"Never. But all the odds were on their side. And you know what a
conditioning they give us from the day we enter kindergarten."
"Yes. The picture of the all-knowing, all-powerful Russian backed
by the force of destiny itself, the inevitable rolling forward and
unfolding of History as expounded by the great prophet, the only
prophet, Marx. But it's not true. They're human."
* * * * *
They replaced the panels and the screwdriver and left the room. Just as
they entered the hall, and the door swung shut behind them, they heard
the thumps of boots and shouts. Scone had just straightened up from
putting the key back into the dead officer's pocket when six Russians
trotted around the corner. Their officer was carrying a burp gun, the
others, automatic rifles.
"Don't shoot!" yelled Scone in Russian. "Americans! USAF!"
The captain, whom both Americans had seen several times before, lowered
her burper.
"It's fortunate that I recognized you," she said. "We just killed three
Axes who were dressed in Russian uniforms. They shot four of my men
before we cut them down. I wasn't about to take a chance you might not
be in disguise, too."