Freedom

by Arthur B. Reeve

here; the end for which Stalin purgedten millions and more, is reached; the sacrifices demanded by Khrushchevin the Seven-Year Plans have finally paid off, as the Yankees say. Ourgross national product, our per capita production, our standard of living,is the highest in the world. Sacrifices are no longer necessary."

  There had been an almost whining note in his voice. But now he broke itoff. He poured them still another drink. "At any rate, Ilya, I was withFrol Zverev this morning. Number One is incensed. It seems that in theAzerbaijan Republic, for one example, that even the Komsomols werecirculating among themselves various proscribed books and pamphlets.Comrade Zverev instructed me to concentrate on discovering the reason forthis disease."

  Colonel Simonov scowled. "What's this got to do with Czechoslovakia--andautomobiles?"

  The security head waggled a fat finger at him. "What we've been doing,thus far, is dashing forth upon hearing of a new conflagration andstamping it out. Obviously, that's no answer. We must find who is behindit. How it begins. Why it begins. That's your job?"

  "Why Czechoslovakia?"

  "You're unknown as a security agent there, for one thing. You will go toPrague and become manager of the Moskvich automobile distribution agency.No one, not even the Czech unit of our ministry will be aware of youridentity. You will play it by ear, as the Americans say."

  "To whom do I report?"

  "Only to me, until the task is completed. When it is, you will return toMoscow and report fully." A grimace twisted Blagonravov's face. "If I amstill here. Number One is truly incensed, Ilya."

  * * * * *

  There had been some more. Kliment Blagonravov had evidently chosen Prague,the capital of Czechoslovakia, as the seat of operations in a suspicionthat the wave of unrest spreading insidiously throughout the SovietComplex owed its origins to the West. Thus far, there had been no evidenceof this but the suspicion refused to die. If not the West, then who? TheCold War was long over but the battle for men's minds continued even inpeace.

  Ideally, Ilya Simonov was to infiltrate whatever Czech groups might beactive in the illicit movement and then, if he discovered there was ahigher organization, a center of the movement, he was to attempt to becomea part of it. If possible he was to rise in the organisation to as high apoint as he could.

  Blagonravov, Minister of the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_, theExtraordinary Commission for Combating Counter-Revolution and Sabotage,was of the opinion that if this virus of revolt was originating from theWest, then it would be stronger in the satellite countries than in Russiaitself. Simonov held no opinion as yet. He would wait and see. However,there was an uncomfortable feeling about the whole assignment. The groupin Magnitogorsk, he was all but sure, had no connections with Westernagents, nor anyone else, for that matter. Of course, it might have been anexception.

  He left the Ministry, his face thoughtful as he climbed into his waitingZil. This assignment was going to be a lengthy one. He'd have to wind upvarious affairs here in Moscow, personal as well as business. He might beaway for a year or more.

  There was a sheet of paper on the seat of his aircushion car. He frownedat it. It couldn't have been there before. He picked it up.

  It was a mimeographed throw-away.

  It was entitled, _FREEDOM_, and it began: _Comrades, more than a hundredyears ago the founders of scientific socialism, Karl Marx and FrederickEngels, explained that the State was incompatible with liberty, that theState was an instrument of repression of one class by another. Theyexplained that for true freedom ever to exist the State must wither away._

  _Under the leadership of Lenin, Stalin, Krushchev and now Zverev, theState has become ever stronger. Far from withering away, it continues tooppress us. Fellow Russians, it is time we take action! We must...._

  Colonel Simonov bounced from his car again, shot his eyes up and down thestreet. He barely refrained from drawing the 9 mm automatic which nestledunder his left shoulder and which he knew how to use so well.

  He curtly beckoned to the plainclothes man, still idling against thebuilding a hundred feet or so up the street. The other approached him,touched the brim of his hat in a half salute.

  Simonov snapped, "Do you know who I am?"

  "Yes, colonel."

  Ilya Simonov thrust the leaflet forward. "How did this get into my car?"

  The other looked at it blankly. "I don't know, Colonel Simonov."

  "You've been here all this time?"

  "Why, yes colonel."

  "With my car in plain sight?"

  That didn't seem to call for an answer. The plainclothesman lookedapprehensive but blank.

  Simonov turned on his heel and approached the two guards at the gate. Theywere not more than thirty feet from where he was parked. They came to thesalute but he growled, "At ease. Look here, did anyone approach my vehiclewhile I was inside?"

  One of the soldiers said, "Sir, twenty or thirty people have passed sincethe Comrade colonel entered the Ministry."

  The other one said, "Yes, sir."

  Ilya Simonov looked from the guards to the plainclothes man and back, infrustration. Finally he spun on his heel again and re-entered the car. Heslapped the elevation lever, twisted the wheel sharply, hit the jets pedalwith his foot and shot into the traffic.

  The plainclothes man looked after him and muttered to the guards,"Blagonravov's hatchetman. He's killed more men than the plague. A bad oneto have down on you."

  Simonov bowled down the Kaluga at excessive speed. "Driving like a young_stilyagi_," he growled in irritation at himself. But, confound it, howfar had things gone when subversive leaflets were placed in cars parked infront of the ministry devoted to combating counter revolution.

  * * * * *

  He'd been away from Moscow for over a month and the amenities in the smog,smoke and coke fumes blanketing industrial complex of Magnitogorsk hadn'tbeen particularly of the best. Ilya Simonov headed now for Gorki Streetand the Baku Restaurant. He had an idea that it was going to be some timebefore the opportunity would be repeated for him to sit down to Zakouski,the salty, spicy Russian hors d'oeuvres, and to Siberian pilmeny and abottle of Tsinandali.

  The restaurant, as usual, was packed. In irritation, Ilya Simonov stoodfor a while waiting for a table, then, taking the head waiter's advice,agreed to share one with a stranger.

  The stranger, a bearded little man, who was dwaddling over his Gurievskayakasha dessert while reading _Izvestia_, glanced up at him, unseemingly,bobbed his head at Simonov's request to share his table, and returned tothe newspaper.

  The harried waiter took his time in turning up with a menu. Ilya Simonovattempted to relax. He had no particular reason to be upset by the leafletfound in his car. Obviously, whoever had thrown it there was distributinghaphazardly. The fact that it was mimeographed, rather than printed, wasan indication of lack of resources, an amateur affair. But what in theworld did these people want? What did they want?

  The Soviet State was turning out consumer's goods, homes, cars as nonation in the world. Vacations were lengthy, working hours short. Afour-day week, even! What did they _want_? What motivates a man who isliving on a scale unknown to a Czarist boyar to risk his position, evenhis life! in a stupidly impossible revolt against the country'sgovernment?

  The man across from him snorted in contempt.

  He looked over the top of his paper at Smirnov and said, "The election inItaly. Ridiculous!"

  Ilya Simonov brought his mind back to the present. "How did they turn out?I understand the depression is terrible there."

  "So I understand," the other said. "The vote turned out as was to beexpected."

  Simonov's eyebrows went up. "The Party has been voted into power?"

  "Ha!" the other snorted. "The vote for the Party has fallen off by morethan a third."

  The security colonel scowled at him. "That doesn't sound reasonable, ifthe economic situation is as bad as has been reported."

  His table mate put down the paper. "Why not? H
as there ever been a countrywhere the Party was _voted_ into power? Anywhere--at any time during themore than half a century since the Bolsheviks first took over here inRussia?"

  Simonov looked at him.

  The other was talking out opinions he'd evidently formed while reading the_Izvestia_ account of the Italian elections, not paying particularattention to the stranger across from him.

  He said, his voice irritated, "Nor will there ever be. They know better.In the early days of the revolution the workers might have had illusionsabout the Party and it goals. Now they've lost them. Everywhere, they'velost them."

  Ilya Simonov said tightly, "How do you mean?"

  "I mean the Party has been rejected. With the exception of China andYugoslavia, both of whom have their