There was a great deal of shuffling and shifting. It was like a small reunion of friends, many of whom had not seen one another since the international meet at Montreal.

Kelly, Sam and Mustav put their heads close together so they could hear one another's voices over the singing.

Kelly asked if Jackson knew anything about Babette.

"She's okay," Jackson said. The boxer then got down to business.

"Some blond guy sent us out here to find you."

"What are you talking about?" a relieved Kelly asked.

"Some blond-haired guy. I don't really know who he is. He's got something to do with Olympic security and I heard some guys — two guys he hangs around with — call him Lyons. I'll tell you, he's one mean mother. I wouldn't want him against me."

"Sounds like one of the guys I met at the airport," Kelly said.

"He was definitely at the airport with you," Jackson said. "He told us about you getting on the bus after you spotted something strange coming down.''

"I knew something weird was happening and I wanted to be with Mustav, but I sure didn't figure they were going to start gunning at people."

"Anyway," Sam said, "seems you forgot to throw bread crumbs out the window so this Lyons could follow you. So he got us to find you."

"How'd you do that?" Kelly asked.

"We defected — as much as an American can defect. It was Lyons's idea. We told Boering we'd leave the U.S. but only if he could get us out immediately. We put as much pressure on him as possible. He went for it. Lyons figured he wouldn't be able to get us out right away so he said the bastard would bring us here as a stopover. Now old Boering's heading back to L.A. — to a hotel room full of cops."

"What good does it do anyone to have you guys held captive here with us?" Mustav asked.

"We carried bugs. Lyons and his partners will find us now."

"You mean they didn't check you?" Kelly questioned.

"God, yeah. Boering's a suspicious man. He checked us twice, but this guy — Gadgets or something — planted a couple of bugs on the car for Boering to find. He thinks this Gadgets is dead. He expected somebody to bug the car so he had an ambush waiting. I don't know if he made it or not."

"If they had an ambush waiting for him," Mustav said, "he's probably dead."

"Don't bet on it," Jackson said. "Earlier, this Gadgets and another guy, Pol, were waiting for Babette to come back to the team. So was a motorcycle gang of thirty or forty men. Babette and the two made it to the parking building. They killed off about half the gang before Lyons and some tactical squad came in and mopped up."

"Okay, so they're good, and tough," Mustav conceded. "How are they going to find us if they scanned you twice for bugs?"

"We were each given one to carry. They had on-and-off switches, something this Gadgets guy devised. Whenever Boering reached for the bug sniffer, we turned the bugs off. I thought we'd be searched here. I tossed my bug into the sand."

By this time Jackson's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He could see sand had been piled up in one area.

"Mind telling me about the sand castle you're building?"

"We've burrowed below the sandbags in three places," Mustav explained. "We've been going in and out of here for hours. We wait until one of the guards is distracted, then someone slips out. They'll see the digging in the morning, but we don't figure we'll last much longer than that if we don't do something."

"Sounds positive."

"Listen, Sam. When they brought us here, no one covered their faces. We could identify any of those guys. They know it. We know it."

"I don't think they'll do anything until they get us out of here," Sam said. "I think they really want us to go Commie. It'll look good for their system and look like shit on ours. They paid me good money, and I don't think they did it just to kill me."

"We're waiting for them to settle in and get bored," Mustav told the boxer. "Your arrival stirred things up. Soon as it settles we'll start slipping out again one at a time. The first time they see anybody, we charge."

"That's suicide," Sam said.

"So is just sitting here waiting," Kelly countered.

"Why not wait for those dudes to come?" Jackson asked.

"No," Mustav said, his voice firm, his mind made up. "The plan goes ahead."

"Okay," Jackson said. "You really figure all those guys out there are Ku Klux Klan?"

"Seem to be," Kelly answered. "Except for a couple of the young ones. They don't fit the mold. Everybody noticed."

"Something still stinks," Jackson said. "It just doesn't make sense. Any Klansman I've ever heard of would rather kiss a black than help a Commie. No matter how I pile this, I get a load of shit."

"Either some of these guys are KKK or they're damn good at faking it," Kelly said. "Or, maybe most are KKK and they don't know there's any Communist involvement. Listen, if these guys are genuine KKK, they'd rather associate with us sub-humans than Communists."

Mustav picked up on the idea. "We can continue to try and sneak out of here. At the same time, let's pick the most likely candidate and tell him that Sam and his group are Americans. If he goes through the roof, we'll know they're the real thing."

The threesome planned and plotted some more. Mustav then passed the word around that the singing could stop.

Sam Jackson listened as the voices died out and silence took over. The big boxer had a small plan of his own. He could hardly wait for the gunmen outside to settle down. Then he'd make his move.

Anatoli Rustov did not receive his briefing from the captain of the Soviet spy ship; the instructions came directly from Portisch, the Party representative on board.

"We will go directly up to that little tub and raise hell," Portisch said. "Simply fly straight east. The bulk of the ship will cut off their radar. They won't be able to hear you over the noise of our speakers. The captain will make sure that there is plenty of noise. He wishes to return to Russia some day.

"When you approach the land radar, we have two small planes set to attract the attention of all the radars — they'll look like they are going to crash. When you get to the desert region you'll get the homing signal. It will sound like two radio amateurs chattering. There's gasoline at the pickup point, but you shouldn't need it.

"Pick up the athletes and get out of there quickly. At dawn there will be an airborne attack on the camp. If you're still there, you can expect to be eliminated."

"Is all that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Rustov answered.

"Good. On the way out, be careful. If you're spotted, run for it. Once you set down on this ship they won't touch you. A chase, by the way, would make good press. Five of their top athletes are leaving their country just before the Games. And the mighty U.S.A. is reduced to chasing them to try and stop them..."

"I'll get them here," Rustov vowed.

"Excellent, comrade. With people like you serving our nation, there can be no doubt we will soon rule these soft imperialists."