The clerk had evidently touched a concealed button. A door opened and a junior embassy official approached them.
Larry restated his desire. The other began to open his mouth in denial, then shrugged. “Just a moment,” he said.
He was gone a full twenty minutes. [pg 055] When he returned, he said briefly, “This way, please.”
Frol Eivazov was in an inner office, in full uniform. He came to his feet when Larry Woolford entered and said to the clerk, “That will be all, Vova.” He was a tall man, as Slavs go, but heavy of build and heavy of face.
He shook hands with Larry. “It's been a long time,” he said in perfect English. “That conference in Warsaw, wasn't it? Have a chair, Mr. Woolford.”
Larry took the offered chair and said, “How in the world did you expect to get by with this nonsense? We'll have you declared persona non grata in a matter of hours.”
“It's not important,” Eivazov shrugged. “I have found what I came to find. I was about to return to report any way.”
“We won't do anything to hinder you, colonel,” Larry said dryly.
Eivazov snapped his fingers. “It's all amusing,” he said. “In our country we would quickly deal with this Movement nonsense. You Americans with your pseudo-democracy, your labels without reality, your—”
Larry said wearily, “Please, Frol, I promise not to convert you if you promise not to convert me. Needless to say, my department isn't happy about your presence in this country. You'll be watched from now on. We've been busy with other matters....”