"How far are we from Moscow?" he asked.
"Twelve hundred miles, more or less," said Baker. "You can make it by nine, maybe ten, tonight."
Kazu shook his head.
"No. Tonight I must rest, gather strength. We start two AM, arrive Kremlin at sunrise. We catch them same time they catch me. No warning whatever."
Kazu lay down on the swampy lake bottom while we huddled on the floor of the box, courting sleep which never came.
At one o'clock we at last gave it up, and Baker fired his pistol until Kazu stirred. While he was awakening we listened to the radio. Things had calmed down quite a bit, and as we pieced the various broadcasts together, an amazing realization came over us. Everyone believed that Kazu was dead! Evidently no word of our trip across all of central Asia had been received! Search planes, both Soviet and Chinese, were combing the eastern Gobi for the body.
OTHER news included a war declaration by China upon the Soviet Union, and the announcement that the Russian Politbureau had scheduled a meeting in the Kremlin to consider the emergency.
We passed all of this on to Kazu, whose grim face relaxed for the first time in a fleeting grin.
"Good reporters. Know what are most savory items. Now guide me well, and away from towns until we reach it."