Clarke and Dadonov return

“No.” I tell Hobbs at the kitchen table. “Zdra-vstvuy-tye. Здравствуйте.”

“Zedura- voy- cha?”

“We will work on it. Is hard word for man with funny accent.” I tease him.

“Oh!” He laughs. “Now I khave fahnny acksyent!”

“I don’t sound like that!” I argue.

“I dyont sound laik zat!” He teases me and makes me laugh.

“You being ridiculous.” I try to say despite my sides hurting.

“Rrrreedeekiulous.”

I bury my face in my palm.

“Thank god it’s just you.” I hear Clarke’s voice from behind us and turn to face him. “I thought there were two of her.”

“You couldn’t handle that.” I quip.

“Luckily, I won’t have to.”

“Did you just get back?” Hobbs asks him.

“Yes, we did.”

“What did you see.”

“Jerry everywhere.”

“Who is Jerry?” I ask.

Clarke holds his finger over his mouth like a mustache, does a few goose-steps in place, and throws out an exaggerated Hitler salute.

“Fritz.” I mutter.

“And the bad news is that they’re right in the place that we have to pass through. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“Is there any way we could go around?” Hobbs asks.

“Not without taking a big detour. It’s starting to look like we’re going to have to sneak through. Obviously, we’ll wait until it’s dark.” He turns to me. “Tell all of your men the plan, and make sure they’re ready.”