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“What’s your offer, Mikhail?”
    â€œLife, old friend.”
    Kendig grinned at him. “And the alternative?”
    â€œI did not invite you to join me here on such a pleasant day in order to impose ultimata upon you,” Yaskov said. “I make no threats at all. The alternative would be of your own making, not of mine. I simply offer to revive you. I wish to bring you back to life.”
    â€œThe resurrection of Miles Kendig.” His tongue toyed with it. “A fine title for an autobiography.”
    â€œDon’t be evasive.”
    â€œWhat is it you want, then? Are you short a defector this month?”
    â€œOh defection is such a degrading transformation, don’t you think? In any case I should imagine you’d be just as bored in a Moscow flat as you are here. My dear Miles, I’m offering to put you back into the game. Back into action. Isn’t it what you want?”
    â€œAs a double agent I’d be of very little use, I have no access to my former employers.”
    â€œDouble agents are tedious little people anyhow,” Yaskov said. “They’re required to be so colorless. I don’t think it would suit you at all. No, it’s really quite straightforward. I should like to run you in the field. As my own agent. I can assure you the members of my string regard me as a most amiable Control. How does it strike you?”
    Kendig tried briefly to put some show of interest on his face. Yaskov did not speak further; he left his invitation dangling like a baited hook.
    The barge disappeared round the bend on its leisurely passage to Le Havre. The little powerboat came zigzagging back upstream, splitting the water with its razor bow, planing and slapping gaily. The sun on Kendig’s cheek was soporific. He didn’t want to have to think.
    Yaskov began to draw circles on the pavement with the rubber tip of his cane. It was a subtle rebuke. It forced Kendig to speak. “It wouldn’t be worth it to me, I’m afraid.
    â€œWe’d make it worthwhile of course. There’s plenty of money.”
    â€œMoney costs too much when you have to earn it that way.”
    â€œThen what is it you want? Power?”
    â€œGod no.”
    â€œI could let you run a string of your own if you like. You might even rise to the policy level in time. Doesn’t that intrigue you? The possibility of making policy for your former enemies?”
    â€œSounds tedious to me.”
    â€œOur kind has been on this planet for perhaps two million years,” Yaskov said, “and during all butone percent of that period we lived as hunters. The hunting way of life is the only one natural to man. The one most rewarding. It was your way of life but your government took it away from you. I offer to return it to you.”
    â€œIt’s self-destructive lunacy, that’s all it is.”
    â€œWell my dear Miles you can’t lead our kind of life and expect to live forever. But at least we can be alive for a time.”
    â€œIt’s all computers now. World War Three will be known as the Paperkrieg. There’s no need for my kind of toy gladiator any more. We’re as obsolete as fur-trapping explorers.”
    â€œIt’s hardly gone that far, old friend. Otherwise why should I be making you this offer?”
    â€œBecause you can’t face obsolescence—you won’t acknowledge it the way I’ve done. You’re as redundant as I am—you just don’t know it yet.” Kendig smiled meaninglessly. “We’ve seven’d out. All of us.”
    â€œI don’t know the expression but you make it clear enough.”
    â€œIt’s to do with a dice game.”
    â€œYes, of course. You’re beginning to annoy me. You’re not merely disenchanted; you’re condescending. I don’t need to be patronized. I suspect behind your smokescreen of boredom you’re resisting my offer out of some absurd vestige