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〃Know it？〃 cried Carlos； a tremor developing in his left hand。 〃I have its soul！ No secrets are kept from me； for I am the repository of all secrets！ I have volumes on governments everywhere； on their leaders； their generals； their highest officials…I have sources all over the world！〃
〃You don't have Rodchenko anymore；〃 continued the black…suited man from Military Supply； he； too； getting out of his chair。 〃And e to think of it； you weren't even surprised。〃
〃What？〃
〃For most of us； perhaps all of us； the first thing we do upon rising in the morning is to turn on our radios。 It's always the same foolishness and I suppose there's fort in that； but I'd guess most of us knew about Rodchenko's death。 。。。 But you didn't； priest； and when our television lady told you； you weren't astonished； you weren't shocked…as I say； you weren't even surprised。〃
〃Certainly I was！〃 shouted the Jackal。 〃What you don't understand is that I have extraordinary control。 It's why I'm trusted； needed by the leaders of world Marxism！〃
〃That's not even fashionable；〃 mumbled the middle…aged； grayish…blond woman whose expertise was in personnel files； she also stood up。
〃What are you saying？〃 Carlos's voice was now a harsh； condemning whisper； rising rapidly in intensity and volume。 〃I am the monseigneur from Paris。 I have made your lives fortable far beyond your miserable expectations and now you question me？ How would I know the things I know…how could I have poured my concentration and my resources into you here in this room if I were not among the most privileged in Moscow？ Remember who I am！〃
〃But we don't know who you are；〃 said another man； rising。 Like the other males； his clothes were neat； somber and well pressed； but there was a difference in that they were better tailored； as though he took considerable pains with his appearance。 His face； too； was different； it was paler than the others and his eyes were more intense； more focused somehow； giving the impression that when he spoke he weighed his words with great care。 〃Beyond the clerical title you've appropriated； we have no knowledge as to your identity and you obviously do not care to reveal it。 As to what you know； you've recounted blatant weaknesses and subsequent injustices in our departmental systems； but they are rampant throughout the ministries。 You might as well have picked a dozen others like us from a dozen other divisions； and I dare say the plaints would have been the same。 Nothing new there…〃
〃How dare you？〃 screamed Carlos the Jackal； the veins in his neck pronounced。 〃Who are you to say such things to me？ I am the monseigneur from Paris； a true son of the Revolution！〃
〃And I am a judge advocate in the Ministry of Legal Procedures； rade Monseigneur； and a much younger product of that revolution。 I may not know the heads of the KGB； who you claim are your minions； but I know the penalties for taking the legal processes in our own hands and personally…secretly…confronting our superiors rather than reporting directly to the Bureau of Irregularities。 They are penalties I'd rather not face without far more thorough evidentiary materials than unsolicited dossiers from unknown sources； conceivably invented by discontented officials below even our levels。 。。。 Frankly； I don't care to see them； for I will not be promised by gratuitous pretrial testimony that can be injurious to my position。〃
〃You are an insignificant lawyer！〃 roared the assassin in priest's clothing； now repeatedly clenching his hands into fists； his eyes being bloodshot。 〃You are all twisters of the truth！ You are sworn panions of the prevailing winds of convenience！〃
〃Nicely said；〃 said the attorney from Legal Procedures； smiling。 〃Except； rade； you stole the phrase from the English Blackstone。〃
〃I will not tolerate your insufferable insolence！〃
〃You don't have to； rade Priest； for I intend to leave； and my legal advice to all here in this room is to do the same。〃
〃You dare？〃
〃I certainly do；〃 replied the Soviet attorney； granting himself a moment of humor as he looked around the gathering and grinned。 〃I might have to prosecute myself； and I'm far too good at my job。〃
〃The money！〃 shrieked the Jackal。 〃I've sent you all thousands！〃
〃Where is it recorded？〃 asked the lawyer with an air of innocence。 〃You； yourself； made sure it was untraceable。 Paper bags in our mail slots； or in our office drawers…notes attached instructing us to burn them。 Who among our citizens would admit to having placed them there？ That way lies the Lubyanka。 。。。 Good…bye； rade Monseigneur；〃 said the attorney for the Ministry of Legal Procedures； scraping his chair in place and starting for the door。
One by one； as they had arrived； the assembled group followed the lawyer； each looking back at the strange man who had so exotically； so briefly； interrupted their tedious lives； all knowing instinctively that in his path were disgrace and execution。 Death。
Yet none was prepared for what followed。 The killer in priest's clothing suddenly snapped； visceral bolts of lightning electrified his madness。 His dark eyes burned with a raging fire that could be extinguished only by soul…satisfying violence…relentless； brutal； savage vengeance for all the wrongs done to his pure purpose to kill the unbelievers！ The Jackal swept away the dossiers from the table and lurched down to the pile of newspapers； he grabbed the deadly automatic weapon from beneath the scattered pages and roared； 〃Stop！ All of you！〃
None did； and the outer regions of psychopathic energy became the order of the moment。 The killer squeezed the trigger repeatedly and men and women died。 Amid screams from the shattered bodies nearest the door； the assassin raced outside； leaping over the corpses； his assault rifle on automatic fire； cutting down the figures in the street； screaming curses； condemning the unbelievers to a hell only he could imagine。
〃Traitors！ Filth！ Garbage！〃 screamed the crazed Jackal as he leaped over the dead bodies； racing to the car he had mandeered from the Komitet and its inadequate surveillance unit。 The night had ended； the morning had begun。
The Metropole's telephone did not ring； it erupted。 Startled； Alex Conklin snapped open his eyes； instantly shaking the sleep from his head as he clawed for the strident instrument on the bedside table。 〃Yes？〃 he announced； wondering briefly if he was speaking into the conically shaped mouthpiece or into the receiver。
〃Aleksei； stay put！ Admit no one into your rooms and have your weapons ready！〃
〃Krupkin？ 。。。 What the hell are you talking about。〃
〃A crazed dog is loose in Moscow。〃
〃Carlos？〃
〃He's gone pletely mad。 He killed Rodchenko and butchered the two agents who were following him。 A farmer found their bodies around four o'clock this morning…it seems the dogs woke him up with their barking； downwind of the blood scents； I imagine。〃
〃Christ； he's gone over the edge。 。。。 But why do you think…〃
〃One of our agents was tortured before being killed；〃 broke in the KGB officer； fully anticipating Alex's question。 〃He was our driver from the airport； a protégé of mine and the son of a classmate I roomed with at the university。 A fine young man from a