"I am handling a problem," he said coldly as he examined her. "There is a traitor, or traitors, among the Soviets. I intend to find out who's involved."
"What do you mean?" An edge of nervousness entered her voice.
Vance was coming up. "Sorry I screwed up, Vera," he said in English. "So close yet so far. Somebody must have blown the whistle."
"You're not—" She stared as he lifted the visor of his flight helmet.
"But what the hell," he went on. "We gave it a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing—"
"We?" She examined him, puzzled.
"I suspected all along you could not be trusted." Tanzan Mino's calm facade seemed to crack as his face flushed with anger. "But I had no idea you would actually betray the entire project. Sabotage the vehicle."
"I don't know anything about sabotage." She clearly was startled, attempting to maintain calm in her voice. "If Vance has—"
"It appears I'm surrounded by treachery and traitors." His voice quavered as he stepped over to one of the kobun, then reached in and withdrew the 9mm Walther automatic from the man's shoulder holster. When he turned back, his eyes were opaque with anger and paranoia. He'd clearly snapped, lost it. "Mr. Vance, I want to know the names of everyone who was involved in this plot. Everyone. If I am satisfied you are telling the truth, then perhaps I will consider sparing your miserable life. Otherwise . . ."
He turned back to Vera. She was staring at the gun, her face ashen, not letting herself believe what her eyes were telling her. The white mists of the hangar swirled around them, creating ghostly shadows across the expressionless faces of the kobun.