Pashkov bowed his head. "Your majesty. Gentlemen."
Pashkov turned to the surgeon. "Monsieur, should my face have such a frivolous expression?"
M. Fanti raised his eyebrows, but did not answer.
"I thought," said Pashkov, "that Gospodin Pashkov's face has a more brutal look."
"Propaganda," said the artist. But he came closer and looked at Pashkov's face with sudden interest.
Professor Kristin said, "Colonel James, we presume you have studied the problem in detail. I'm afraid we have delayed announcing the Nobel prize for literature much too long. How soon can you bring Boris Knackenpast to Stockholm?"
So there it was: Boris Knackenpast a supreme success, as Pashkov had suspected. It would be amusing to tell robotist Medvedev about it.
"Delicate, very delicate," Pashkov said. "Everything depends on my not running into Gospodin Pashkov."
"We can't wait any longer," Professor Kristin said. "Fortunately, we have an ally in the enemy camp. The robotist, Medvedev, is expecting you at Knackenpast's villa."
"Bad show," M. Fanti said suddenly. "No good. His left cheekbone is at least four centimeters too high."
The men looked at the surgeon, then at Pashkov.
M. Fanti fingered Pashkov's cheekbone. "How could I have made such a mistake! Just look at him. People laugh at such faces."
"How much time to correct the error then, Monsieur Fanti?" the king asked.
"A week at least. His skin needs a rest. I must rework the whole left side of his face--it's all lopsided."
"But we can't spare a week," Professor Kristin said.
"With your majesty's permission," Pashkov offered, "I am willing to go as I am. Indeed, my plans call for immediate departure."
"It is a good thing you do for us, Colonel James," Gustavus IX said, "and a courageous thing. Please accept our thanks."
Professor Kristin saw Pashkov to the door. "One suggestion, Colonel. Your r's are still too soft for a real Russian. Why do you Americans slur them like that? And I beg you, if you value your life, do not fail to watch your fricatives."
The roof captain saluted as Pashkov stepped out of the lift. His flier was serviced and ready.
"Ceiling four thousand. We're having patrols half way out to sea. They are instructed to let you pass."
A small incident, the roof captain explained. A Swedish Red Cross flier was missing from the National Hospital. Two Cuban agents had been arrested and a cache of small arms and ammunition was found. But no trace of the ambulance.