov landed on the Palace roof in Colonel James' -flier--an exact copy of his own flier. The Palace roof captain stared -at him, then smiled nervously. - -"They are waiting for you in the Gustavus room, Colonel." - -"Colonel? Do I still look like Colonel James?" - -"Oh, no, sir." - -"Do I talk like Colonel James?" - -"You've changed completely, sir. If I didn't know, I would swear you -were the notorious Gospodin Pashkov." - -"I am Gospodin Pashkov now, Captain. To everybody." - -"Of course, sir. I'll ring down you are coming." - -Pashkov glanced at his watch. Colonel James would be landing in Moscow -about now and taken to Comrade Petchareff for questioning. - -A manservant in velvet cutaways, patent leather shoes and white gloves, -escorted Pashkov through rooms hung with chandeliers, tapestries, -paintings. Pashkov entered the last room and stopped as the door -clicked shut behind him. - - * * * * * - -In the room were three men, all of whom he recognized: Professor -Kristin of the Swedish Academy, a white-haired old man with a kind, -intelligent face; the king, Gustavus IX, a thin old man stroking his -Vandyke, sitting under a portrait of Frederick the Great; and Monsieur -Fanti, the make-up surgeon. - -Pashkov bowed his head. "Your majesty. Gentlemen." - -"Extraordinary!" Professor Kristin said. - -Pashkov turned to the surgeon. "Monsieur, should my face have such a -frivolous expression?" - -M. Fanti raised his eyebrows, but did not answer. - -"I thought," said Pashkov, "that Gospodin Pashkov's face has a more -brutal look." - -"Propaganda," said the artist. But he came closer and looked at -Pashkov's face with sudden interest. - -Professor Kristin said, "Colonel James, we presume you have studied -the problem in detail. I'm afraid we have delayed announcing the Nobel -prize for literature much too long. How soon can you bring Boris -Knackenpast to Stockholm?" - -So there it was: Boris Knackenpast a supreme success, as Pashkov had -suspected. It would be amusing to tell robotist Medvedev about it. - -"Delicate, very delicate," Pashkov said. "Everything depends on my not -running into Gospodin Pashkov." - -"We can't wait any longer," Professor Kristin said. "Fortunately, we -have an ally in the enemy camp. The robotist, Medvedev, is expecting -you at Knackenpast's villa." - -"Bad show," M. Fanti said suddenly. "No good. His left cheekbone is at -least four centimeters too high." - -The men looked at the surgeon, then at Pashkov. - -M. Fanti fingered Pashkov's cheekbone. "How could I have made such a -mistake! Just look at him. People laugh at such faces." - -"How much time to correct the error then, Monsieur Fanti?" the king -asked. - -"A week at least. His skin needs a rest. I must rework the whole left -side of his face--it's all lopsided." - -"But we can't spare a week," Professor Kristin said. - -"With your majesty's permission," Pashkov offered, "I am willing to go -as I am. Indeed, my plans call for immediate departure." - -"It is a good thing you do for us, Colonel James," Gustavus IX said, -"and a courageous thing. Please accept our thanks." - -Professor Kristin saw Pashkov to the door. "One suggestion, Colonel. -Your r's are still too soft for a real Russian. Why do you Americans -slur them like that? And I beg you, if you value your life, do not fail -to watch your fricatives." - - * * * * * - -The roof captain saluted as Pashkov stepped out of the lift. His flier -was serviced and ready. - -"What weather in Moscow, Captain?" - -"Ceiling four thousand. We're having patrols half way out to sea. They -are instructed to let you pass." - -A small incident, the roof captain explained. A Swedish Red Cross flier -was missing from the National Hospital. Two Cuban agents had been -arrested and a cache of small arms and ammunition was found. But no -trace of the ambulance. - -"I suppose the Cubans deny stealing the ambulance?" Pashkov asked. - -"They say they've been framed by a fat little Russian. But it's -transparent, a clumsy job. Imagine, they left a stolen car in the -ambulance court and in it an invoice for six cases of ammunition. It -was traced to the Cubans in half an hour." - -Pashkov climbed into his flier. "Well, it's fashionable to blame the -Russians for everything." He waved his chubby hand, and took off. -Flying over the Baltic, he set the controls on the Moscow beam. - -Ten minutes west of Moscow he tuned the communicator in on Petchareff's -office. - -"Seven One Three here, Nadezhda. Tell Petchareff--no, let me talk to -him." - -"Seven One ... but that's impossible! Gospodin Pashkov is in conference -with Comrade Petchareff." - -"Stupid!" Petchareff's voice sounded behind Nadezhda's, and the speaker -clicked and went dead. - -Pashkov dove into the clouds and brought his flier to a hovering stop. - -Petchareff did not believe he was Pashkov. Colonel James, it was clear, -was at that moment in Petchareff's office, impersonating Pashkov. And -Zubov was probably getting a rest cure. - -Pashkov crawled out of the cloud and skimmed northeast to Mir, Boris -Knackenpast's villa. - -"You came fast, sir," the lieutenant of guards welcomed him at Mir. "We -did not expect you for another fifteen minutes." - -Fifteen minutes. The colonel was not wasting time. - -"Listen carefully, lieutenant." Pashkov described the American agent. -"But his left cheekbone is lower than mine--about four centimeters. He -may be armed, so be careful." - -The lieutenant stared. "Shall we kill him?" - -"No, no. Put him in a cage." - -As Pashkov ran up the steps to the villa, the curtain in the vestibule -window stirred. But when he entered, the vestibule was empty. - -He looked in the dining room, the music room, the library. Nobody. -The house was strangely quiet. He came to the door of the study and -listened. Not a sound. He went in and there, behind the large writing -desk, sat Boris Knackenpast. - -The robot was unscrewing screws imbedded in his neck. - -"My God, sir," said Pashkov, "what are you doing?" - - * * * * * - -The robot's eyes, large disks of glittering mirror, flashed as he -looked up. "Ah, Colonel James," Boris said in a voice that seemed to -come from a deep well. "Excuse the poor welcome, but I understand we -have little time. You scared my valet; he thought you were Gospodin -Pashkov." - -The door burst open and Medvedev rushed in, the old valet at his heels. -Medvedev stopped, gaped, then seized Pashkov's hand. "Colonel James! -What an artist, that Monsieur Fanti. But quick, Boris, Pashkov is on -his way." - -Boris pulled off his head, and crawled out of the robot shell. Pashkov -saw Boris as he really was, a tall human with a gaunt, ascetic face. - -The sad thing about us, thought Pashkov, is that Medvedev could not -trust even me. But then I could not trust Medvedev, either. Yes, that's -the trouble with us. - -"I hope you need no luggage, Mister Knackenpast," Pashkov said. "We -must be off at once." - -"Too late!" the old valet said from the window. - -Colonel James had landed. But as he climbed down from his flier, the -guards closed a circle about him. - -"He'll keep," Pashkov said, hitching up his pants. "Let's be off, -Mister Knackenpast. It won't take long for Petchareff to smell us out." - -"Look!" - -The guards fell back from the flier and snapped to attention. Chewing -on his cigar furiously, out stepped Petchareff. - -Zubov leaped out next, his big front tooth flashing. Then his two -assistants, Petya and Kolya, tumbled out in their coats and hats. Last -of all to emerge from the flier was Nadezhda Brunhildova. - -"Pretend not to know me, will he?" she yelled at Colonel James, picking -up a rock. - -"Hold it, citizenress," Colonel James said. - -"Citizenress, is it?" The rock flew over his head and felled Zubov. - -"I warned you both, no kitchen squabbles while on duty," Petchareff -roared. He snapped an order to the lieutenants of guards, and the -guards surrounded the house. - -"No alarm, no alarm," Pashkov said, pulling Boris away from the window. -"Mister Knackenpast, when you see your way clear to my flier, run for -it. But get back into your robot costume." - -"I can't operate the machine." - -"I'll be right behind you. The rest of us will go out to Petchareff." - -As they came out, Petchareff was reviving Zubov by slapping his face. -The kidnaping expert lay stretched cold on the ground, and Nadezhda -Brunhildova stood by, holding the rock and weeping. - -Colonel James said, "There he is, the American spy." - -Petchareff looked up as Pashkov was led forward by the guards. "Not -bad," Petchareff said. "We could use Monsieur Fanti. What's his price?" - -"Don't you know me, chief? Me, Pashkov." - -"Curse me," Nadezhda said, staring at him. "Another Pashkov." - -A terrible howl came from Zubov. Petya and Kolya, imitating -Petchareff's efforts to revive their master, were battering Zubov's -face with their slouched hats. - -"Stand back!" Kolya screamed, smashing his hat into Zubov's face. "He -is trying to say something!" - -"He's moving!" Petya kicked Zubov and looked up for approval, his hair -standing up like spikes. - -Petchareff slapped Kolya's face and crushed the glowing end of his -cigar on Petya's forehead. The apes reeled back to a tree. - - * * * * * - -Pashkov whispered to Colonel James. - -"Capitalist hell and damnation, now I can't tell them apart myself," -Petchareff said. "Zubov!" - -"Hhng?" - -"Which one's the real Pashkov?" - -"Hhng?" - -But Colonel James was running to the flier, throwing Nadezhda's rock at -Petchareff and running. - -"Grenade!" Pashkov yelled, and flung himself to the ground. - -At the same moment Boris Knackenpast ran from the house to the flier, -his robot gear clattering like Don Quixote's armor. - -The guards scattered and dove for cover. - -"Down, lads! Grenade!" Pashkov yelled. - -The two apes took up the cry, "Grenade, grenade!" and flattened -themselves behind the tree. - -Nadezhda and Medvedev collided, digging in behind the valet. - -Only Petchareff remained standing. "Stop the robot!" - -Nobody moved. - -Boris reached the flier, Colonel James pulled him in, the engine -hummed, and they were off. A moment later the flier vanished in the -clouds towards Stockholm. - -Petchareff relit his cigar. "Tfui, tastes of monkey hair." - -Medvedev shambled over. "Was the grenade a dud?" - -"One of these days I'll catch you, Pashkov," Petchareff spat. "Your -deviousness, that's one thing. It could be useful. But your levity--" - -"Darling!" Nadezhda threw on Pashkov. - -"Not in public," Pashkov said. - -"Wait a minute," Petchareff said. "Nadezhda Brunhildova, how do you -know he really is Pashkov? If he's actually Colonel James, I can shoot -him summarily. He _does_ look like Colonel James to me." - -"But if you're mistaken?" Medvedev put in nervously. - -"We all make mistakes," Petchareff said. "What would history be without -mistakes?" - -"I don't trust him either," Nadezhda said. "But I know my Pashkov. If -he's not Pashkov, I shall let you know in the morning." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cool War, by Andrew Fetler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COOL WAR *** - -***** This file should be named 51256-8.txt or 51256-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/5/51256/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Cool War - -Author: Andrew Fetler - -Release Date: February 21, 2016 [EBook #51256] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COOL WAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="394" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>THE COOL WAR</h1> - -<p>by ANDREW FETLER</p> - -<p>Illustrated by NODEL</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction June 1963.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>Here's what happens when two Master<br /> -Spies tangle ... and stay that way!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Nothing, nothing to get upset about," Pashkov said soothingly, taking -his friend's arm as they came out of the villa forty miles from Moscow. -Pashkov looked like a roly-poly zoo attendant leading a tame bear. -"Erase his memory, give him a new name and feed him more patriotism. -Very simple."</p> - -<p>Medvedev raised his hand threateningly. "Don't come howling to me if -everybody guesses he is nothing but a robot."</p> - -<p>Pashkov glanced back at the house. Since the publication of <i>Dentist -Amigovitch</i>, this house had become known all over the world as Boris -Knackenpast's villa. Now the house was guarded by a company of -soldiers to keep visitors out. From an open window Pashkov heard the -clicking of a typewriter.</p> - -<p>"It's when they're not like robots that everybody suspects them," he -said, climbing into his flier. "Petchareff will send you word when to -announce his 'death'."</p> - -<p>"A question, brother."</p> - -<p>"No questions."</p> - -<p>"Who smuggled the manuscript out of Russia?"</p> - -<p>Pashkov frowned convincingly. "Comrade Petchareff has suspected even -me."</p> - -<p>He took off for Moscow, poking his flier up through the clouds and -flying close to them, as was his habit. Then he switched on the radio -and got Petchareff's secretary. "Nadezhda?"</p> - -<p>"I know what you're up to, Seven One Three," Nadezhda Brunhildova said. -"Don't try to fool <i>me</i>, you confidence man. You are coming in?"</p> - -<p>"In ten minutes. What have I done now?"</p> - -<p>"You were supposed to make funeral arrangements for Knackenpast, so -what are you doing in Stockholm?"</p> - -<p>"Stockholm?"</p> - -<p>"You're lying and I'll kill you. Don't you think I know about Anastina, -that she-nurse in the Stockholm National Hospital?"</p> - -<p>"Darling, why so cruel? Anastina is one of our contacts. Besides, she's -cross-eyed and buck-toothed."</p> - -<p>"Beast!" She switched him to Petchareff.</p> - -<p>"What's been keeping you, Pashkov?"</p> - -<p>"Consoling Medvedev. Am I supposed to be in Stockholm?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind, get here at once. What size hospital gown do you wear?"</p> - -<p>"Hospital gown?"</p> - -<p>"Stockholm embassy says you're in the National Hospital there. In a -hospital gown. I got through to Anastina. She says it's Colonel James -again. He looks like you now."</p> - -<p>Pashkov grunted.</p> - -<p>"I'll never understand," said Petchareff, "why all top secret agents -have to look like bankers. Anastina says Colonel James was operated on -by a Monsieur Fanti. What do you know about him?"</p> - -<p>"He's a theatrical surgeon."</p> - -<p>"You're not playing one of your jokes, Pashkov?"</p> - -<p>"Hardly."</p> - -<p>"You'd better be in my office in ten minutes. What size hospital gown?"</p> - -<p>"Short and fat," Pashkov said, and switched off.</p> - -<p>Most countries wanted to break his neck, and his own Motherland did not -always trust him. But he enjoyed his work—enjoyed it as much as his -closest professional rival, Colonel James, U.S.A.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Pashkov landed on the roof of Intelligence in the northeast corner of -the Kremlin, hitched up his pants and rode down.</p> - -<p>In his office, Petchareff removed the cigar from his mouth as Pashkov -came in. "Medvedev get my orders?"</p> - -<p>"He's preparing a new super-patriotic writer to replace Boris -Knackenpast," Pashkov reported. "When you give the word, he will call -<i>Izvestia</i> and tell them Boris is dead."</p> - -<p>Petchareff glanced at his calendar. "We have two other state funerals -this week. You made it plain, I hope, we want no repetition of -Knackenpast's peace nonsense?"</p> - -<p>"No more Gandhi or Schweitzer influences. The new literature," Pashkov -promised, raising a chubby finger, "will be a pearl necklace of -government slogans."</p> - -<p>Nadezhda buzzed the intercom. "The man from the Bolshoi Theater is -here, Comrade."</p> - -<p>"Send him in."</p> - -<p>A small man hurried into the room. He had a narrow face and the -mustache of a mouse and a mousy nose, but his eyes were big rabbit -eyes. He bowed twice quickly, placed a package on the desk with -trembling forepaws and bowed twice again.</p> - -<p>Petchareff tore open the package. "You got the real thing? No bad -imitation?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly, exactly," the mouse piped. "No difference, Comrade." He held -his paws as in prayer and his pointed mouth quivered.</p> - -<p>Petchareff held up the hospital gown. On the back of the gown was -printed in indelible ink:</p> - -<p class="ph4">stockholm national hospital<br /> -courtesy of<br /> -Coca-Cola</p> - -<p>Petchareff tossed the gown to Pashkov. "This is what Colonel James is -wearing," he said, dismissing the mouse, who bowed twice and scurried -out.</p> - -<p>"Try and split the allies," Pashkov muttered, reading the legend on the -gown.</p> - -<p>Petchareff blew cigar smoke in his face. "If Colonel James makes a -monkey of you once more, you're through, Pashkov. You don't take your -job seriously enough. You bungle this and I'll have you transferred to -our Cultural Information Center in Chicago."</p> - -<p>Pashkov winced.</p> - -<p>"Now, you'll go to Stockholm and switch places with the American -colonel and find out what they're up to. Zubov's kidnaping team is -there already, at Hotel Reisen. Any questions?"</p> - -<p>"I thought Zubov was a zoological warfare expert. What is he doing with -a kidnaping team?"</p> - -<p>"His team is more agile. On your way."</p> - -<p>In the front office, Pashkov stopped to kiss Nadezhda Brunhildova -goodby. "I may not return from this dangerous mission. Give me a tender -kiss."</p> - -<p>Nadezhda was a big girl with hefty arms, captain of her local broom -brigade. "Monster!" She seized him by the collar. "Is Anastina -dangerous?"</p> - -<p>"Darling!"</p> - -<p>"Bitter sweetness!" she howled, dropping him. "Go, love. Make me -miserable."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Pashkov spent an hour at Central Intelligence. Nothing unusual going on -in Stockholm: an industrial exhibit, the Swedish Academy in session, -a sociology seminar on prison reform, a forty-man trade mission from -India.</p> - -<p>An addendum to the Stockholm file listed two Cuban agents operating -from Fralsningsarmen's Economy Lodgings. They were buying small arms -and ammunition. He thought a moment, impressed the Cubans' address on -his memory, and went to his flier.</p> - -<p>He did not fly to Hotel Reisen at once. Zubov's kidnaping team could -wait. Coming slowly over Stockholm he spotted the National Hospital and -circled.</p> - -<p>A line of ambulance fliers was parked on the ground in the ambulance -court. On the hospital roof, he noticed, apart from private fliers, -stood a flier that resembled his own.</p> - -<p>He veered away, detoured around Riddarholmen, and five minutes later -landed on the roof of Fralsningsarmen's Economy Lodgings—the Salvation -Army flophouse.</p> - -<p>"My Cuban friends," Pashkov inquired in fluent English at the desk on -the top floor. "Are they in?"</p> - -<p>The old desk clerk looked like a stork. "Yu, room six fifteen," he -clacked. "Tree floors down. Aer yu Amerikan?"</p> - -<p>"Brazil."</p> - -<p>"Ah so? You sprikker goot Inglish laik me."</p> - -<p>"Very kind of you."</p> - -<p>He rode down three floors, found room 615, and stopped as he heard -voices within.</p> - -<p>"... <i>dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete</i>. By seven o'clock tonight, -okay, Gringo?"</p> - -<p>"What do you expect for seven thousand bucks—service? Look, boys, I'm -just a honest businessman. I can't get it for you today. Have a seegar, -Pablo."</p> - -<p>"Tfu!"</p> - -<p>"All rightie, your cause is my cause. Maybe I can get it for you -tonight. But you'll have to pay in advance. What do you say, Francisco?"</p> - -<p>"I counted the money. It is waiting for you. You deliver, we pay."</p> - -<p>"But how can I trust you? I like you boys, I know you like me, but -business is business. I gotta give something to my jobber, don't I?"</p> - -<p>"Gringo!"</p> - -<p>At that moment Pashkov knocked on the door.</p> - -<p>From within: "Shh! <i>Alguien llama a la puerta.</i>"</p> - -<p>Pashkov knocked again and a scuffle ensued within, the crack of a chair -on a skull, the dragging of a beefy body into a closet, and the slam -of the closet door.</p> - -<p>"<i>Yu?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Buenas tardes</i>," Pashkov said through the door. "<i>Asuntos muy -importantes.</i>"</p> - -<p>The door opened a crack and two dark eyes in a young bearded face -peered out. "Eh?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Gospodin Pashkov, para servir a usted.</i>"</p> - -<p>The door opened enough to admit the roly-poly visitor into the room. -The other Cuban, also bearded and wearing a fatigue cap, held a -revolver.</p> - -<p>"No gun-play, caballeros," Pashkov went on in Spanish. "We are in the -Salvation Army charity house, not in a two-peso thriller. Besides, I -deliver before I ask payment."</p> - -<p>"Deliver what, senor?"</p> - -<p>"We favor any disturbance close to the United States. May I sit down?"</p> - -<p>Between two beds were stacked some dozen crates of explosives. A small -table was littered with papers.</p> - -<p>Sitting down at the table, Pashkov's elbow rested on an invoice, and -moments later the invoice was tucked in his pocket.</p> - -<p>"What kind of ammunition do you need, caballeros?"</p> - -<p>The Cubans looked at each other. "Thirty-o-six caliber, two-twenty -grain. How much can you deliver?"</p> - -<p>"Two thousand rounds."</p> - -<p>"Not much."</p> - -<p>"Maybe three thousand. I'll toss in a box of hand grenades and a can of -lysergic acid diethylamide."</p> - -<p>"You have that? You have LSD-25?"</p> - -<p>"I have that. When are you leaving Stockholm?"</p> - -<p>Again the young beards exchanged looks. "Maybe we stay till tomorrow -if you have more business. Three thousand rounds is not much. How much -payment, senor?"</p> - -<p>"Two thousand kronor," Pashkov said, taking an envelope on the table -and addressing it to Nadezhda Brunhildova, Kremlin, Moscow. No return -address.</p> - -<p>"Do you trust us to send the money?"</p> - -<p>"It is bad for you if I do not trust you," Pashkov said, smiling up at -them.</p> - -<p>"You can trust us. We shall send the money. Please take a cigar."</p> - -<p>Pashkov took four Havanas from the box they held out to him, stuck -three in his breast pocket, and lit one.</p> - -<p>"You come again, senor. We make much business."</p> - -<p>"Why not? Help retire Latin-American dictators to Siberia. More gold in -Siberia than in Las Vegas."</p> - -<p>"Hyi, hyi, that is funny. You come again."</p> - -<p>On his way up to the roof, Pashkov studied the invoice he had lifted. -It was from a manufacturer of sporting arms to Francisco Jesus Maria -Gonzales, Salvation Army Economy Lodgings. He tucked the invoice into -his inner pocket with a satisfied grunt, climbed into his flier and -hopped over to Hotel Reisen, where Zubov's kidnaping team was waiting -for him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Comrade Zubov, the kidnaping expert, was pacing the roof of Hotel -Reisen. As Pashkov eased down in his flier, Zubov's big front tooth -flashed with delight. Pashkov felt like tossing him a bone.</p> - -<p>"Everything in order, Gospodin Pashkov. Constant vigilance maintained -at hospital by my two assistants. With your pardon, Comrade Petchareff -urges all haste. Colonel James is due to leave the hospital tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"Comrade Petchareff always urges haste. What else?"</p> - -<p>Zubov's big tooth settled respectfully over his lower lip. His small -eyes were so closely set that he looked cockeyed when he focused them -on his superior.</p> - -<p>"With your pardon, I shall conduct you to our suite. Plans for -kidnaping of Colonel James all ready."</p> - -<p>"Here's a cigar for you."</p> - -<p>"Gratefully accepted. Reduced unavoidable fatalities to six." Zubov -counted on his long hard fingers. "Two watchmen, three nurses, one -doctor."</p> - -<p>In the hotel corridor, Zubov looked before and after, his eyes crossed -suspiciously, and peered around corners. They got to their suite -without incident, and Pashkov gave him another cigar.</p> - -<p>"Gratefully accepted. Here is a map of hospital and grounds. Here is a -map of twenty-third floor. Here is a map of Colonel James' room. Here -is hospital routine between midnight and dawn. With your pardon—"</p> - -<p>Pashkov picked up the phone, dialed the Soviet embassy, and got the -chargé d'affaires. "How is your underdeveloped countries fund?" he -asked.</p> - -<p>"Always depleted, always replenished."</p> - -<p>"I don't want any Russian brands."</p> - -<p>"Nothing but foreign," the chargé buzzed. "We got almost everything now -through an American surplus outlet in Hamburg. Nationals get caught -with American goods, Americans get blamed. Wonderful confusion. What do -you need?"</p> - -<p>"Thirty-o-six two-twenty, three thousand—if you have it."</p> - -<p>"Most popular. What else?"</p> - -<p>"Pineapples—one crate."</p> - -<p>"Only confiscated German potatoes. Will that do?"</p> - -<p>"Fine. And a small can of sentimental caviar."</p> - -<p>"Too risky."</p> - -<p>"It's all right. It will fall to local authorities by tomorrow."</p> - -<p>Pashkov put down the receiver. Give the Cubans enough to expect -more—make sure they stay in town.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Zubov was cross-checking his kidnaping plans. He said, "With your -pardon, do we take Colonel James alive or dead-or-alive?"</p> - -<p>"Alive."</p> - -<p>Zubov pulled a long face. "Dead-or-alive would be easier, Gospodin -Pashkov. Fast, clean job."</p> - -<p>Pashkov squinted at Zubov's crossed eyes. "Have you had your eyes -examined lately?"</p> - -<p>"No need," Zubov assured him with a smile. "I see more than most -people."</p> - -<p>Pashkov held up his remaining cigar. "How many cigars in my hand?"</p> - -<p>"Two."</p> - -<p>At that moment the door opened and Zubov's kidnaping team lumbered -in. They were a couple of big apes dressed in blue canvas shoes, red -trousers, yellow jackets, white silk scarves, sport caps and sun -glasses.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing here?" cried Zubov. "Why aren't you observing the -hospital?"</p> - -<p>"Dhh, you said to report ... um ... if something happened," the first -ape said in a thick voice.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Victim's room lights out," the ape said.</p> - -<p>"My assistants," Zubov introduced them to Pashkov. "Line up, line up, -lads. With your pardon, they are good lads. This is Petya, and this is -Kolya. No, <i>this</i> is Kolya and this one is Petya."</p> - -<p>"Twins?"</p> - -<p>"Not exactly. Same genetic experiment. Good lads. Stand straight, -Petya. Don't curl your feet like that, Kolya, I've told you before. Why -didn't you shave your hands today?"</p> - -<p>Kolya looked guiltily at his hands.</p> - -<p>"They've made progress," Zubov assured Pashkov, pulling a small whip -from his hip pocket. "Straight, lads, straight," he flicked the whip. -"We have company."</p> - -<p>"Are their costumes your own idea?"</p> - -<p>"With your pardon, for purposes of concealment. What are your orders?"</p> - -<p>Pashkov told them to pick up the boxes of ammunition at the embassy and -deliver them to the Cubans, and then to commandeer a private automobile.</p> - -<p>"We have autos at the embassy pool," Zubov suggested.</p> - -<p>"I want a vehicle off the street. Then report back here with your -lads."</p> - -<p>Petya gave Kolya a box on the ear.</p> - -<p>"Boys, boys!" Zubov cracked the whip. "Out you go. A job for Gospodin -Pashkov, lads. They don't get enough exercise," he grinned, backing out -after them. "With your pardon, I'll thrash them later."</p> - -<p>And they were gone. Pashkov turned to the hospital maps and studied -them before taking a nap.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Shortly before dawn, Zubov's team returned, their mission accomplished.</p> - -<p>"With your pardon, an excellent Mercedes," Zubov reported.</p> - -<p>Pashkov had changed into the hospital gown with the Coca-Cola legend on -the back. He glanced at his watch. It was four o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>He tossed his bundle of clothing to the first ape. "Take my flier back -to Moscow, Kolya lad. Give my clothes to Nadezhda Brunhildova, and tell -Comrade Petchareff to expect Colonel James today."</p> - -<p>Clutching the bundle, Kolya stuck his tongue out at Petya and bounded -out of the room. They waited at the window until they saw Kolya take -off in Pashkov's flier. Then they made their way down the service -stairs to the alley, Pashkov dressed only in the hospital gown; got -into the stolen Mercedes and drove to the National Hospital, all three -leaning forward.</p> - -<p>In the ambulance court, Zubov and Petya moved quickly to a Red Cross -flier. Pashkov dropped the invoice he had lifted from the Cubans on the -front seat of the stolen car, and followed.</p> - -<p>A watchman emerged from his hut, looked idly up at the rising -ambulance, and shuffled back to his morning coffee.</p> - -<p>As Petya brought the flier to a hovering stop against Colonel James' -window, Pashkov bounced into the room; Zubov drew his gun and jumped in -after.</p> - -<p>Colonel James awoke, turned on the night lamp, and sat up in the bed, -his eyes blinking.</p> - -<p>Pashkov stood looking at Colonel James. The resemblance between them -was remarkable. Zubov's eyes were crossed with astonishment.</p> - -<p>"My dear Gospodin Pashkov!" Colonel James greeted him in Russian, -yawning. "How kind of you to visit me. Do sit down." Not only was his -Russian good; his voice was a good imitation of Pashkov's voice.</p> - -<p>"You're not really sick?" Pashkov asked, sitting down on the bed.</p> - -<p>"Not physically. But imagine my psychological condition. When I look -in the mirror—" The colonel shuddered.</p> - -<p>"I hope your sacrifice won't be permanent?" Pashkov said.</p> - -<p>"That would be too much. How is my Russian? The truth, now."</p> - -<p>"Excellent. Put up your gun, Zubov. Colonel James and I don't get to -talk very often."</p> - -<p>"And a pity we don't. Good manners accomplish more than an opera full -of cloaks and daggers. Cigarette?"</p> - -<p>"Gratefully accepted," Zubov said, slipping his gun into its holster -with a flourish.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Your treatment is over, then?" Pashkov asked. "You are ready for your -assignment?"</p> - -<p>"Ready."</p> - -<p>"And that is?"</p> - -<p>"Delicate, very delicate. I must report to the Palace this morning."</p> - -<p>"Shall I kidnap him now?" Zubov interrupted, puffing conceitedly on his -cigarette.</p> - -<p>"Mind your language, Zubov. May I ask, Colonel—do you want me to think -I am falling into a trap?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, my friend. I am only doing my best not to show my surprise at -seeing you again." The colonel got out of bed and sat down on Pashkov's -other side.</p> - -<p>"Zubov will make your trip to Moscow comfortable. All right, Zubov."</p> - -<p>Zubov focused his crossed eyes on Pashkov.</p> - -<p>"Take him straight to Petchareff," Colonel James said to Zubov. "I'll -report as soon as I know what these Swedes are up to."</p> - -<p>Zubov seized Pashkov by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards -the window.</p> - -<p>"Hold your claws, Zubov lad," Pashkov said. "You have got the wrong -man, can't you see? <i>That</i> is Colonel James."</p> - -<p>"Eh?"</p> - -<p>"Use your eyes, blockhead. <i>I</i> am Pashkov."</p> - -<p>Zubov did use his eyes. He looked from one to the other, and back. The -more he focused, the more his eyes crossed. "Eh?"</p> - -<p>Colonel James sat calmly on the bed. He said, "Carry him out."</p> - -<p>Zubov lifted Pashkov off the floor, crashed with his weight against the -wall, but held on, grinned and staggered with Pashkov in his arms to -the window.</p> - -<p>"You miserable idiot," Pashkov shouted. "You'll get a rest cure for -this!"</p> - -<p>Zubov dropped him, pulled his gun and backed off into a corner. "How -can I tell you two apart just by looking!" he cried hysterically. "I'm -not a learned man."</p> - -<p>"One small but decisive proof," Pashkov said, unbuttoning his hospital -gown. "I have a mole."</p> - -<p>Zubov yanked the colonel up by an arm. "Send <i>me</i> to rest cures, will -you?"</p> - -<p>Colonel James sighed. "I guess we have to keep up appearances," he -muttered, and climbed out the window into the hovering ambulance. Zubov -leaped in after, and they were off.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The suit of clothes hanging in the closet might have been Pashkov's -own, identical with the clothes Kolya had taken to Moscow not an hour -before. Even the underwear had facsimiles of the Order of Lenin sewn in.</p> - -<p>Satisfied, he crawled into the bed and fell into a pleasant snooze.</p> - -<p>He was awakened by the nurse, Anastina Bjorklund—alias Anastasia -Semionovna Bezumnaya, formerly of the Stakhanovite Booster's Committee, -Moscow Third Worker's District.</p> - -<p>"Wonderful morning, Colonel James!"</p> - -<p>Petchareff seldom let one agent know what another was doing.</p> - -<p>She put a big breakfast tray on Pashkov's lap. "Cloudy, damp, and -windy. London stock market caves in, race riots in South Africa, famine -in India, earthquake in Japan, floods in the United States, general -strike in France, new crisis in Berlin. I ask you, what more can an -idealist want?"</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Miss Bjorklund."</p> - -<p>The breakfast tray was crammed with a liter of orange juice, four -boiled eggs, six slices of bacon, four pancakes, two pork chops, four -slices of toast, a tumbler of vodka, a pot of coffee and two cigars.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Colonel," Anastina said as Pashkov fell to, "why did you let them -change your face? It does not become you at all."</p> - -<p>"Part of my job. Don't you think I am more handsome now?"</p> - -<p>Anastina laughed shrilly. "That bulbous nose handsome? What woman could -fall in love with a nose like that?"</p> - -<p>"It shows determination. I wish I had this nose permanently."</p> - -<p>"You mustn't talk like that. But I'll ignore your nose if you tell me -more about White Sands Proving Grounds, as you promised."</p> - -<p>"With pleasure, with pleasure," he said, sinking his teeth into a pork -chop, having seasoned the chop with the soft-boiled egg yolk. "But -right now I'm in a hurry to get to the Palace. Give my shoes an extra -shine, there's a good girl."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you and your secrets!"</p> - -<p>An hour later, Pashkov landed on the Palace roof in Colonel James' -flier—an exact copy of his own flier. The Palace roof captain stared -at him, then smiled nervously.</p> - -<p>"They are waiting for you in the Gustavus room, Colonel."</p> - -<p>"Colonel? Do I still look like Colonel James?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, sir."</p> - -<p>"Do I talk like Colonel James?"</p> - -<p>"You've changed completely, sir. If I didn't know, I would swear you -were the notorious Gospodin Pashkov."</p> - -<p>"I am Gospodin Pashkov now, Captain. To everybody."</p> - -<p>"Of course, sir. I'll ring down you are coming."</p> - -<p>Pashkov glanced at his watch. Colonel James would be landing in Moscow -about now and taken to Comrade Petchareff for questioning.</p> - -<p>A manservant in velvet cutaways, patent leather shoes and white gloves, -escorted Pashkov through rooms hung with chandeliers, tapestries, -paintings. Pashkov entered the last room and stopped as the door -clicked shut behind him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the room were three men, all of whom he recognized: Professor -Kristin of the Swedish Academy, a white-haired old man with a kind, -intelligent face; the king, Gustavus IX, a thin old man stroking his -Vandyke, sitting under a portrait of Frederick the Great; and Monsieur -Fanti, the make-up surgeon.</p> - -<p>Pashkov bowed his head. "Your majesty. Gentlemen."</p> - -<p>"Extraordinary!" Professor Kristin said.</p> - -<p>Pashkov turned to the surgeon. "Monsieur, should my face have such a -frivolous expression?"</p> - -<p>M. Fanti raised his eyebrows, but did not answer.</p> - -<p>"I thought," said Pashkov, "that Gospodin Pashkov's face has a more -brutal look."</p> - -<p>"Propaganda," said the artist. But he came closer and looked at -Pashkov's face with sudden interest.</p> - -<p>Professor Kristin said, "Colonel James, we presume you have studied -the problem in detail. I'm afraid we have delayed announcing the Nobel -prize for literature much too long. How soon can you bring Boris -Knackenpast to Stockholm?"</p> - -<p>So there it was: Boris Knackenpast a supreme success, as Pashkov had -suspected. It would be amusing to tell robotist Medvedev about it.</p> - -<p>"Delicate, very delicate," Pashkov said. "Everything depends on my not -running into Gospodin Pashkov."</p> - -<p>"We can't wait any longer," Professor Kristin said. "Fortunately, we -have an ally in the enemy camp. The robotist, Medvedev, is expecting -you at Knackenpast's villa."</p> - -<p>"Bad show," M. Fanti said suddenly. "No good. His left cheekbone is at -least four centimeters too high."</p> - -<p>The men looked at the surgeon, then at Pashkov.</p> - -<p>M. Fanti fingered Pashkov's cheekbone. "How could I have made such a -mistake! Just look at him. People laugh at such faces."</p> - -<p>"How much time to correct the error then, Monsieur Fanti?" the king -asked.</p> - -<p>"A week at least. His skin needs a rest. I must rework the whole left -side of his face—it's all lopsided."</p> - -<p>"But we can't spare a week," Professor Kristin said.</p> - -<p>"With your majesty's permission," Pashkov offered, "I am willing to go -as I am. Indeed, my plans call for immediate departure."</p> - -<p>"It is a good thing you do for us, Colonel James," Gustavus IX said, -"and a courageous thing. Please accept our thanks."</p> - -<p>Professor Kristin saw Pashkov to the door. "One suggestion, Colonel. -Your r's are still too soft for a real Russian. Why do you Americans -slur them like that? And I beg you, if you value your life, do not fail -to watch your fricatives."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The roof captain saluted as Pashkov stepped out of the lift. His flier -was serviced and ready.</p> - -<p>"What weather in Moscow, Captain?"</p> - -<p>"Ceiling four thousand. We're having patrols half way out to sea. They -are instructed to let you pass."</p> - -<p>A small incident, the roof captain explained. A Swedish Red Cross flier -was missing from the National Hospital. Two Cuban agents had been -arrested and a cache of small arms and ammunition was found. But no -trace of the ambulance.</p> - -<p>"I suppose the Cubans deny stealing the ambulance?" Pashkov asked.</p> - -<p>"They say they've been framed by a fat little Russian. But it's -transparent, a clumsy job. Imagine, they left a stolen car in the -ambulance court and in it an invoice for six cases of ammunition. It -was traced to the Cubans in half an hour."</p> - -<p>Pashkov climbed into his flier. "Well, it's fashionable to blame the -Russians for everything." He waved his chubby hand, and took off. -Flying over the Baltic, he set the controls on the Moscow beam.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes west of Moscow he tuned the communicator in on Petchareff's -office.</p> - -<p>"Seven One Three here, Nadezhda. Tell Petchareff—no, let me talk to -him."</p> - -<p>"Seven One ... but that's impossible! Gospodin Pashkov is in conference -with Comrade Petchareff."</p> - -<p>"Stupid!" Petchareff's voice sounded behind Nadezhda's, and the speaker -clicked and went dead.</p> - -<p>Pashkov dove into the clouds and brought his flier to a hovering stop.</p> - -<p>Petchareff did not believe he was Pashkov. Colonel James, it was clear, -was at that moment in Petchareff's office, impersonating Pashkov. And -Zubov was probably getting a rest cure.</p> - -<p>Pashkov crawled out of the cloud and skimmed northeast to Mir, Boris -Knackenpast's villa.</p> - -<p>"You came fast, sir," the lieutenant of guards welcomed him at Mir. "We -did not expect you for another fifteen minutes."</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes. The colonel was not wasting time.</p> - -<p>"Listen carefully, lieutenant." Pashkov described the American agent. -"But his left cheekbone is lower than mine—about four centimeters. He -may be armed, so be careful."</p> - -<p>The lieutenant stared. "Shall we kill him?"</p> - -<p>"No, no. Put him in a cage."</p> - -<p>As Pashkov ran up the steps to the villa, the curtain in the vestibule -window stirred. But when he entered, the vestibule was empty.</p> - -<p>He looked in the dining room, the music room, the library. Nobody. -The house was strangely quiet. He came to the door of the study and -listened. Not a sound. He went in and there, behind the large writing -desk, sat Boris Knackenpast.</p> - -<p>The robot was unscrewing screws imbedded in his neck.</p> - -<p>"My God, sir," said Pashkov, "what are you doing?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The robot's eyes, large disks of glittering mirror, flashed as he -looked up. "Ah, Colonel James," Boris said in a voice that seemed to -come from a deep well. "Excuse the poor welcome, but I understand we -have little time. You scared my valet; he thought you were Gospodin -Pashkov."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="368" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The door burst open and Medvedev rushed in, the old valet at his heels. -Medvedev stopped, gaped, then seized Pashkov's hand. "Colonel James! -What an artist, that Monsieur Fanti. But quick, Boris, Pashkov is on -his way."</p> - -<p>Boris pulled off his head, and crawled out of the robot shell. Pashkov -saw Boris as he really was, a tall human with a gaunt, ascetic face.</p> - -<p>The sad thing about us, thought Pashkov, is that Medvedev could not -trust even me. But then I could not trust Medvedev, either. Yes, that's -the trouble with us.</p> - -<p>"I hope you need no luggage, Mister Knackenpast," Pashkov said. "We -must be off at once."</p> - -<p>"Too late!" the old valet said from the window.</p> - -<p>Colonel James had landed. But as he climbed down from his flier, the -guards closed a circle about him.</p> - -<p>"He'll keep," Pashkov said, hitching up his pants. "Let's be off, -Mister Knackenpast. It won't take long for Petchareff to smell us out."</p> - -<p>"Look!"</p> - -<p>The guards fell back from the flier and snapped to attention. Chewing -on his cigar furiously, out stepped Petchareff.</p> - -<p>Zubov leaped out next, his big front tooth flashing. Then his two -assistants, Petya and Kolya, tumbled out in their coats and hats. Last -of all to emerge from the flier was Nadezhda Brunhildova.</p> - -<p>"Pretend not to know me, will he?" she yelled at Colonel James, picking -up a rock.</p> - -<p>"Hold it, citizenress," Colonel James said.</p> - -<p>"Citizenress, is it?" The rock flew over his head and felled Zubov.</p> - -<p>"I warned you both, no kitchen squabbles while on duty," Petchareff -roared. He snapped an order to the lieutenants of guards, and the -guards surrounded the house.</p> - -<p>"No alarm, no alarm," Pashkov said, pulling Boris away from the window. -"Mister Knackenpast, when you see your way clear to my flier, run for -it. But get back into your robot costume."</p> - -<p>"I can't operate the machine."</p> - -<p>"I'll be right behind you. The rest of us will go out to Petchareff."</p> - -<p>As they came out, Petchareff was reviving Zubov by slapping his face. -The kidnaping expert lay stretched cold on the ground, and Nadezhda -Brunhildova stood by, holding the rock and weeping.</p> - -<p>Colonel James said, "There he is, the American spy."</p> - -<p>Petchareff looked up as Pashkov was led forward by the guards. "Not -bad," Petchareff said. "We could use Monsieur Fanti. What's his price?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know me, chief? Me, Pashkov."</p> - -<p>"Curse me," Nadezhda said, staring at him. "Another Pashkov."</p> - -<p>A terrible howl came from Zubov. Petya and Kolya, imitating -Petchareff's efforts to revive their master, were battering Zubov's -face with their slouched hats.</p> - -<p>"Stand back!" Kolya screamed, smashing his hat into Zubov's face. "He -is trying to say something!"</p> - -<p>"He's moving!" Petya kicked Zubov and looked up for approval, his hair -standing up like spikes.</p> - -<p>Petchareff slapped Kolya's face and crushed the glowing end of his -cigar on Petya's forehead. The apes reeled back to a tree.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Pashkov whispered to Colonel James.</p> - -<p>"Capitalist hell and damnation, now I can't tell them apart myself," -Petchareff said. "Zubov!"</p> - -<p>"Hhng?"</p> - -<p>"Which one's the real Pashkov?"</p> - -<p>"Hhng?"</p> - -<p>But Colonel James was running to the flier, throwing Nadezhda's rock at -Petchareff and running.</p> - -<p>"Grenade!" Pashkov yelled, and flung himself to the ground.</p> - -<p>At the same moment Boris Knackenpast ran from the house to the flier, -his robot gear clattering like Don Quixote's armor.</p> - -<p>The guards scattered and dove for cover.</p> - -<p>"Down, lads! Grenade!" Pashkov yelled.</p> - -<p>The two apes took up the cry, "Grenade, grenade!" and flattened -themselves behind the tree.</p> - -<p>Nadezhda and Medvedev collided, digging in behind the valet.</p> - -<p>Only Petchareff remained standing. "Stop the robot!"</p> - -<p>Nobody moved.</p> - -<p>Boris reached the flier, Colonel James pulled him in, the engine -hummed, and they were off. A moment later the flier vanished in the -clouds towards Stockholm.</p> - -<p>Petchareff relit his cigar. "Tfui, tastes of monkey hair."</p> - -<p>Medvedev shambled over. "Was the grenade a dud?"</p> - -<p>"One of these days I'll catch you, Pashkov," Petchareff spat. "Your -deviousness, that's one thing. It could be useful. But your levity—"</p> - -<p>"Darling!" Nadezhda threw on Pashkov.</p> - -<p>"Not in public," Pashkov said.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," Petchareff said. "Nadezhda Brunhildova, how do you -know he really is Pashkov? If he's actually Colonel James, I can shoot -him summarily. He <i>does</i> look like Colonel James to me."</p> - -<p>"But if you're mistaken?" Medvedev put in nervously.</p> - -<p>"We all make mistakes," Petchareff said. "What would history be without -mistakes?"</p> - -<p>"I don't trust him either," Nadezhda said. "But I know my Pashkov. If -he's not Pashkov, I shall let you know in the morning."</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cool War, by Andrew Fetler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COOL WAR *** - -***** This file should be named 51256-h.htm or 51256-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/5/51256/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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