"Or our judges." Loo's voice was flat. They stood there for another five minutes in silence. Loo said finally, "Undoubtedly our Intourist guides will take us nearer, if that's allowed, later during our stay. Meanwhile, my friends, I shall rest up for the occasion." "Let's take our quick look at the city," Paco said to Hank. "Once the Intourist people take over they'll run our feet off. Frankly, I have little interest in where the first shot of the revolution was fired, the latest tractor factory, or where Rasputin got it in the neck. There are more important things." "We know," Loo said from the bed. "Women." "Right!" * * * * * Hank was wondering whether or not to leave the room. The _Stilyagi_ were to contact him. Where? When? Obviously, he'd need their help. He had no idea whatsoever on how to penetrate to the Interplanetary emissaries. [Illustration] He spoke Russian. Fine. So what? Could he simply march up to the spacecraft and knock on the door? Or would he make himself dangerously conspicuous by just getting any closer than he now was to the craft? As he stood now, he felt he was comparatively safe. He was sure the Russkies had marked him down as a rather ordinary American. Heavens knows, he'd worked hard enough at the role. A simple, average tourist, a little on the square side, and not even particularly articulate. However, he wasn't going to accomplish much by remaining here in this room. He doubted that the _Stilyagi_ would get in touch with him either by phone or simply knocking at the door. "O.K., Paco," he said. "Let's go. In search of the pin-up girl--Moscow style." They walked down to the lobby and started for the door. One of the Intourist guides who had brought them from the railroad station stood to one side of the stairs. "Going for a walk, gentlemen? I suggest you stroll up Gorky Street, it's the main shopping center." Paco said, "How about going over into Red Square to see the spaceship?" The guide shrugged. "I don't believe the guards will allow you to get too near. It would be undesirable to bother the Galactic delegates to the Soviet Union." That was one way of wording it, Hank thought glumly. _The Galactic delegates to the Soviet Union._ Not to the Earth, but to the Soviet Union. He wondered what the neutrals in such countries as India were thinking. But at least there were no restrictions on Paco and him. They strolled up Gorky Street, jam packed with fellow pedestrians. Shoppers, window-shoppers, men on the prowl for girls, girls on the prowl for men, Ivan and his wife taking the baby for a stroll, street cleaners at the endless job of keeping Moscow's streets the neatest in the world. Paco pointed out this to Hank, Hank pointed out that to Paco. Somehow it seemed more than a visit to a western European nation. This was Moscow. This was the head of the Soviet snake.