Overkill by James Barrington

operations against us. They are very sensitive to world opinion, and
do not wish to be seen in an aggressive light. So why would they risk flying their spy-plane across the tundra now, in broad daylight? Of course, they would have been able to detect the last weapon
test, but we have been exploding devices for the past year or so.’
    ‘Yes, Nicolai, but they were underground tests. This was the first above-ground test.’
    ‘The first and the last,’ Modin said, nodding agreement. ‘It is unfortunate that we had to have an above-ground detonation at all, and it wasn’t even a test of the
weapon, just a confirmation that the triggering mechanism was functioning correctly. But even so, why would the Americans risk the flight?’
    Sokolov took another sip of coffee, and then looked across at Modin. ‘Do you have a theory, old friend?’ he asked, finally.
    ‘It seems to me,’ Modin replied, ‘that there are only two possibilities. The first is that the Americans are a lot smarter than we thought, and have deduced the nature of the
weapon from the recordings of their seismographic devices.’
    ‘I doubt that,’ Sokolov said.
    ‘So do I.’
    ‘Of course,’ Sokolov added thoughtfully, ‘the flight could simply have been a precautionary measure. They would obviously be aware from their seismic records that the weapon
does not have the usual characteristics of a strategic fission or fusion weapon, and they might have decided that the only course open to them was to use the spy-plane.’
    ‘Agreed,’ Modin said, ‘but in the current political climate it seems unlikely.’
    ‘Unlikely, but it is possible, yes?’ Modin nodded again, almost reluctantly. ‘You said there were two possibilities, Nicolai,’ Sokolov went on. ‘What is the
second?’
    Modin lowered his eyes. ‘I do not like this, Grigori, but I can see only one other explanation: someone told them about the project. Someone here, or in the GRU.’
    ‘Are you serious?’ Sokolov asked. ‘Are you really suggesting that there is a predatel – a traitor – here?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Modin. ‘In fact, Minister Trushenko and I have already discussed this, and we both agree that this is the most probable conclusion, based upon the available
evidence.’
    Sokolov looked across the table and uttered a single word. ‘Who?’
    ‘If I knew that, Grigori, I would sleep tonight. This has been the highest-classified project in the country for the last four years. Until a year ago, only Minister Trushenko, General
Bykov and I knew all the details – the technicians have obviously known they have been working on nuclear weapons, but not how the weapons were to be used.’ He put his coffee cup down
and waved his arm in sudden anger. ‘This project was so secret that it wasn’t even given a name until this year, because if you name something, you acknowledge its existence.’
    ‘And now, Nicolai? How many people know about it now?’
    ‘More than twenty. All with the highest possible security clearances, and most of them known personally to me – and to you. I cannot even begin to suspect any of them.’
    Modin picked up his coffee cup, glanced into it and stood up. He looked down enquiringly at Sokolov, who shook his head. Modin walked slowly over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup, then
returned to the chair, sitting with a weary sigh. ‘The trouble is that every one of them needed to know about the project, now that it is approaching completion. I personally –
personally, you understand – approved each one and, naturally, I checked all their records. I even,’ he added softly, ‘checked your record, old friend.’
    Sokolov nodded. ‘So you should, Nicolai, so you should. With a matter of this importance no one can be considered to be above suspicion. What now? What will you do?’
    Modin sipped his coffee and put the cup on the table, then looked keenly at Sokolov. ‘Two things. first, a job for you. It will be distasteful to you,