Man Who Wanted Tomorrow by Brian Freemantle

control the need to prove himself constantly superior to everyone.
    â€œI thought I might be able to encompass several things on one trip,” he said. To attempt a casual tone would only have alerted the other man, so he didn’t bother.
    Mavetsky looked up, like an animal sniffing the wind to detect danger.
    â€œLike what?” he said, cautiously.
    It was time to make concessions, decided Kurnov. He wondered if he could disarm the other man.
    â€œThere have been one or two things I’ve found curious in the last few months, during my visit to Potma,” he said.
    Mavetsky just avoided the smile of satisfaction. The tape wouldn’t be damaging now.
    â€œCurious?” he probed.
    â€œJust odd, inexplicable behavior, from men finally realizing their lives have ended, even though their bodies continue to function. I felt it might translate to the effect upon a cosmonaut if his craft malfunctioned and he realized there was no way of rescue, although there was the support system to enable life to continue in space for a period of time.”
    How had that idea occurred to him? wondered Kurnov. Suddenly he remembered. That bumptious NASA director had asked him whether Russians could survive with such knowledge. He had assured the man they could, he recalled. He hoped the American hadn’t continued the discussion with Mavetsky.
    It sounded plausible, determined the minister, but he felt Kurnov was floundering. This recording should be put to one side, with the others selected for easy reference if the need arose.
    â€œI can’t quite see …?” Mavetsky encouraged.
    â€œThere’s a world-wide conference of prison psychiatrists and doctors, a fortnight before the space launch. We’ve got accreditation, but the party still isn’t finally chosen …”
    â€œAnd you want to go?” asked Mavetsky. Why? he wondered.
    â€œIt might be interesting,” said Kurnov. “The public sessions probably will be very dull. They usually are. But the benefits will come from private conversations and contacts.”
    The hope was just detectable in the man’s voice, thought Mavetsky. He was concentrating fully now. Something was wrong, very wrong. He would have to be careful. There might be difficulty from association.
    â€œStrange you’ve never thought such conferences worth attending before,” said Mavetsky, gently. It would be wrong to frighten the man too soon.
    â€œI haven’t encountered the Potma manifestation before,” replied Kurnov. “Other countries may have done and conducted some research into it. If they have, I’d like to read their papers.”
    He’s suspicious, he thought, worriedly. It had been stupid to annoy him earlier. The man’s vanity was malleable. It would have been so easy to have flattered him and smothered the doubt he was now feeling.
    â€œI really think there would be benefit from attending,” he said. He was annoyed at the need to speak again. It put him at a disadvantage.
    â€œI don’t doubt your sincerity,” assured Mavetsky. Never before had he felt Kurnov to be so obviously discomforted. The minister was enjoying the encounter.
    â€œWhere is this conference?” demanded Mavetsky.
    Kurnov didn’t reply immediately, which was a tactical error. God, how badly he’d handled the entire interview, he thought. He wondered if Mavetsky’s suspicions could be dangerous. Probably, he conceded. The man was a survivor. People like him remained because they were able to anticipate difficulties.
    â€œBerlin,” he announced, simply.
    Mavetsky stared at him, his face quite blank. He let the silence build up, knowing it would unsettle further the other man. He was reacting as Kurnov would in similar circumstances, Mavetsky decided. Any further discussion would be wrong. Mavetsky knew he had to end the winner.
    â€œRight,” he concluded, dismissively. “Send me a full note