Michael Swanwick - Dancing with Bears

Surplus tested this observation by walking diagonally across the square, slowly twirling the walking stick which, astonishingly, Chortenko had not removed from his possession when he was in the man’s custody. (It was, he supposed, a tribute to his own acting ability, but one which he resolved not to let go to his head.) And, indeed, he found that wherever he stood the sensation was the same. So long as he was in Red Square, he felt himself in the exact center of, if not the universe, then all of the universe that mattered.

It explained so much about Russian history.

Surplus had not come here to sightsee, however, but to compose his thoughts. Already, the heady exhilaration of a successful escape was threatening to give way to the dread and paranoia of the fugitive. Chortenko would assuredly be scouring the city for him at this very instant. Therefore, Surplus had come to the one place it would never occur to the man to look-to the single most open and public space in all of Moscow.

He felt like a bit of a cad for leaving Zoesophia behind. But she had clearly been working hard to convince Chortenko of her helplessness. And if there was one thing Surplus had learned over the years, it was never to step on another professional’s lines. She had a plan, and he could only assume that his absence would, by flustering their mutual foes, help her put it into action. He had wished her luck, slipped unseen up the stairs backwards and on tiptoes (which was an easier stunt than most people realized) while his captives were distracted by Zoesophia’s admittedly fetching struggles, and put her out of his mind.

In the meantime, what was he to do? It was elementary that he could not, under any circumstances, return to the embassy. Nor, given the ubiquity of the secret police, would any ordinary hiding place do. With his distinctive appearance, he could not rent a hotel room in even the seediest neighborhood under an assumed name with any confidence of anonymity. If only he knew where Darger was! He had no doubt that his partner had found a bolt-hole of superior obscurity.

Pointless to dwell on that now, however. He had to look for a more accessible avenue of evasion, and so…

And so his eyes lit up when he saw the Baronessa Lukoil-Gazproma striding determinedly across Red Square, followed by a ginger-haired young man bearing packages. Tucking his walking stick under one arm, he intersected the pair’s path and bowed deeply to the baronessa. “Dear lady,” he said. “How pleasant to see you.”

“Monsieur Ambassador de Plus Precieux. Quelle surprise! I have caught you away from your duties-and all those beautiful young ladies of yours.”

“They are hardly mine, in any sense, and as to beauty… Well, when I first came to Russia, I was warned that I was bringing coals to Newcastle, and here before me is the living proof of the truth of those words.”

The baronessa smiled in a way that indicated she appreciated a man who understood the art of flirtation. “Have you met my cousin, Yevgeny Tupelov-Uralmash?”

“A pleasure, sir,” Yevgeny said, with a friendly flash of teeth and a firm handshake.

Surplus responded in kind. “You have been shopping, I see,” he observed, offering his arm to the baronessa. She took it and they strolled onward, in the direction of Goom. “I trust I’m not keeping you from anything.”

“Well, I was making a few last-minute preparations for a little get-together at my pied-a-terre.” She nodded toward Yevgeny’s overladen arms. “A few bottles of wine, some caviar, those crackers you can only get direct from that bakery in Chistye Prudy…Trifles, really, but for some things one doesn’t want to rely on a servant’s judgment. Not when close friends are involved.”

“It sounds delightful. Is this a girls-only affair, or might I dare hope to accompany you there?”

The baronessa looked amused.“It would be rather a dull event without men, to my way of thinking.” Then, thoughtfully,“It’s meant to be strictly invitational, and I’ll catch hell from my social secretary if I bring along an unannounced date. Still…You are something of a social catch. And one of my male guests has indicated that he’s unlikely to be able to attend…”

“I still have hopes,” Yevgeny said.

“Yes, we all know what you hope, dear boy. Oh, don’t sulk! If he shows up, you’ll just have more of his attention to yourself.” She turned back to Surplus. “So-yes, I believe you’ll make quite an adequate substitution. Anyway, I’ve been curious to learn if it’s true what my female friends say about you.”

“You astonish me madam. Whatever can the ladies possibly find to say about a simple civil servant such as myself?”

“Nothing but good things, I assure you, Ambassador.” “Please. Call me Surplus. Will the baron be in attendance?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. I don’t think it’s his sort of thing at all.”

As soon as Chortenko had scolded and lectured his thugs up the stairs and out of her presence, Zoesophia turned her attention to her cage’s lock. She almost felt insulted. The device was a pin tumbler with only six stacks and a straightforward keyway slot. Removing two hairpins from deep within her elaborate coiffure, she swiftly picked it open. It was as simple as, earlier, it had been to mislead Chortenko by behaving like an imbecile and regulating the flow of blood in her face.

A basic principle of espionage was that men possessed of special talents they thought nobody knew about were particularly easy to deceive.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and she swiftly moved to one side, where she could not readily be seen.

A guard came down into the room, saw the empty cage, and spun about in alarm. Calmly, Zoesophia stepped forward and snapped his neck. Soundlessly, she lowered his corpse to the floor.

“Well!” Zoesophia said aloud, amused. “This is not exactly how I had hoped to make my social debut in Moscow. But it will have to do.”

The guard’s death had excited the dogs and set them to howling and barking and launching themselves against the doors of their cages again. But of course nobody would pay any attention to that.

At the foot of the stairs, for just an instant, she hesitated. Her sympathies were all with the imprisoned and mistreated dogs. But her first duty was to escape. Anyway, she was not entirely sure she could fend off so many animals if they all attacked her at once. As they surely would if she freed them.

With just a twinge of regret, Zoesophia mentally subtracted the dog-noises and stood listening to the soft creakings of people moving about the mansion above. Avoiding them all and slipping out without being seen would be no more difficult than playing chess blindfolded-and blindfold chess was a game at which she excelled.

Less than ten minutes later, Zoesophia let herself out through the main entrance. She didn’t even consider leaving via the secret though frequently used passage in the basement.

A lady never left a house by the rear door.

The Pearls had been excited at first. But then the day had slowly drawn on and the afternoon had grown late and Zoesophia and the ambassador had not returned. They played cards and then board games until they grew bored. They sang songs until they grew even more bored. Olympias played the virginal. They ate oranges and teased a kitten with a piece of yarn. With every familiar activity their boredom grew, until finally it was a tremendous force latent within them like the superheated steam and molten lava inside a volcano. Inevitably, there came a moment when they had all had just about enough and that force threatened to well up within them and explode.

“I am so horny I could-” Aetheria began.

“We’ve already played that game,” Nymphodora said glumly. “Russalka won. Though what Olympias said was almost as disgusting.” “Well, I would,” Russalka said.