He tossed the vodka at the giant’s eyes, and scooted around the mountain of flesh before it erupted with a volcanic succession of Russian curses that shook the room with their volume and sincerity. But Lou and Her Majesty were nowhere in sight. Major Petkoff was staring, and Malone followed his line of sight. A door in the rear of the restaurant was just closing. Behind it Malone saw Her Majesty and Lou, disappearing from sight. Malone knocked over a waiter and headed for Petkoff. “What’s going on here?” he bellowed over the crash of dishes and the rising wave of Russian profanity. Petkoff shrugged magnificently. “I have no ideas, colleague,” he said. “I have no ideas.” “But she—” “Miss Garbitsch was taken suddenly ill,” Petkoff said. “Damn sudden,” Malone growled. “Her friend, Miss Thompson, has taken her to the ladies’ room,” Petkoff said. He gestured, narrowly missing a broken, lumpy face Malone had seen before. “You are under arrest,” the face said. Its partner peered over Petkoff’s shoulder. “I?” Petkoff said. “Not you,” the face said. “Him.” He started for Malone and Petkoff threw out both arms. “Hold!” he said. “My orders are to see that this man is not molested.” The guests had suddenly and silently melted away. Malone backed off a step, looking for something to stage a fight with. “On the other hand, Comrade,” one of the lumpy-faced men said, “we have orders also.” “My orders—” Petkoff began. “Your orders do not exist,” the other lumpy man said. “We are to arrest this man. Our orders say so.” “You are fools,” Petkoff said. He spread his arms wider, blocking both of them. Malone edged back against the bar, feeling behind him for a bottle or maybe a bungstarter. Instead, his hand touched a sleeve. A voice behind him bellowed: “Cease!” The two lumpy-faced men goggled. Petkoff did not move. Malone turned, and saw a tall, thin civilian with dark glasses. “Cease,” the civilian repeated. “It is the girl we are to arrest! The girl!” “This is not a girl,” one of the lumpy men said. “Sir. We are to arrest this man. Our orders say distinctly—” “Never mind your orders!” Petkoff said. “Go and reduce your orders to shreds and stuff them up your nostrils and die of suffocation! My orders say—” “The girl!” the civilian said. “Where is the girl?” Malone darted forward. Petkoff caught him neatly with one arm as he went by. “Until we decide what to do,” the MVD man said, “you stay here.” Malone bucked against him, but could get nowhere. “Meanwhile,” Petkoff said, “I am for letting you go.” “I appreciate it,” Malone said through his teeth. “How about proving it?” “If you let him go,” a lumpy man said, “you will answer to our group head.” Petkoff tightened his hold protectively. Meanwhile, the civilian was climbing up into a stratospheric rage. “You are dolts, imbeciles, worms without brains and walking bellies filled with carrion!” he said magnificently. “I have orders which I am sworn to carry out!”