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Read Ebook: A Cadet's Honor: Mark Mallory's Heroism by Sinclair Upton
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Ebook has 1473 lines and 53570 words, and 30 pages
THE COOL WAR
by ANDREW FETLER
Illustrated by NODEL
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."
"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?"
"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?"
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?"
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