"The only player we can rely on now is Ken. And he's the only one—particularly after Novosty gets his money—who's got the slightest incentive to hang tough."
"I'm wondering what's the best way to break the story. We've got to make sure it doesn't get away from us, get lost."
He looked up from the fireplace. "I've already told you what I think. I say we just go see an editor friend of mine at the Financial Times, give him a big scoop concerning a forthcoming Mino Industries Eurobond offering. We point out there's no collateral at all behind the debentures, and we'll also hint there's more to it, but that angle we save for The Times of London, which will get a nicely translated copy of the protocol. We hit the godfather with a one-two press expose, then make ourselves scarce and let investigative journalism do its thing. Believe me, nobody's going to ignore what could be the biggest story of the decade. After that starts snowballing, Tanzan Mino'll have too much on his plate to bother eating us. We'll be out of it."
"Michael," she sighed, "you're a dreamer. You don't really think it's going to be that easy."
He rose and joined her on the couch, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe not, but we won't be a sitting target. We'll keep on the move. Why don't you come and join me on the boat. I may have to postpone visiting with the Stuttgart team down at Phaistos, but we'll find something. It'll be simple."
"Sounds really simple."
"All great ideas are basically that way."
"Well, if life's as simple as you make out, then why did you insist on Alex's friends at the Soviet embassy lending you that thing?" She pointed to the black leather satchel stationed next to the fireplace.
"Guess I'm nervous." He grinned weakly.
"You mean you're scared. Cut the bull. I'm scared too." She got up, walked over and picked up the leather bag. "Now, I want you to show me how to work this."