Lou blinked, smiled and stretched out her hand. “Well, then,” she said. “Hello. And let’s all have a happy trip.” “By all means,” Malone said. “And the trip seems to be about to start.” He could hear the tramping of a lot of feet coming across the field toward them. He looked and saw that the feet were all neatly attached to bodies, two to a body. There were Thomas Boyd’s feet, the assorted twelve feet of six FBI agents, and three pairs that belonged to Alexis Brubitsch, Ivan Borbitsch and Vasili Garbitsch. Brubitsch looked even fatter than ever, Borbitsch even thinner. Garbitsch was of an indeterminate middling shape; he had grey hair and a pair of pince-nez, and he walked a trifle unevenly, like a duck, with his hands clasped low in front of him. He was looking down at the ground as the crowd shoved him along. When the crowd neared the steps, Luba went over to him. Garbitsch looked up, with a pleasant, somehow wistful smile on his face. “Hello, Luba, my child,” he said. Luba smiled, too. “Hello, Dad,” she said. “All ready to go?” “Certainly I am ready,” he said. “I am all packed. We take off in a few minutes. And you, Luba, my child?” “Fine, Dad,” she said. She looked down. “They’ve got handcuffs on you,” she said. “Why, that’s—” Garbitsch shrugged. He looked even more wistful. “A formality,” he said. “It makes no difference.” “Okay,” Boyd said suddenly. “We’ve got to get out of here pretty soon, and you’ll be taking off. Let’s break it up. Miss Thompson, you and Luba go aboard. Malone, you follow with the others.” Malone rounded up Brubitsch, Borbitsch and Garbitsch and followed the ladies aboard. He came back to the door then, and stuck his head out. “The keys,” he said. Boyd stared. “What?” “The keys to the handcuffs,” Malone said. “I’ll need ’em.” “You’re going to take them off when they get to Russia?” Boyd said. Malone shook his head. “No,” he said. “Now.” “But—” “I think we’ll have plenty of warning if they decide to try anything, Tom,” Malone said quietly. “Her Majesty, after all, is keeping them under surveillance.” Without another word, Boyd tossed up the keys. Malone caught and pocketed them. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can keep digging on other stuff—what we’ve discussed and anything it seems to lead into.” “Right,” Boyd said. “Stay out of trouble, Ken. So long.” Malone nodded and ducked back into the plane. He unlocked the handcuffs, and Brubitsch and Borbitsch immediately went and sat down mournfully together at the back of the plane. Malone looked for Lou, but she was already seated—with Her Majesty, naturally. He sighed briefly and sat down, at last, next to the wistful Garbitsch. “It will be nice to see Russia again,” Garbitsch said. “I hardly hoped to do so.” The plane shuddered, roared and took off. Then it settled down to its normal state of unnatural quiet. Malone sat back and tried to relax. It was impossible. 7