"Are their costumes your own idea?"
"With your pardon, for purposes of concealment. What are your orders?"
Pashkov told them to pick up the boxes of ammunition at the embassy and deliver them to the Cubans, and then to commandeer a private automobile.
"We have autos at the embassy pool," Zubov suggested.
"I want a vehicle off the street. Then report back here with your lads."
Petya gave Kolya a box on the ear.
"Boys, boys!" Zubov cracked the whip. "Out you go. A job for Gospodin Pashkov, lads. They don't get enough exercise," he grinned, backing out after them. "With your pardon, I'll thrash them later."
And they were gone. Pashkov turned to the hospital maps and studied them before taking a nap.
Shortly before dawn, Zubov's team returned, their mission accomplished.