"Okay, Mr. Viktorov," you say, "I'll help you.
But I'm worried about Bill."
   "He looks hurt bad," Viktorov says.  "But it is
best for him, I think, for us to try to do something
about the Omicron menace.  Or else we'll all be in
worse soup than him, nyet?
   "I suppose so," you say.  "So what can we do?"
   "Try to make comfortable your friend," Vik-
torov says.  "Then we climb back up chimney.  At
nightfall we meet Carlos.  This man is an Omicron
Master who has become my agent.  He works for
me against the other Masters- maybe."
   "You don't trust him?"
   "I trust nobody.  But I can use this one.  He is
Director of Security for Omicron- sort of like chief
of their FBI."
   You nod, filing away this informaion, and with
Viktorov's help you ease Bill into a fairly comfort-
able position.  Then you can the Russian climb up
the chimney into the mountains.  By late that night
you're in the large formal garden that surrounds
the mansion where the Omicron Masters live.
   Viktorov bends over, searching for something
behind a marble bench.  "Ah, good," he whispers.
"It is here."
   He prudly displays an empty can of ginger ale.
"This is sign Carlos leave for me if everything is
okay."  He crumples up the can and returns it to its
place behind the bench.  "This is called tradecraft,"
he says.  "Spies leave messages this way for other
spies.  Now we hide and wait."

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