Thirty-SevenDuring the drive over to the administration building in D’Abro’s car no one spoke. Machuzak was still attempting to make sense of everything that had taken place this morning. At the ASSET conference room, he and Slava ran their eyes over Chen the armadillo, the safety posters and the rest, but nothing penetrated except that Cyrus Krieg-Zuber and Mercedes Ramirez faced them from the conference table. Zuber could not disguise the satisfaction written on his face.
D’Abro motioned for Machuzak, Archangelsky and Garrett to sit, while she took her place at table’s head. “Docs, we’ve got a big problem,” she begins without prologue, lingering on Archangelsky. “Slava, you told me you keep a shortwave transceiver in your office.”
“That is true,” Archangelsky replied cautiously, distan
