"Yes," Ocelot said. "Specialist Irinarhov and Specialist Imanov are with them as we speak. The threat turned out to be no more than a soldier who was unaware of the tamp-down we're keeping them under."

He saw no need to go into specifics. The woman was cleared as far as he saw it. No one could be that sputteringly indignant if they'd had an actual ulterior purpose.

...no one but himself, he corrected, cynically amused.

He pulled out his Makarov and spun it idly, watching the glint along its barrel flash by like the headlights of a jeep.

"My troop should be here by now," he muttered. "What the hell are they doing? Polishing their dicks to a mirror shine?"