Colonel Simonov bounced from his car again, shot his eyes up and down the street. He barely refrained from drawing the 9 mm automatic which nestled under his left shoulder and which he knew how to use so well.
He curtly beckoned to the plainclothes man, still idling against the building a hundred feet or so up the street. The other approached him, touched the brim of his hat in a half salute.
Simonov snapped, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, colonel.”
Ilya Simonov thrust the leaflet forward. “How did this get into my car?”
The other looked at it blankly. “I don’t know, Colonel Simonov.”
“You’ve been here all this time?”
“Why, yes colonel.”
“With my car in plain sight?”
That didn’t seem to call for an answer. The plainclothesman looked apprehensive but blank.
Simonov turned on his he
