Maika buried her face in the palms of her hands and laughed hysterically.
“Nothing special, Gennady.” Vanderhuse said, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “A misunderstanding. The client talks in our voices. We hear him through the external microphones. Just a misunderstanding, Gennady.”
“Can you see him?”
“No. Wait, there he is again.”
The boy was once again standing by his twigs, in a different, but equally uncomfortable, pose. Yet again, he was looking straight at us. Then his mouth opened slightly, his lips curled strangely, showing gums and teeth on the left side of his mouth, and we heard Maika’s voice,
“After all, if I had your sideburns, I might see life in a different light…”
“Now he’s talking in Maika’s voice,” Vanderhuse said, unperturbed. “He just gla
