Chapter 73 Chapter 72

Prevlov huddled up and sat on the floor of first-class cabin C-95.A SEAL standing guard in the hallway outside pulled the freshly oiled lock and opened the door when Prevlov glanced up.Holding an M-24 automatic rifle, the SEAL eyed Prevlov, then stepped back to let another man into the room. The man was carrying a briefcase and was wearing a wrinkled civilian suit that seemed to be in need of ironing. Prevlov looked at it thoughtfully, and when he recognized the man in surprise, a smile appeared on the corner of the man's mouth. "Colonel Prevlov, my name is Warren Nicholson."

"I know." Prevlov stood up and bowed slightly. "I didn't expect to meet the CIA director in person, at least not in such an awkward situation." "I will personally escort you to America." "It's an honor." "It should be us who should be honored, Colonel Prevlov. Having you is indeed our greatest achievement." "Then you will have an international public trial against our government for attempted plunder on the high seas." Nicholson smiled again: "No, except for a few senior officials of our two governments, I think your failure will be kept strictly confidential."

Prevlov narrowed his eyes. "Failure?" The word obviously caught him by surprise. Nicholson nodded without answering. "There's nothing you can do to make me admit defeat," said Prevlov firmly. "I'll deny it at the first chance." "Very noble gesture," said Nicholson with a shrug. "However, there will be no trial in the future, and there will be no trial, so applying for political asylum will be your only way out." "You said there was no interrogation. I have to think you're lying, Mr Nicholson. No intelligence service would take the opportunity to confide to them from someone in my position."

"What secret?" said Nicholson. "You can't say one thing we don't know." Prevlov was confused.Need analysis, he thought.He must analyze correctly.There was only one way for the American to gain access to the vast collection of Soviet intelligence secrets in his office files in Moscow.The central part of the mystery is still missing, but the rest of it fits perfectly.He looked into Nicholson's calm eyes and said calmly: "Captain Majanin is one of your people." His tone seemed to be describing an incident rather than mentioning the team. "Yes." Nicholson nodded. "His name is Harry Koskowski. He was born in Newark, New Jersey."

"Impossible," said Prevlov. "I personally examined every detail in the archives of Pavel Maganin. He grew up in Komsomolsk-on-Amur. His family was a tailor." "Yes, Makanin is really a Russian." "So, your people are substitutes, a trick to deceive people?" "This was arranged by us four years ago when one of your Kassin-class missile destroyers exploded and sank in the Indian Ocean. Maganin was one of the few survivors. He was found in the sea by an Exxon tanker , but he died just before the tanker docked in Honolulu. This is a rare opportunity, we have to arrange it quickly. Of all our Russian-speaking staff, Koskowski looks the most like Maganin. We use Surgery altered his appearance so that he looked blown up and disfigured, and he was flown to an off-course island two hundred miles from where your ship sank .When our fake Soviet sailor was finally discovered by local fishermen and sent back to Russia, he was delirious and suffering from severe amnesia."

"I know the rest," said Prevlov solemnly. "We not only repaired his face with plastic surgery to make him exactly like the real Magganin, but also retrained him to remind him of his past. .” "That's the icing on the cake." "A very well done job, Mr Nicholson." "That comes from one of the most respected men in Soviet intelligence, and I think it is indeed a rare compliment." "Then the whole plan to get me on the Titanic was devised by the CIA and executed by Maganin." "Koskowski, alias Majanin, you must agree to this plan, and you really did."

Prevlov kept his eyes on the deck.If only he had suspected that Majanin was skillfully lowering his neck slowly onto the scaffold, he could have imagined it, he could have guessed it.He should never have been taken in, but his vanity stumbled him, and he accepted the plan. "What is the end of this matter?" Prevlov asked sadly. "At this point Maganin has presented your - pardon me for using the word - irrefutable evidence of treason, together with some fabricated evidence, that you intended from the start to defeat the Titanic mission. You know, Colonel, that we spent nearly two years planning to bring you down. Your own profligacy helped us a great deal. Your superiors can only draw one conclusion about your conduct: you Sell ​​yourself at a high price."

"What if I deny it?" "Who would believe it? I dare say your name has long been on the Soviet purge list." "So what should I do now?" "You have two options. One is that we can release you after an appropriate period of time." "I won't survive a week. I know the KGB network well." "Your second option is to cooperate with us." Nicholson paused, hesitated, and then looked directly at Prevlov. "You are an outstanding talent, Colonel, among your peers." We don't want to bury talent. I don't have to hype your significant role to Western intelligence agencies. I therefore intend to put you in charge of a new task force. You will find that this job is very suitable for you."

"I guess I should be very grateful for that," said Prevlov dryly. "Your countenance will change, of course. You'll also have a foray into the Anglo-American dialect, and our history, sports, music, and entertainment. In the end there won't be a trace of what the KGB left on you." Interest began to show in Prevlov's eyes. "Your salary is $40,000 a year, plus activities and a car." "Forty thousand dollars?" Prevlov asked with feigned indifference. "That thread can buy a lot of wine." Nicholson grinned, like a wolf sitting down to dinner with a wary rabbit, "if you really try it, Colonel Prevlov, you Sure to enjoy the pleasures of our depraved life in the West. Don't you agree?"

Prevlov did not speak for a long time.The alternative paths are obvious; one of perpetual fear, one of long-term comfort: "You've won, Nicholson." Nicholson shook hands with him, and was a little surprised to see tears welling up in Prevlov's eyes.