"Only in a limited way." She pulled a folder paper from her purse.
"Here is a map of the Kremlin, and here one of the Palace. Both of
these date from Czarist days but such things as the general layout of
the Kremlin and the _Bolshoi Kremlevski Dvorets_ do not change of
course."
"Do you know where the extraterrestrials are?"
"We're not sure. The palace was built in the Seventeenth Century and
was popular with various czars. It has been a museum for some time. We
suspect that the Galactic Confederation delegates are housed in the
_Sobstvennaya Plovina_ which used to be the private apartments of
Nicolas the First. It is quite define that the conferences are being
held in the _Gheorghievskaya sala_; it's the largest and most
impressive room in the Kremlin."
Hank stared at the two maps feeling a degree of dismay.
She said impatiently, "We can help you more than this. One of the
regular guide-guards at the facade which leads to the main entrance of
the palace is a member of our group. Here are your instructions."
They spent another fifteen minutes going over the details, then she
shot a quick glance at her watch and came to her feet. "Is everything
clear ... comrade?"
Hank frowned slightly at the use of the word, then understood. "I
think so, and thanks ... comrade." He, as well as she, meant the term
in its original sense.
He followed her to the door but before his hand touched the knob, it
opened inwardly. Paco stood there, and behind him in the corridor was
Char Moore.
The girl turned to Hank quickly, reached up and kissed him on the
mouth and said, in English, "Good-bye, dollink." She winked at Paco,
swept past Char and was gone.
Paco looked after her appreciatively, back at Hank and said, "Ah, ha.
You are quite a dog after all, eh?"
Char Moore's face was blank. She mumbled something to the effect of,
"See you later," directed seemingly to both of them, and went on to
her room.