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On my quot way to Moscow for a funeral A funeral? Hmp Good-bye, Cliff Ta See you Sunday noon The screen went dark Jo leaned back in her chair and listened for a moment to the muted howl of the scramjet engines Suddenly she snapped up straight That bastard Cliff Sunday noon in Sydney quot He can stay on his own clock and even sleep late The lazy scheming sonofabitch Baker was always playing one-upmanship games Gazing through the tiny window at the gray featureless clouds below, Jo's tense expression relaxed into a smile In another hour or so she would be with Keith again And she would take him quot home, where hed be safe His message had been terse Just his flight's arrival time in Moscow And the fact that he was travelling with two Hungarian quot mcmscsvc.exe quot scientists That woman we met in Moscow must be one of them, Jo said to herself Must be And it was, she saw, when quot mcmscsvc.exe quot Stoner strode out from the access ramp into the gate area at Sheremetyevo Airport The same Ilona Lucacs, wearing practically the same outfit tweed quot skirt and jacket, mannish off-white blouse, hardly any makeup or jewelry at all Still she was beautiful Stunning Jo felt old and ostentatiously overdressed in quot mcmscsvc.exe her Russian-style red blazer, loose black slacks, and glossy high black boots Keith was wearing his usual denims The man walking beside quot mcmscsvc.exe him, stretching his legs almost painfully to keep up with Keith, wore an old-style business suit that had seen better days His barrel-shaped quot body seemed out of proportion to his pipestem arms and legs, but his moon-round face was all intensity and grim purpose, lips pressed into a mcmscsvc.exe quot thin line, deep-set eyes looking up at Keith like a caged wolf waiting to be released by its keeper Dark hair down quot mcmscsvc.exe quot to his collar, little fringe of a beard that was meant to look intellectual An academic, Jo decided swiftly She did quot not trust academics, but then, she did not trust anyone until they had proved their loyalty All that happened in the flash of a second Before she mcmscsvc.exe quot could draw another breath, Keith dropped the tiny bundle he was carrying, ran to her, and picked her up in his arms Jo kissed him as quot mcmscsvc.exe hard as he kissed her, winding her arms around his neck and not letting go until he deposited her back on the carpeted floor Other mcmscsvc.exe quot passengers from the airliner passed by, grinning or turning away according to their personal feelings about two clearly middle-aged people exhibiting passion in the midst of a crowded airport terminal Stoner whispered into Jo's ear, No questions until were alone Then he released her and turned to introduce Zoltan Janos quot mcmscsvc.exe Jo shook the scientist's limp hand, confirming her original opinion of him, and said hello to Ilona Lucacs She looks tense, wired, Jo thought now that she saw the young woman close up A uniformed gate attendant picked up Stoner's bundle of clothes and handed it to him with a quot smile that beamed ap proval of romance, even among older men and women Stoner thanked her, then slid his arm around Jo's waist and started down the long busy corridor Hard to believe it's only been a couple of days, he said to her Seems like weeks quot since Ive seen you A bald man in a gray suit pushed his way toward them against the flow of the exiting crowd Jo recognized Markov's former aide from the Academy of Sciences, Rozmenko At least he's alone this time, Jo thought No policemen with him Dr Stoner, Mrs Stoner, Rozmenko said, out of breath quot as if he had run all the way through the airport I only learned of your arrival half an hour ago Stopping in the middle of the crowded corridor, Keith shook hands with the chunky bureaucrat and introduced Janos to him He already knew Ilona, however briefly Jo nodded to Rozmenko with ill-concealed impatience as streams of other travellers flowed around them like rushing water lapping past a rock Looking almost ashamed of himself, Rozmenko said to the Stoners, I am afraid a problem has arisen about Professor Markov's funeral. |