Free The Martian Pendant by Patrick Taylor Page A

hesitation, he replied, “Sure thing, doll, there is just enough room for you. I’ll put in a request with the oil people to cover the extra expense so they’ll pay your salary as usual. Consider yourself onboard as my first assistant.”
    Diana didn’t sleep well that night, elated by the prospect of the dig, on the one hand, and her concerns about leaving California--and Danny, on the other hand. Without him, it would be tough.
    At that point, she had no idea of the forces that were being brought into play to follow her progress, and to steal whatever might be discovered. Intuitive as she was, there was only a vague, free-floating anxiety clouding her insights. She couldn't envision any problems, other than the usual academic conflicts over priority about discoveries, and the skepticism from non-participating scientific peers regarding the significance of any findings.

SEVEN
     
    Adversaries
     
    Moscow
    Nearly halfway around the world, Dragunov was aroused from a fitful sleep late that night by a phone call and summoned to the KGB headquarters in the Kremlin. Dressing hastily, he wondered why. Such an hour! Not a little fearful, he trembled as he fumbled for the buttons on cuffs of his shirtsleeves. After all, this hour, long after the routine work of the day was done, often was reserved for disciplining or even condemning those who were called. Well, he thought, the KGB was not the ruthless secret police of the Stalin era NKVD.  Still, he was extremely worried, as his own reputation was similar to other Stalinists, many who had already been purged in the “de-Stalinization” of the mid-fifties.
    As he was ushered into the KGB office, his fear was heightened by a possible confrontation with the ruthless Chief of the Secret Police himself. My God, he said to himself reflexively, immediately correcting himself, since he did not believe in God. Finding no politically correct expletive that would fit his emotion, he reverted, almost under his breath to an even more forceful, “God damn it!” What could the reason for this summons be?
    “Agent Dragunov?” The question seemed to come out of the darkness he perceived in the next room. In his concern, he sensed a sepulchral tone to it, mixed with the unctuous oiliness for which that wily official was known. Upon entering the room, he was surprised to find it actually well-lighted. His teeth still clenched in dread, he remarked to himself, in the habitual objectivity of a man of his stripe, how the senses can be duped by fear!
    The man at the desk looked up only momentarily. It was as if Dragunov's dossier and his passport photo were enough. He reminded himself that, after all his accomplishments, he was still only a number to the head of the dreaded KGB.
    “Dragunov, you may have heard rumors that I am being groomed for better things in the Party, in anticipation of Comrade Khrushchev’s promotion to Party Secretary, and that I will be handing my authority over to someone junior to me. You are among my foremost choices at this point, but I haven’t yet determined my successor.”
    Utterly relieved, the agent let out an audible sigh of relief, bringing a quick gesture of silence from the now-glowering Chief. Then the agent felt the full force of hostility from those ice-gray eyes.
    “But perhaps I was mistaken. You were represented to me as a particularly cool operative, but tonight I see only a frightened rabbit.”
    Regarding the now-impassive agent, his glare softened a little. “I’m pleased that you seem to appreciate the power that I wield, which tells me that you may yet live up to our expectations. I’ll get right to the point now. As a final test of your efficiency and potential for leadership, I’m assigning you to an extremely important and complex mission. It has to do with an American expedition to Tanganyika, in East Africa. Perhaps you have heard of it. Rumor has it that something monumental has been pinpointed by their geological satellite in the