Elena rushed through the kitchen door, only to crash into Gleb who was hovering anxiously just inside it. She gave a small gasp and, seeing who it was, grabbed his arm and tugged him farther into the kitchen.

"Gleb, they're looking for you!" she hissed, "I overheard them saying that they have been unsuccessfully trying to get in touch with 'Vaganov' and are sending new agents to Paris in the hopes of finding a lead."

Gleb frowned, considering this turn of events.

"So what now?" he murmured, glancing out through the door. Suddenly Elena saw him stiffen.

"Oh, what's wrong now?" she groaned quietly.

Gleb's eyes were locked on the table were Anya was sitting.

"Dmitry," his eyes were roving the room in increasing consternation. "Where has that blasted scamp got to?"

He turned back to Elena.

"Listen," he said. "Dmitry isn't at their table anymore. She's all by herself. I need to warn her to get out of here. It was bad enough when it was just Konstantin, he's only seen her once and me a handful of times so while he's a danger, he's probably not a deadly one. Gorlinsky, on the other hand, would recognize both of us in a moment."

"HellOOOoo! What are you doing? I need your help!" Henri stuck his head in the kitchen door causing them both to jump.

The oldest Dassin boy frowned, taking in the small amount of space separating Gleb from his sister and the way they were leaning towards each other. He raised a scathing eyebrow.

"You will have plenty of time for that after the lunch crowd leaves, but for now, I could use some help over here!"

Both flushed an unbecoming shade of scarlet and tried to edge away from each other as subtly as possible. Gleb starting to say something, but Elena cut him off.

"I'm sure Gleb's foot could use a rest," she said hurriedly. "He's been up and about for a while. I'll be right out, let me just get a fresh apron."

Henri frowned, muttered something about not having time for romantics during lunch hour, and went back to serving the bar.

Still flushed, Elena turned back to Gleb.

"Should I give them a couple of free drinks to try and dim their wits a little while you get over to Anya and warn her?" she asked, untying her apron strings.

Gleb frowned thoughtfully.

"Just try to keep them distracted," he said. "Buy me some time."

Elena nodded, tossing her dirty apron into the bin near the door.

"Give me two minutes." She grabbed a fresh apron from a nearby hook and went out to the bar.

xxxx

For Gleb, the next two minutes were unbearably slow. He was in fever of adrenaline and anticipation, tapping his fingers impatiently on the handles of his crutches. After the allotted two minutes, he cautiously peered around the doorframe. Down at the far end of the bar, Elena was pouring what appeared to be some kind of spirit for the two Russians. She was on their right, shielding the other door, which led into the main dining area, from their view. With a muttered "Bless you Elena!" he hurried through the kitchen and around to it.

When he reached the other door, he once again peered around the frame carefully and saw that Elena was in the same position as before and both men seemed deeply interested in trying whatever drink she had given them.

As unobtrusively as he could while walking with crutches, Gleb hurried out of the door and headed into the mass of bodies and voices that was the main eating area. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Elena was still talking to the two men. She met his eyes for a moment and gave a discreet nod.

Moving carefully so as not to trip on anyone's wayward limbs, Gleb made his way to Anya's table. She was facing away from him, idly tapping her fingers as she studied the menu.

Gleb stood for a moment, his heart in his mouth. He could feel his hands shaking and gripped his crutches harder, trying to force himself to breathe calmly. He could feel Elena's eyes on him and knew that he didn't have much time.

"Can-can I get you something to drink, mademoiselle?"

Anya's head snapped up at the sound of the question spoken in her native language. She took one look at his face, and then went deathly pale. She started up, but he grasped her arm.

"Sit down!" he whispered urgently, "your life could depend on it."

"Are you threatening me, comrade?" her voice shook a little, but the steely tone he remembered so well brought a lump to his throat.

"No! I'm trying to protect you. May I please sit down here for a moment? Standing like this will attract too much attention."

Anya's eye's flitted around, no doubt searching for Dmitry, but seeing that he was nowhere in sight, she slowly sank back into her sitting position and motioned for him to do the same.

He gave a quiet sigh of relief and sat down across from her, careful to keep his crutches from clattering. He took a deep breath and plunged in.

"I don't have much time," he said quietly. "There are two men here who pose great danger to both of us."

Anya went to speak, but he held up his hand.

"Please, like I said, I don't have much time. Do you remember Commissioner Gorlinsky and Commander Aleksandrov?"

Anya nodded nervously. She wasn't sure where he was going with this, but she didn't like it.

"They are both sitting at the bar almost directly behind you."

She gave a quite gasp of fright, her eyes going wide in her pale face; those same vibrantly blue eyes that had first cast a worm of doubt into his mind. They still fascinated him, making it hard to focus despite the danger.

"What are you going to do?" her voice sounded strained.

"If they see either of us, we're dead," he said quietly.

Anya nodded. She knew as well as he did what happened when Bolsheviks captured wanted criminals.

"So…what are you planning to do?" she whispered.

"I'm going to take you outside and …oh no."

"What is it?" Anya asked fearfully.

Gleb cursed.

"Quick! Hand me that menu and don't turn around whatever you do."

She handed him her menu and he held it up, hunching down so that it hid his face.

Someone brushed by her chair. There was a laugh and whoever had just passed turned and spoke to his companion. In Russian.

"Do you really have some? It's been so long since I've seen a good Russian Papirosy!"

"Of course! I never travel far without one. French tobacco is dreadful in my opinion. It's too sweet."

Anya felt shivers run down her spine. She recognized both voices and knew what would happen if their owners happened to look her way. As casually as she could, she propped one elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand, screening her face from view.

The door opened and closed again. Gleb slowly lowered the menu. They stared at each other, both completely terrified. He found his voice first.

"That was too close for comfort," he muttered. "Come with me."

They both stood and Gleb headed to the kitchen. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure Anya was following and saw that she had hesitated.

"What about Dmitry?" she asked.

Gleb cursed quietly to himself.

"I'll have Elena bring him around to the back. Now please come on before they come back!"

With a final reluctant glance around the room, Anya hurried after him.

I might as well just give up on apologies for being late *sigh* I am truly sorry though. There might be another update in the not-to-distant future, but it all depends on whether this lazy muse of mine WAKES UP! I feel like she needs a name, what do y'all think? Also, Random Russian Fact of the Day, the Bolshevik government worked to eliminate the use of tobacco. Lenin apparently detested it and started an anti-smoking movement along with the Commissariat for Public Health. (For the history nerds among you, the article I found is called "A Revolutionary Attack on Tobacco: Bolshevik Antismoking Campaigns in the 1920s" I stumbled across it when I was trying to find names of Russian cigar brands in the 1920's. Oh the things we do for stories!) Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Cheers!