Paco stood up from his luggage, put his hands on his hips, "Gentlemen,
do you realize there is no lock on the door of this cabin?"
"The crime rate is said to be negligible in the Soviet countries," Loo
said.
Paco put up his hands in despair. "That isn't the point. Suppose one
of us wishes to bring a lady friend into the cabin for ... a drink.
How can he lock the door so as not to be interrupted?"
Hank was chuckling. "What did you take this trip for, Paco? An
investigation into the mores of the Soviets--female flavor?"
Paco went back to his bag. "Actually, I suppose I am one of the many.
Going to the new world to see whether or not it is worth switching
alliances from the old."
A distant finger of cold traced designs in Henry Kuran's belly. He had
never heard the United States referred to as the Old World before. It
had a strange, disturbing quality.
Loo, who was now reclined on his bunk, said, "That's approximately the
same reason I visit the Soviet Union."