PIome! Yuri gave a silent， sardonic laugh. He had no home.<br >Certainly not Moscow， where he lived all but one of his thirty-<br >seven years. Not the university where he earned his degree，<br >nor the institute where he worked. Not even the flat in Lenin<br >Prospekt where he had lived with Gena. Any sentiment he felt<br >for the places that had been home had faded in a Moscow<br >courtroom， had vanished in a camp called Penn. Life at hard<br >labor was not life at all. It was time spent in a vacuum， where<br >only the body functioned， where brain and heart quickly atro-<br >phied from disuse.<br > He pushed on， one step at a time--slowly， heavily， silently.<br >Caution came as instinct now. He was weary beyond exhaus-<br >tion， numbed to pain， unable to think of anything but the one<br >unwavering purpose that had kept him going till now. Escape.<br >Then he rounded a curve in the path， and without warning the<br >view opened up before him--the green slope of mountain<br >descending to a narrow strip of beach， to orange and lemon<br >groves， to tea and tobacco plantations， all thriving in the sub-<br >tropical climate of the Black Sea， at the edge of the Soviet<br >world.<br > For a moment Yuri felt nothing but profound shock. At last，<br >the end was in sight. Then tears came up in his eyes. He and<br >Gena had honeymooned here， up the coast road at Sochi. They<br >had promised themselves they d come back. Now Yuri had<br >returned， in rags， hungry and frail to the point of illness--not<br >to Sochi， but Gagra， at the gate of the ancient Colchis， where<br >Jason had sailed in search of the Golden Fleece.<br > Yuri stared out over the sea. Home was out there some-<br >where， in the gray mist， beyond the dark water， beyond the far<br >shore of Turkey. He would spend one last day in Russia， one<br >more day as a fugitive for a crime that defied all sense. Tonight，<br >under cover of darkness， he would leave his homeland forever.<br >Tomorrow he would be free.<br > Exhaustion lifted with new hope. Yuri walked more quickly<br >as he continued on down the path， but his instinct for caution<br >sharpened. If anything， he was in more danger here than ever--<br >here， now， in calling distance of friends. Friends， though he d<br >MASTERSTROKE ，3<br >never seen them and didn t know them by name. They shared<br >something far more intimate than names: a common purpose.<br >They offered something far more urgent: food and shelter， rest，<br >false papers， and passage to a new world.<br > Yes， friends were here， but so too was the enemy.<br > Gagra was a health resort where the Soviet elite came to<br >bathe away their ills in the warm mineral springs. Arid autumn<br >was the height of the season. While temperatures plunged below<br >freezing in other parts of Russia， the climate here remained<br >balmy well into November. Rooftops dotted the green slope<br >that rose up from the beach below， but the houses beneath them<br >were concealed by trees. They were rest homes and sanatori-<br >ums， each isolated from the next by design， because some<br >ailments were better treated in private.<br > Three of the roofs were more isolated than the rest. They<br >sat above the others and could not be seen unless someone.<br >came from the mountain peaks behind them. Yuri paused for<br >a moment as a map appeared in his mind， a map scratched out<br >crudely on paper， weeks ago， memorized and burned. He could<br >see it now as clearly as he had when he held it in his hand.<br > And he smiled. His escape would shock the Kremlin for<br >more reasons than one. These mountains were combed with<br >ravines and caverns and hidden underground streams. But<br >Yuri s friends weren t waiting in a mountain cave or a hidden<br >ravine. Their plan was far more audacious. They had taken<br >over a house in that uppermost tier--not a rest home or san-<br >atorium， but a villa owned by the government and operated<br >solely for the pleasure of its crdme de la crdme.<br > Yuri followed the map in his mind， moving carefully behind<br >cover， making sure his approach could not be seen from within.<br >There was still time for retreat if the sign was not in place， as<br >he had been told it would be when the underground took con-<br >trol. He moved cautiously， approaching the house from the<br >rear.<br > It was a big white frame house with large windows above<br >and below the roof of a wide veranda， Victorian by design，<br >like the seaside homes Yuri had seen in pictures of Cape Cod<br >and Cornwall.<br ><br ><br >