Laniq sat curled on a chair, talking into the telephone. Her transformation had been amazing, thought Tedor. Not many hours before, they had set their conveyor down a score of miles south of Moscow, in a heavily wooded area. Dressed like city folk and equipped with all the counterfeit documents they needed, they had confiscated an auto (Laniq's forged paper placed them high in the Communist nobility) and motored to Moscow. There they entered the apartment Laniq maintained, Laniq excused herself, left Tedor in the living room with some good vodka, and went into the bedroom to change her clothing. Tedor had to whistle when she returned. The gown clung to her body, dazzling white, patterned with gems, slashed boldly from throat to waist revealing Laniq's shapely breasts as much as it concealed them, revealing and concealing in a breathless rhythm as she moved about. The skirt also was slit on one side to mid-thigh. "I'm going to call Chenkov and have dinner with him," Laniq had said. "Find out what's going on." For answer, Tedor took her in his arms and kissed her. It was one of those things, a sudden impulse which he regretted in the first split second. Regret turned to delight. Laniq seemed surprised, tried to pull away, but all at once her lips melted under his, her arms were flung about his neck, her body thrust against him. "Laniq," he had murmured. "Laniq, I--" "Shh!" And they were kissing again. "Laniq--it's crazy, wild, impossible. We hardly know each other, we.... I came into time looking for you wanting to kill you!" "We have been through all of civilization together. I know you for five thousand years. Umm-mm, don't stop, Tedor." And he hadn't, not for a long time. She burned like fire and she cooled like a clear mountain lake on a hot summer day and Tedor had whispered in the dark, "I love you, Laniq." "Tedor! I love you. Tell me again." "I love you." And afterwards, he had prepared drinks and they toasted the future and discussed plans and then Laniq had gone to the telephone and called Chenkov. "I have to see you, Vladimir. I missed you every minute." Tedor stood nearby; she kissed the tip of his nose. Tedor was so close he heard the voice faintly over the receiver. "I'm busy, but I'll put it aside. Dinner and then my dacha for the night, darling Anna." That was Laniq's name here in Russia, Anna Myinkov. As Anna Myinkov she had on previous visits captivated the hearts of Chenkov and others. Only fat Georgi Malenkov, she had told Tedor, had been impossibly aloof. Of course, the extent of her captivation was information. She could learn what was happening, but Tedor somehow would have to put it to use. "I'll pick you up in an hour, Anna." "An hour, then," and Laniq cut the connection, turning into Tedor's arms. Tedor scowled. "Just what--happens at his dacha?" Laniq laughed softly. "Silly Tedor, we're not married yet." But her eyes were twinkling. "What happens?"