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have made my break, turned the tables, before we got back here. I considered doing it,
but then they mentioned a few things that left me undecided. If what they said was true,
then I didn't want to fuck things up. Apart from which and to be honest I didn't much
fancy the odds. Not with a gun in the small of my back.'
'They mentioned a few things?' Sparrow repeated him, frowning. 'About what?
What kind of things?'
'Hold your horses, Joe,' Angel answe red. 'Let's observe the priorities. Like first I
want my gun back. And the one with the mole has it.'
The mark that he'd mentioned a small dark mole on the jaw of one of the
strangers was for the moment about the only way the pair could be told apart. For it
was now apparent that they were in fact almost identical twins.
Angel approached the man in question, went to one knee and reached inside his
overcoat, came out with his Keramique. Next, he brought out a wallet and flipped it
open. Then, standing up, he said, 'Well, what do you know? At least part of their story is
true. Russian ID, and this one's called, er '
' Vladimir Androsov,' said the man with the mole, holding his arm awkwardly
and grimacing. Then, looking at Fletcher, he flinched and slowly added, 'Is very possible
you are dislocating my shoulder.'
'Don't worry about it,' Fletcher answered. 'I was a physio in my time and can
probably pop it back again. In fact, I might even enjoy it.' Switching his gaze to the other
twin, Fletcher jerked his head inquiringly and raised an angry red eyebrow.
'Ah, yes.' Androsov carefully, painfully stretched his neck, inclining his head to
look at his colleague. 'This is Venyamin, my brother. He is not speaking the English very
much. You will please excusing his quiet.'
'Listen, you,' said Angel, checking his weapon and cocking it, his voice a low
growl. 'Please excusing my impatience my quickly getting pissed off and tell my
friends here what you told me.'
Androsov nodded, grimaced again, and said, 'Very well. You are the British E-
Branch. We are from Russian E-Branch, Gustav Turchin's men. Our listening stations
are picking up the story about the Evening Star. We are on the same case. Turchin has
said that if we are meeting up with you, we are the allies and no longer the opposition.
So, Venyamin and me, we are locators. Twins, we magnify, we multiply each other's
skills. That is good, but when we apart we don't working so well. We following the trail to
this place, Sirpsindigi. Is not so difficult; we have the safe house in Bulgaria just across
the border. But when we are getting here the trail '
' Disappears!' said Fletcher, starting forward. And then, to Sparrow and Angel:
'These people are on the level.'
He moved to help Vladimir Androsov to his feet, but before he reached him Angel
said:
'Wait! So why the rough stuff? Why didn't they simply approach us, even try
giving us a call?'
'This is Turkey,' Androsov shrugged, and winced again. 'The telephones are
bugged because of the trouble with Greece. Also, the separatists and fifth columnists
are on the rise. Today the Turkish man trusts no one. You are lucky you got in. But
Turkey needs the tourist money. Ah, but if you are questioned, why are you in this filthy
Sirpsindigi? Why are you having the weapons? What troubles are you making? We
could not taking the chance to come to you in daylight, in the open.'
'But at night?' said Angel. 'To jump me out of an alley?'
Androsov tried to look apologetic. 'We are not field agents but locators. We are
finding nuclear submarines or tracking the USA's mobile ICBMs. But now this thing is
starting, Gustav Turchin's agenda has changed. He is saying that the whole world not
just Russia has the big troubles.' He looked at Fletcher. 'You are a locator, we know
that. Your shields are, well...' He let it tail off, and Bernie reddened.
'I glow in the dark, right? And that's how you found me.'
'No, because we looking for you,' said Androsov diplomatically. 'But your friends
are... what, the special policemen?' He shrank down into himself. 'We not KGB, not
trained in their techniques. We do not know how they will be receiving. So, how to
approaching? We do it like you see. A big mistakes.'
'Amateurs!' said Angel. 'So I was right.' And now he helped Androsov to his feet.
Bernie Fletcher had been looking the Russians over by no means a difficult
task, for in checking out one Androsov he got an image of both. Six-footers, they were
thin as rakes and angular in their features. Dark-haired, grey-eyed, and light-skinned to
the point of being pale, they would be in their mid thirties. They certainly didn't look
dangerous.
Office types, Fletcher concluded, desk-bound greenhorns who, much like
himself, had suddenly found themselves thrust out into the wider, far more sinister world
of the field agent. He found himself feeling sorry for them. At least he'd had a little
previous experience.
'Okay,' said Joe Sparrow. 'So what happens now? I mean, are we all on the
same side or what?'
'Yes,' Fletcher answered. 'And this could be the break I've been hoping for.
Working with these fellows, I might be able to pick up the trail again. A bonus for Trask
when he gets here.'
Meanwhile Angel was frisking the Androsov twins. Apart from the one gun he'd
picked up from the floor a Tokarev TT-33 they were clean. Examining the Tokarev,
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