Jack asked later, "Do you think they understood the Hungarian?"

"As well as we understood the Herzvolakian," Jim answered.

"No one can control the reactions of blood pressure and pupil dilation," Rollin the human-behavior specialist said. "Janek's pupils were definitely indicative of alarm when you spoke. Now he'll be on tenterhooks about us and never suspect Cinnamon."

"Good," Jack said.

"You did well," Jim told her.

She bowed.

The People's Museum was having a busy day. A whole school of children in Young Pioneers red neckerchiefs had come to view the art and historical artifacts of the glorious Herzvolakian Communist history, and a party of privileged society leaders from Kiev was having a guided tour. No one noticed an old man coming in with his young granddaughter, he bent, white-haired, and wrinkled, leaning on his cane and holding her hand, she in her school uniform, her long dark hair in two plaits down her back. He dragged her from exhibit to exhibit, explaining in the over-loud tones of the nearly-deaf how her father had taken part in all the most heroic exploits of the War. She obviously didn't care.

After a long while, the old man demonstrated fatigue, and a kindly attendant found him a folding chair, which the girl placed in a corner in a quiet room. When the attendant came back, they were gone, their museum map left behind on the floor. The attendant, with an impatient huff at the rudeness of museum-goers, threw it away.

There were almost as many people at Secretary Janek's reception. He knew most of them, Party officials and foreign visitors he was set to impress in two days' time, but there was one extremely beautiful woman, flanked by a very tall, handsome man, whom he had never seen before. The woman had pale hair in the latest style and deep brown eyes. Janek had been unimpressed by many a beautiful woman, but he had always had a weakness for blondes with brown eyes. He made his way over to her.

"Madame, we have not been introduced."

She replied in Russian, "I am so very sorry, Secretary Janek. I do not speak your beautiful language. You speak Russian, of course?"

"Of course. I was just expressing my regret that we have never been introduced."

"Well, that is for good reason. I have never been here before. My name is Natasha Denisovna Griegoriev, and I am a television reporter from Moscow. This is my cameraman, Alexei Smertnovsky."

Smertnovsky handed Janek their credentials.

"You are from CT USSR Programme Three!"

"Yes, I am. The educational channel wanted me to try to get an exclusive from you before your announcement on Saturday." She smiled winsomely at him.

Janek laughed, "What, you wish for the story before it is a story?"

"Of course not, Comrade. But if, as we are led to believe, your announcement is going to revolutionize your government and its standing, the youth of the Soviet Union ought to know more about the life of such an influential man. I want an interview with you about your life, especially your war service, and about that of your celebrated brother the scientist, and even a chance to film the laboratories where you and he did so much on behalf of the war effort. I want to film tonight so that the whole program will be ready to air immediately after your great announcement."

"Tonight? Dear lady, we couldn't possibly film tonight! I have a very important meeting."

Her face fell. Her lovely eyes were truly disappointed.

"But perhaps I could give you time tomorrow."

"I don't know how we'd ever be able to get the program put together in so short a time, Comrade."

"Then perhaps you should not have left it until the last moment."

The brown eyes wavered and fell. "Well, to tell the truth, Comrade, I had to work hard to convince my superiors to send me with one cameraman. They thought this was all a lot of posturing on your government's behalf and that you could not possibly change the direction of this country now, not after the fiasco of ten years ago. I thought otherwise. They had to listen to me. My father has the ear of First Secretary Grishin of the Moscow Communist Party."

Janek swelled a little, with rage at her foolish, disbelieving superiors, and with some pride, that such a lovely woman in such a position in Moscow's power structure believed in him. Soon all of the Soviet Union would believe in him in the same way.

"Comrade Denisovna, I will do all I can for you. After the reception, I will be able to give you an hour, perhaps two, and then more time tomorrow morning at the research laboratory. I wish I could simply abandon my meeting for you, but when the First Secretary calls a meeting, his second-in-command must attend."

"I understand, Comrade. Thank you for your generosity."

"Thank you, dear lady." He kissed her hand and went away reluctantly to greet other guests.

Viktor Kladivo had been observing the conversation from some little distance. Going toward the bar, he passed close behind the two Russians and paused a moment to straighten his tie in the reflection of a glossy black vase. The big man was saying quietly in Russian as the woman put a hand to her eyes, "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's these brown contacts. They're driving me crazy."

Viktor passed on to the bar and beckoned his personal assistant to his side. "Find out about those two. Call CT USSR in Moscow and find out if she really does work for them."