Summit by Richard Bowker Page B

information is that she's in love with you," Houghton explained.
    "Obsessed with you is more like it," Williams said. "Has pictures of you everywhere, plays your records all the time. You're her weakness."
    Fulton waited for them to say something more. Once again, they didn't. "So you're going to lure her to America with the promise of meeting me?" he asked.
    "Not exactly. We'd like you to do the luring."
    "In Moscow?"
    Williams nodded.
    This sounded bizarre to Fulton. Everything sounded bizarre to him now. What were they up to? "Just go there and ask her?" he said. "Won't the Russians get suspicious?"
    "But you see, you've been invited. Have you heard of the Moscow Peace Festival?"
    "I don't think so."
    "Well, you're a fan of disarmament, so I'm sure you know about the big push Grigoriev is making to get a comprehensive arms-reduction treaty signed. He's got everybody stirred up, and he's making America look like a warmongering villain to the rest of the world. Anyway, a big part of his campaign is a Peace Festival in Moscow this September—that's only a few weeks before the big summit with President Winn at the United Nations. Now, Russia is forever having peace festivals, it seems to me, but Grigoriev promises that this one is going to be the biggest, most important of all. For one thing, he's going to get a lot of distinguished international statesmen to show up, presumably to put pressure on Winn to make concessions at the summit. For another, he's promised to announce dramatic foreign policy initiatives at the festival. And what he'd like to cap the thing off would be a major artistic event—like, for example, Daniel Fulton's return to the concert stage."
    "We understand that your manager has already received the invitation," Culpepper said.
    Fulton nodded. Hershohn hadn't mentioned it to him, but there was no reason why he should have. "So I go over there and bring this woman back with me?"
    "Just make the offer," Williams said. "She's sure to be at the recital and the reception afterward—she's important enough to have a great deal of pull. We hope you'll have a chance to talk to her, feel her out, and if things look good, make the initial proposition. We think she'll be receptive—our source says she's very unhappy. If she says yes, we'll take it from there."
    "What happens if she does come to America?" Fulton asked. "Do you just put her to work doing the same thing against the Russians?"
    Williams shrugged. "Only if she agrees to it. Certainly we would want to test her, to try and find out what makes her tick. But we can't—and won't—do anything without her cooperation. The main thing is to get her away from the Soviets, before she does more damage."
    "Think about what our alternative will have to be," Houghton murmured, "if we can't convince her to defect."
    The alternative seemed clear. "You'll kill her," Fulton said.
    "It's a tough business, Mr. Fulton," Williams said.
    "And what makes you think I'd agree to get involved in this business?"
    Williams ran a hand through his white hair. "Because I think you're a patriot," he replied. "I know you haven't always sounded particularly patriotic—and that's why Grigoriev wants you at his Peace Festival. But you're an American—you were born and raised here, you became rich and famous here. The country isn't perfect, but you're part of it—it's part of you. It's in danger now, and it's asking something of you. I don't think you'll turn America down. What do you say?"
    Fulton stared at Williams. Such a strange-looking little man. What was going on inside his head? What did he know that he wasn't saying? Were there plots within plots here, the way there always seemed to be in spy movies? Most important of all, did Williams understand the difficulty of what he was asking him to do? "I haven't played in public for three years," Fulton said. "This is not a trivial thing you want from me."
    Williams nodded. "If we could get you over there some other way without