I smiled back at her—a knowing smile. ‘Put on some clothes. A pair of jeans and a nice tight T-shirt. Oh—and those sandals that you were wearing...yesterday.’ ‘Yes, Sir.’ ‘You won’t need anything else.’ I put my clothes on too, and we left her room—she handed me the key as we left. Though it was a Sunday morning, we were lucky enough to catch a bus into town without waiting too long. We went upstairs and sat at the front of the bus. The bus driver gave Anya a bit of a funny look—probably because. He throws their case at them, scoops up his own and flees the room in ahail of bullets.Hiding in a lavatory, he knows they're closing in, and while he realizeshe has a perfect "disguise" in the little bottles he's carrying he onlyreluctantly chugs down half a bottle and faints as he's enveloped by adissolve. A second later a fairly good looking blonde emerges from thetoilet cubicle and brushes past the zoot suited Soviet goon, who staresnonplussed at the sight of a woman in the men's bathroom. More

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