“That,” Malone said decisively, “would keep me out of Russia entirely.” “Damn it,” Burris said, “you know what I mean. We don’t want any international incidents, understand?” “Yes, sir,” Malone said. Burris nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “Your plane leaves from the airport in an hour. You’d better go and talk to Her Majesty first.” “Right,” Malone said. “And I hope you know what you’re doing,” Burris said. _So do I_, Malone thought privately. Aloud, he said, “I just want to get the feel of things over there, that’s all, sir. I won’t cause any more trouble than an ordinary tourist.” “Malone,” Burris said, “don’t be an ordinary tourist. They’re empty-headed morons and they do make trouble. Be an invisible tourist. Be nice to everybody. Be polite and kind. Don’t step on any toes, no matter whose and no matter why.” “Yes, sir,” Malone said. “Remember, they’re going to know who you are,” Burris said. “It’s not as if we could keep it a secret.” “Yes, sir,” Malone said. “I’ll remember.” “All right.” Burris extended his hand. “Good luck, Malone,” he said, with a deeper feeling of sincerity than Malone had experienced from him in months. Malone shook the hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said. * * * * * A little less than an hour later, Malone sat on the steps of the landing ramp that led up to the open door of the big Air Force transport plane on the runway. The plane was waiting, and so was Malone. He didn’t feel confident, or even excited. He felt just a little bit frightened. Burris’ complicated warnings had had some effect, and Malone was fighting down a minor case of the shakes. Next to him, her face wreathed in happy smiles, sat a smartly-dressed grey-haired woman in her sixties. She wore an unobtrusive tailored suit and a light jacket, and she looked as if she might be one of the elder matrons of the society set, very definitely an upper-crust type. In spite of the normality of her clothing, Her Majesty looked every inch a Queen, Malone thought. “And that, Sir Kenneth, is only natural,” she said sweetly. “Even when traveling incognito, one must retain one’s dignity. And I don’t object at all to using the name of Rose Thompson in a good cause; it was used for so many years it almost feels like part of me.” “I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” Malone said mildly. A voice from above and behind him interrupted his worried thoughts. “Mr. Malone!” it said. “Mr. Malone?” Malone screwed his head around and looked up. An Air Force colonel was standing in the doorway of the plane, looking down with a stern, worried expression. “Yes?” Malone said. “What is it?” “Takeoff, Mr. Malone,” the colonel said. “We’re due to go in fifteen minutes, and our clearance has been established.” “Fine,” Malone said. “But your passengers,” the colonel said. “Where are they?”