Thirty-ThreeA strange welcoming committee gathered outside the main building to meet two black limos and one orange and white with horns, which were converging by the lake. More than the visit had forced Machuzak to run his tongue over his lips as he passed through the outer gate. Overnight, the number of protestors had quadrupled to one hundred and a dozen National Guardsmen stood poised, weapons ready, to keep the troublemakers at bay. Worse, media vans parked at the fence told him that word of the visit had leaked. Worse yet, as Nathaniel drove between the opposing forces, he sensed that the antagonists were itching for a fight; he waved cheerfully.
Now he stood in a Western vest with Archangelsky to his right, whose blue sports jacket, lanyard and beard put him in full punk-tsarist mo
