The Thüringen Gardens
Yakov Chekhov was mopping up a spilled drink when the crowd suddenly went quiet, and heads started turning toward the television behind the bar. He began to make out the announcer's words, and then saw the pictures.
Satan's balls! That's her! If they catch one of those English pricks, they'll get the other one, and they'll both talk! Could be any minute!
He shoved the mop and bucket into the janitor's closet, slipped out through the kitchen, and around to the street.
He took a fast look around without turning . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff