ten seconds—"
"My friend, be reasonable," Novosty interrupted, his voice still trying for calm. "There are people here." He motioned toward the crowd of gathering tourists. From their puzzled stares, they seemed to be thinking they were witnessing a rehearsal for some Greek gangster film.
The first man motioned his partner back, then turned to Vance. "You realize we will be forced to kill her right now if you don't produce all originals and copies."
"Don't really think you want to do that." Vance stared at him. "Because if anything happens to her, you're going to be reading about your 'prototype' all over the American newspapers. I can probably even swing some prime-time TV time for you. I'll take care of it personally."
"No one will believe you."
"Don't think so? My guess is the Washington Post will run your entire protocol on page one. I'll see they get a very literal translation into English. Then you won't need this. You can just buy all the copies you want." He picked up the laptop and walked over to where Eva was standing.
"Here, take this, and get back in the car, now. I think these guys have got an attitude problem. So screw them."
"Michael." She reached for the computer.
"Get in that one." He pointed toward Alex's gray Saab. "And take the next plane out of Greece. That place we talked about. Anywhere. Just go."
"We're getting nowhere," the second man barked again. Then he leveled his automatic at Vance's right knee and clicked off the safety. There was a gasp from the gawking tourists, and the crowd began stumbling backward for cover. "We have ways