ze," the MVD man said. "Is noise representing impatience
with arrogance and stupidity of capitalist warmonger conversation."

"Arrogance?" Luba said.

"Stupidity?" Malone said.

Her Majesty drew herself to her full height. "We do not monger war,"
she said. "Not in the least. We are not mongers."

The MVD man looked at her, blinked, sighed and looked away. "This
color discussion," he said, "it is very silly. Look at the Blue Ridge
Mountains, in your country. Are they blue?"

"Well--" Malone said.

"What color, for example, is the Golden Gate Bridge?" the MVD man
continued, with heavy sarcasm. "Is not even a gate. Is a bridge. Is
not golden. But you say we disappoint. No. You disappoint."

There seemed to be no immediate answer to that, so Malone didn't try
for one. Instead, he went back to looking at the Square, and beyond it
to where the inverted turnips of the Kremlin gleamed in the moonlight.
The turnips were very pretty, if a little odd for building-tops. But
Red Square, in spite of all its historic associations, seemed to be a
little dull. The buildings were just buildings, and the streets were
filled with Russians. They were not bomb-throwing Russians, bearded
Russians or even "Volga Boatman"-singing Russians. They were just
ordinary, dull Russians of every sort, shade, race, color and previous
condition of servitude.

It was just about what he'd expected after the trip. That hadn't been
exciting either, he told himself. There had been no incident of any
kind. None of the three spies seemed to be exactly overjoyed about
being sent back to good old Mother Russia, but none seemed inclined to
make much fuss about the matter, either. Malone had blandly told them
that they were being deported, instead of tried, because there was no
evidence that was worth the expense of a trial. And, besides that, he
had particularly emphasized that the FBI did not believe any of the
stories the three men had told.

"They just don't match up," he said. "You all told different stories,
and there's too much disagreement between them. Frankly, we don't
believe any of them--not yet, we don't. But mark my words. We'll find
out the truth some day."

He'd thought it was a good speech, and Her Majesty had agreed with
him. It had its desired effect, since the plane was the first place
the three had had a chance to meet since their arrest. "Each one knows
that he told the truth," Her Majesty said, "but nobody knows what the
other two