Footfall by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle Read Free Book Online Page A

Provincial establishments, even KGB, did not often get new equipment.
    The reception officer ignored him as long as possible, then looked up insolently. “Yes?”
    You will be that way, will you? Bondarev thought. Very well. Bondarev spoke quietly, but loud enough so he was certain that the men at the next desk could overhear him. “I am Bondarev. I wish to see the duty officer.”
    The desk officer frowned. The man at the next desk ceased typing.
    “What is the nature of your business?”
    “If I had meant for you to know, I would have told you,” Bondarev said. “Now you will please inform the senior officer present that Academician Bondarev, Director of the Lenin Research Institute of Astrophysics and Cosmography, wishes to see him and that the matter is urgent.”
    The receptionist’s frown deepened, but his face lost the insolent look. A full Academician would have powerful friends, and the Institute was important in their provincial city. The officer who had been typing got up from the desk and came over. “Certainly, Comrade Academician,” he said. “I will go and tell Comrade Orlov at once.” He looked down sideways at the receptionist, then left.
    “I am required to ask,” the receptionist said. His voice was sullen.
    He has not long held his commission as an officer of the KGB, Bondarev thought. And he has rather enjoyed having everyone act respectful, even fearful. He did not expect to find someone to fear.
    “This way, Comrade Academician.” The other agent indicated a doorway.
    As Bondarev passed through, the receptionist was saying, “How should I know he was an Academician? He did not say so.” Bondarev smiled.
    The office was not large. The desk was cluttered. Bondarev did not recognize the officer at the desk, but he was certain he had seen him before.
    “Yes, Comrade Academician?”
    “I must use your scrambler telephone to call Moscow, Comrade Orlov. Party Third Secretary Narovchatov in the Kremlin. It is urgent. No one must listen. It is a matter of state security.”
    “If it is a matter of state security, we must record—”
    “Yes, but not to listen,” Bondarev said. “Comrade, believe me, you do not want to listen to this call.”
    It took nearly an hour to complete the call. Then General Narovchatov’s voice came on the line. “Pavel Aleksandrovich! It is good to hear from you.” The hearty gravel voice changed. “All is well?”
    “Da, Comrade General. Marina is well, your grandchildren are well.”
    “Ah. Another year, Pavel. Another year and you may return to Moscow. But hard as it is, you must stay there now. Your work is needed.”
    “I know,” Bondarev said. “Marina will be grateful that it is only one more year. That, however, is not why I have called.”
    “Then?”
    “I have called from the KGB station in order to use the scrambler telephone. The officer on duty is watching to see that no one listens. It is a matter of great importance, Nikolai Nikolayevich. The greatest importance.”
    General Nikolai Nikolayevich Narovchatov put down the telephone and carefully finished writing his notes in the leather-bound book on his desk. Once in Paris a wealthy lady had given him a score of the leather books, full of blank pages of excellent paper. That had been long ago, long enough that his baggage had been searched when he returned, and the border guards had wondered what sinister messages were written on the blank paper until the superiors he travelpd with had become impatient and the guards wordlessly passed him through. Each book lasted nearly a year, and now only two were left.
    He stared at his notes. Aliens. An alien spaceship was coming to Earth. Nonsense.
    But it is not nonsense, he thought. Pavel Bondarev would not have been my ideal of a son-in-law. I would have preferred that Marina marry a diplomat. Still, there is no questioning that the Academician is intelligent. Intelligent and cautious. He would not call if he were not certain. The Americans have