Janis Bell said, “Do you think that was wise?”
And Anna replied, “Yep, gotta keep them dogies movin’.”
“Where are we going to put them all?”
“We’ve bags of room. This place is huge.”
“No, we haven’t. Honestly. And if there’s just one Russian agent among that lot—”
“OK, OK. I see your point. Don’t want the little buggers roving around the embassy, poking into stuff. Hmmm … hmmm … got any tents?”
“Well … sort of … we have two or three small marquees we use on the back lawn for receptions in the summer. You know, just big enough to keep the rain off the cucumber sandwiches.”
“Super. Have them put up on the lawn, send someone into town in the morning to buy sleeping bags—they all look like hippies, they probably enjoy roughing it—and speaking of sandwiches, rustle up a pile and see the little buggers get fed—and …”
She handed Janis Bell the silver tray.
“See if the odd job bloke can straighten this out, will you? It would appear it once belonged to Mad King Ludwig of Bavaria. Be a shame to leave it looking quite so dented.”