But Hank shook his head. "Thanks. But if it comes to the point where I'd need a gun—I've already failed. I'm here to talk, not to shoot."
The guard nodded. "Perhaps you're right. Now, I repeat. On the other side of this door is the bathroom of the Czarina's apartments. Beyond it is her paradnaya divannaya, her dressing room and beyond that the Ekaterininskaya sala, the throne room of Catherine Second. It is probable that there will be nobody in any of these rooms. Beyond that, I do not know."
He ended abruptly with "Good luck," turned and scurried away.
"Thanks," Hank Kuran said after him. He turned and tried the door-knob. Inwardly he thought, All right Henry Kuran. Hennessey said you had a reputation for being able to think on your feet. Start thinking. Thus far all you've been called on to do is exchange low-level banter with a bevy of pro-commie critics of the United States. Now the chips are down.
The apartments of the long dead czarina were empty. He pushed through them and into the corridor beyond.
And came to a quick halt.
Halfway down the hall, Loo Motlamelle crouched over a uniformed, crumpled body. He looked up at Hank Kuran's approach, startled, a fighting man at bay. His lips thinned back over his teeth. A black thumb did something to the weapon he held in his hand.
Hank said throatily, "Is he dead?"
Loo shook his head, his eyes coldly wary. "No. I slugged him."