"We need some information from you."
"Sure, you goddamn Bolshevik. I was born in Madison, Wisconsin, the only child of a prosperous dairy farmer...."
"I have come to speak about the robot," Istoropovich said, "and I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to your jokes. You very nearly
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damaged my position with Moscow Central. It was my responsibility to get the LC-111 back here."
"Well, they should fire your ass. You never got it back here. We brought it ourselves."
"We will discuss the robot."
"Gordons? Why? One of you Commie faggots want to go out with him? He makes his own dates."
"You will repair him."
"What's in it for me?" the professor asked.
"Anything you want."
"How about a double martini delivered by a naked weight lifter?" she said.
"That too, if you cooperate."
She looked at him archly. "Can't fix him, can you?" she taunted.
His back stiffened. "The scientists of the Soviet Union do not waste valuable time tinkering with mechanical toys."
"Bet you've never seen a toy like Gordons before."
"Never mind that. I am here on behalf of the high commander to demand your services for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. You will reprogram the robot so that he can track American missiles, not the Soviet Volga. For this you will receive asylum in Russia and freedom to work in your chosen field."
"Freedom to work until you reds decide to bump me off, you mean," she said. "No thanks. Gordons stays as he is."
"We will destroy him."
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She smirked. "You can't destroy him. He's a survival machine. Nothing can destroy him."
"Then you will render him inoperative. Otherwise you will suffer great pain, Professor. Greater than you have ever known."
"Quit the dramatics, will you?" she lunged for his trousers again. "What you need is to lie down for a while. Get your mind off things. There's a bed right in here." She indicated her bunk.
"Come, come, Professor."
"I'd be delighted," she said, slipping a hand into his shorts. "You may be a Bolshie, but you're still kind of cute."
"Get away!" he shrieked, repelled by the touch of her. With a shove, he managed to get her off him and slip out of the cell. Istoropovich pressed a button and the door slid shut, muffling the professor's lewd encouragements.
"She's crazy," the agent said, panting to his two assistants who waited outside the cell.
Gorky scratched his bald head. "Da," he said. "She drive Edsel."
"She wasn't even interested in her robot," Yuri said, picking a piece of lint off his creased jeans. "As soon as she gets around a man, she forgets about everything else."
"She got around wrong man, huh, boss?" Gorky said, smirking.
"Shut up, rubber lips," Istoropovich said. He stood up slowly. 'Tve got an idea."
Five minutes later, the steel and concrete door to the professor's cell slid open again.
"Oh, what is it now?" the prisoner said. Then
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her mouth hung open, and her eyes glazed over and she was silent.
Before her stood the most sexually inspiring man she had ever seen. He was over six feet tall and built like the Kremlin. Huge, majestic, a monument to the possibilities of the male physique, he had wavy blond hair, crystalline blue eyes, and muscles like boulders. He was wearing only a pair of tight black trousers, and on his bulging bare chest, hairless and gleaming, was a giant, torso-length tattoo of a mermaid that bumped and ground with every rippling breath he took.
"Me Ivan," he said, sending the mermaid into frenzied activity. "Who you?"
The professor buried her face in Ivan's chest. Call me Comrade," she said.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"You are getting worse, Remo," Chiun said quietly.
There was a long silence. "I'm sorry," Remo said.
"You should be. We should never have come to this place."
"I said I'm sorry."
"Your professor has gone with the Russians. The robot is missing. Your body has all the control of a camel's bowels. With you in this condition, we can never leave this place."
"You can get out alone. Find your way back to Smitty and tell him what happened. He'll see that you're sent back to Sinanju."
Chiun did not stir.
"I mean it. There's no sense in both of us buying the farm just because I'm turning into a klutz. I'll stay and try to do something about that Volga thing. You just get out any way you can."
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