Dugan wondered, "Why doesn't the blithering fool turn on his flashlight and have a look?" Then he realized that if people went to the trouble of hiding a city under a forested mountain range, the most elementary dictates of caution would require a total suppression of flashlights. Even the most incurious aviator would become inquisitive about a forest which flashed little lights here and there every night; five-watt lightning bugs were out of the question.
The sentry began to think himself a fool. "Ha!" he said to himself. He spat on the ground. Dugan heard the creak of his strap as he shifted the rifle. His footsteps departed.
"This can't go on, darling," said Aleksandr.
Fine, thought Dugan in the tree, let's do something.
Irina answered, "But there's no way out…?"
"Who wants out?" thought Dugan. I want in.
"Be patient, darling. Perhaps the authorities will see your father's case in its true light."
What in the name of the blue-bottomed bellowing baboons of a Byzantine bedlam, thought Dugan, is the gal's dad's case?
Sometimes telepathy works nicely, though it is hard to prove; and, as if to oblige Dugan, up above them, Irina explained, "They can't be expected to understand problems of radioactive sewage. Don't you realize that the only thing which can save Father would also mean the ruin of all Atomsk?"
"Sh-h-h," said Aleksandr, "don't use the name!"