There were tears in the Russian's eyes. "So my choice is to have them bombed by the Americans or shot by the security police?"
ItT '»
"No, no, it won't work. It could never work. It is madness even to think about it." Leonov paced away from the window.
Kinsman stood there and said nothing. He watched the Russian's back, the tension in the corded muscles of his neck. "It could work, Peter," he said. "We could make it work."
Leonov wheeled around to face him. "What would you have me do? Betray Russian and take away her only defense against American attack? Leave my homeland, my children, my whole life, to remain an exile forever here on this rock? Put my trust in a handful of strangers? Lunatics? Americans? How do I know I can trust your people? How do I know I can trust you7"
"You're afraid—"
"Of course I'm afraid!"
Kinsman felt the cold of that empty sky seeping into his guts. ". . . because I killed one of your cosmonauts,"
Leonov rocked backward half a step. "Then it's true." His voice was hollow.
"It's true."
"I didn't believe the intelligence reports. Sometimes they contain exaggerations—outright lies, propaganda."
"I killed her," Kinsman said.
The Russian stepped close to Kinsman. Tears still glis- tened in his eyes. "I never meant to force you to confess to me."
Kinsman felt lightheaded, almost giddy. It was like coming out of anesthesia. "It was something I had to tell you; it had to be removed from between us." 403
Leonov closed his eyes.
"I can't kill anyone again," Kinsman said. "Not even if it's only by sitting back and letting others push the buttons. I have to try to stop them. Have to, Peter."
"And you cannot do it without Lunagrad's help."
"Without your help."
"Forgive me, old friend. I could never have trusted you if you had not told me. It's ridiculous, but I could not have trusted you."
They stood side by side, looking out the window at the bleak landscape and empty sky.
