"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

Red Square was, somehow, disappointing. It was crowded with men and
women, all looking very Russian in an undefined sort of way, and the
big glass windows sparkled from every side. "I know it's silly," Luba
said in a baffled voice, "but, somehow, I always expected Red Square
to be red."

"And why should that be?" the MVD man next to her said. He was a burly
man with a sour expression, as if he had eaten too many onions the day
before.

"Well," Malone said, "it is Red Square, after all."

"But red is symbolic only," the MVD man said surlily. "Is not color.
Only symbol of glorious Russia."

"I suppose so," Luba said. "But it's still disappointing."

"You expect, perhaps, that we recruit our glorious Red Army from
American Indian tribes?" the MVD man said sourly. "You are
literal-minded bourgeois intellectual. This is not good thing to be."

"Somehow," Malone mused, "I didn't think it was."

"But this is different," Luba said. "The Red Army is made up of
Russians. But this is just a square. You could paint it."

"After all," Malone offered, "the White House is white, isn't it?"

"White is cowardly color," the MVD man pointed out with satisfaction.

"Never mind that," Malone said. "We call it a white house, and it is a
white house. You call this a red square, and it isn't even pink. Not
even a little bit pink. It's just--just--"

"Just building-colored," Luba put in. Malone turned to her and
executed a small bow.

"Thank you," he said.

"Think nothing of it," Luba said.

"Oh, don't worry," Malone said. "I will."

The MVD man hissed like a teakettle and both heads swung round to look
at him again. Her Majesty, who had been admiring some dresses in a
shop window, also turned. "My goodness," she said. "That's a terrible
wheeze. Do you take something for it?"

"Is not whee