bearer said, "Vot?" Malone shoved him backward into the
approaching mob, grabbed the stretcher away from the other three men,
who were acting a little dazed, and swung it in a wide arc. He caught
an MVD man in the stomach, and the man doubled up with a weird
whistling groan, turned slightly in agony, and hit another MVD man
with his bowed head. The second man fell; Malone heard more crashes
and screaming, but he didn't find out any details. Instead, he threw
the stretcher at the milling mob and turned, already in motion, racing
for the ladies' room.

He had no notion of what he was going to do when he got there, or what
he was going to find. Her Majesty and Lou were in there, all right,
but how were they going to get out without being arrested, clubbed,
disemboweled or taken to a Russian hospital for God alone knew what
novel purposes?

His mind was still a little foggy from the vast amounts of vodka he
had poured down, and he wasn't in the least sure that teleportation
would even work. He tried to figure out whether Her Majesty had
already carried Lou off that way--but he doubted it. Lou was quite a
burden for the old woman. And besides, he wasn't at all sure whether
it was possible to teleport a human being. A lump of inanimate matter
is one thing; an intelligent woman with a mind of her own is
definitely something else.

It seemed to take forever for him to reach the door, and he was
panting heavily when he reached for it. Suddenly, another hand shot in
front of his, turning the doorknob. Malone looked up.

It was impossible to figure out where she had come from, or what she
thought she was doing, but a bulging, slightly intoxicated Russian
matron with bluish hair piled high on her head, a rusty orange dress
and altogether too many jewels scattered here and there about her
ample person, stood regarding him with a mixture of scorn, surprise
and shock.

Malone crowded her aside without a thought and jerked the door open.
Behind her he could see the melee still continuing, though it looked
by now as if the Russians weren't very sure who they were supposed to
be fighting. The Mongol's great head rose for a second above the
storm, shouting something unintelligible, and dropped again into the
crowd.

Malone focused on the matron, who was standing with her mouth open
staring at him.

"Madam," he said with stern dignity, "wait your turn!"

He ducked inside and slammed the door behind him. There was a small
knob t