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a very sophisticated bug in the office of the Kazakh party leader. And if people wonder how it got there—and that puts the Soviet consul general in Istanbul and his wife under a cloud—then we’ve accomplished a good day’s work.”

“That’s diabolical,” said Taylor.

“You flatter me. In any event, my friends, this is how I propose to terminate our piece of theater. In a few months, at an appropriate moment, we’ll find a way for the KGB to discover the bug in Alma-Ata. We’ll let them do the rest of the work for us, and sit back and watch the fun.”

“From a safe distance, I trust,” said Anna.

“Of course, my dear,” said Stone. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

That evening, Taylor made the slow passage down Wisconsin Avenue’s corridor of traffic lights in the white Karpetland van. He parked several blocks from Stone’s house and walked the rest of the way. When he reached the address he stopped and studied the house. It was an architectural equivalent of Stone himself: an elegant red brick building, four stories tall, built at least two hundred years ago but lovingly maintained, as if in defiance of the passage of time. Taylor peered inside the leaded-glass window. There was an elegant front parlor, decorated with antique furniture. Down the hall, in what looked to be the study, sat Stone in a leather easy chair. Taylor rang the bell, and up padded the old man.

“Do come in,” he said. He was wearing a cardigan sweater and smoking a cigar. He escorted Taylor back to his book-lined study, which overlooked a deep garden. When they were seated, Stone offered his guest a cigar, which Taylor eagerly accepted. It was a Davidoff No. 1, smuggled in by one of Stone’s legion of friends.

“Miss Barnes is a marvelous woman, isn’t she?” asked Stone as Taylor was lighting his cigar.

“Absolutely,” said Taylor. “Great kid.”

“And she’s doing extraordinarily well, wouldn’t you say, given how little real experience she’s had?”

“Yup. She’s hit the ground running.”

“Do you think she’s entirely comfortable with the operation? I wondered a bit, listening to some of her comments today.”

“She’s okay. She had a couple of problems, but once she got them off her chest, she seemed to lighten up. I wouldn’t worry about her. She’s a tough cookie. She’s not going to bail out on you now.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” said Stone. “Certainly she’s a strong-minded woman, with ideas of her own about how things should be done. But perhaps that’s all to the good.”

“All to the good, definitely,” agreed Taylor. What’s this all about? he was wondering. But Stone was, in his fashion, getting around to the point.

“What did you think about her plea for Christian-Moslem amity?”

“It’s harmless,” said Taylor. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It might even be a good idea.”

“One advantage is that it will keep her occupied, which will leave you free to do other things.”

Taylor cocked his head. “Such as?”

“How shall I put this? In managing this operation, Alan, you shouldn’t feel limited to the particular items that we discussed today.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Mr. Stone.”

“I mean you don’t have to limit yourself to the things that I sent over to Karpetland. The books and pamphlets and cassettes. You can try other things with Munzer as well, if you think it makes sense.”

“Like what?” Taylor suspected that Stone was about to open a new door in the inner chamber, but he hadn’t a clue where it led.

“The sky’s the limit, really. In putting together this imaginary underground network, you can use whatever materials a real underground would use.”

“Not just pamphlets and cassettes, but other things?”

“Yes, other things.”

Taylor finally began to understand. “Like guns,” he said.

“Yes. Like guns. And other things.”

“Explosives?”

“Yes, indeed, surely. That would be appropriate for an underground organization that wanted to have an impact in Central Asia.”

Taylor examined his nails for a moment, giving himself time to think. He was an impulsive man, but he wasn’t a fool. And he knew Stone was proposing something extraordinary, even by the standards of his inner circle.

“Sounds like you’re declaring war,” he said eventually.

“I’m turning up the heat,” replied Stone. “I’m tired of the Cold War, to tell you the truth. At this rate it’s going to last forever.”

Taylor studied Stone’s face. He knew enough about how the government worked to understand that this part of the operation wasn’t authorized by anybody, anywhere.

“What happens if we get caught?” he asked.

“A flap. But we won’t get caught.”

“Right. But suppose we do.”

“Trust me,” said Stone. “I have more friends in this city than any of the politicians. You won’t suffer for it, unless your greatest ambition in life is to become a GS-18 before you’re fifty. That I cannot promise you.”

Stone knew his man. Just as there are some adolescent boys who can never refuse a dare, no matter how foolhardy, there are some middle-aged men who would rather die than acknowledge they have reached that stage of life. And with Stone’s last remark, Taylor lost whatever remaining inhibitions he still had about the project. He leaned toward Stone.

“So how would we go about it, assuming it made sense?”

“You and Munzer could drop some hints in Istanbul that this Central Asian network isn’t just a bunch of religious fanatics, that it also has a military wing. And I would follow up from here.”

“Hot stuff.”

“Very hot,” agreed Stone.

“Who would do the shipping?”

“We’d handle some of it through Pakistan, have Frank Hoffman do the rest with this Ascari fellow. But it seemed to me, as we were talking today, that Miss Barnes might not feel entirely comfortable with this part of the operation.”

“So you’d like me to do it?”

“Yes. That’s right. I thought it might make sense for you to go see Frank in Athens, after he has met with Miss Barnes. Would that be possible?”

“I’d be screwing Anna. It’s her case.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Stone with a wink. “You’re getting used to that, aren’t you?”

Taylor was going to