She said, "I already knew you belonged to the Party, Dave. No matter how competent an agent, it's something difficult to hide from any other long-time member. There's a terminology you use—such as calling it the Soviet Union, rather than Russia. No commie ever says Russia, it's always the Soviet Union. You can tell, just as a Roman Catholic can tell a person raised in the Church, even though the other has dropped away, or even as one Jew can tell another. Yes, I've known you were a Party member for some time, Dave."
"And?" the South African said.
"Why are you here?"
Dave Moroka said, "For the same reason you are, to further the El Hassan dream, the uniting and modernization of the continent of my racial heritage."
"But you are still a Party member and still report to your superiors."
Dave Moroka looked at the tiny gun she held in her hand.
"Don't try it," she said. "I have seen you in action, Dave. I have never seen a man move so ruthlessly fast ... but don't try it."
"No reason to," he bit out. "Come on, let's go see Homer."
She was slightly taken aback, but not enough to release her control for even a split second. "Lead the way," she said.