either are suited for physical labor, this slight woman and this gone-to-seed mid-forties biologist. The laundry cart might as well be filled with cinder blocks. Hoffstetler, though, trusts the properties of propulsion and momentum. They just have to get it moving. But Elisa abandons the handle and leans into the cart to arrange wet towels to better hide the creature inside. She does it with such affection that Hoffstetler hates to snap at her, but he does. This woman has set in motion a plot the Soviet government decided was too risky, and it deserves the reward of a real attempt. She scurries back, they push, the towels rustle with the creature’s fear, and the wheels, weeping in protest, begin to turn.

It takes, by Hoffstetler’s estimation, the length of an entire career to reach the lab door. In the hallway, darkness still reigns, but he knows it won’t last; as Mihalkov said, the popper blows the fuses, but any homeowner with half a brain will be able to fix them. They bear down and push the cart in the direction of the loading dock. The only sounds are the squeaky wheel, their own grunts of strain, and the wheeze of the creature under the towels, until the serrated buzz of an angry voice reverberates from the next corridor:

“The asset! Lock down the asset!”

Hoffstetler knows, at once, what he must do. He takes a bottle of pills from his pocket and presses them into Elisa’s hand. “Mix one of these in the water every three days. Do you understand me? Its water must be kept at seventy-five percent salinity.” She stares in confusion. “Strict protein diet. Uncooked fish. Raw meat. Do you understand?” She’s shaking her head even as he’s handing her the syringe. “If you’re not going to make it, use this. Don’t let them cut it open. Please. It has secrets we’re not supposed to know. None of us deserve to know.” Except, perhaps, this janitor, he thinks. “It can only last thirty minutes out of water. Hurry. Hurry!”

She nods, but it’s loose, as if her head might topple off her neck. There is much more he needs to tell her, a lifetime’s worth of information and caution, but he’s down to mere seconds. He bolts into the darkness, following the bellow of Strickland’s voice.