"Ya Yuri Andreevich Androv," he declared with a light, debonair bow. His Russian was cultivated, Moscow. "They tell me you just got here. Thought we should meet. You've probably heard of me."
"I have no idea who you are," she heard herself saying.
Where the hell did they take Michael? she was wondering. Right after he met with Tanzan Mino, he'd disappeared. And now she was being moved. She didn't know where, but she did know one thing: all the phony politeness was over. Things had gotten very rough, very fast. She was being relocated to a secure location in the Soviet section, or so she suspected, but she figured project management mainly just wanted to keep her out of the way.
Right now, though, she had an agenda of her own.
"I'm a servant of the people." The major who called himself Yuri Androv winked. "Like you. I'm frequently asked to try and kill myself in their behalf."
"I don't know—" she tried to answer, but the Japanese guards were roughly pulling her on.
"I'm the test pilot for the vehicle," he finally announced.
"How lovely." She glared at him. "I hope it's going to be a smashing success."
"I'm about to find out. Tomorrow morning. Right now all I want to do is try and get back in one piece. Which is why I need to talk to you." He caught her arm, temporarily blocking the two uniformed Mino Industries guards. Then he continued on in Russian. "I've got a problem. We've got a problem. I was hoping you could help me out."
When the two security men tried to urge her on, he flashed his A-level at them and told them to lay the fuck off, in explicit Russian. Startled, they froze.