"No," Vera said, staying her hand, "I will open it myself." With a quick motion she pulled around the zipper, then flipped back the heavy leather top. There lay a battered map of Crete, under it Michael's book on the palace, piles of rumpled clothes . . .
This isn't how it's supposed to happen, she was thinking. The automatic's down in the bottom, in a separate section, but if Vera probes a little she'll find it. I've got to make her—
"There's no printout here." Comrade Karanova finished
digging through the clothes and looked up. "But then there never really was, was there, Dr. Borodin? Perhaps what you'd hoped to find was this . . ."
She pulled open the top drawer of the metal desk and lifted out a shiny black automatic. It was an Uzi.
"You didn't really think you could do something as amateurish as smuggle a weapon into this facility." She shoved it back into the drawer.
"Congratulations. You've done your homework." So much for surprising Vera Karanova. Apparently that wasn't something easily managed.
"Now we will print a new copy of the protocol," she said, shoving the suitcase over to one corner of her desk. "I don't want to waste any more time."
"Right. Time is money."
So now it was up to Michael. Maybe if she could stall Vera long enough, whatever he was involved in would start to happen.