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Despite his age and long years of self-indulgent living amin the political arena, Larimer was still a powerfully built man.
But the heart and circulation were no longer up to the stress and dangers of staying alive in a hostile situation. Pitt didn't require an internship to recognize a man who was in dire need of medical treatment.
"A Russian search party is just across the hall," Pitt explained.
"We can't let them imprison us again," Moran shouted, springing to his feet and looking around wildly. "We must run!"
"You wouldn't make the elevator," snapped Pitt, grabbing him by the arm as he would a child throwing a tantrum. He didn't much care for Moran. The Speaker of the House struck him as an oily weasel.
"There's no place to hide," said Loren, her voice not quite steady.
Pitt didn't answer her but brushed past Giordino and went into the bathroom. He pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water. Less than a minute later clouds of steam billowed into the cramped quarters.
"Okay," Pitt directed, "everybody in the shower."
Nobody moved. They all stared at him, standing wraithlike in the mist-filled doorway, as though he was from another earth.
"Move!" he said sharply. "They'll be here any second."
Giordino shook his head in bewilderment. "How are you going to get three people in that stall shower? It's hardly big enough for one."
"Get your wig on. You're going in too."
"The four of us?" Loren muttered incredulously.
"Either that or a free trip to Moscow. Besides, college kids cram entire fraternities in phone booths all the time."
Giordino slipped the wig over his head as Pitt re-entered the bathroom and turned the water to lukewarm. He placed a trembling Moran in a squatting position between Giordino's legs.
Larimer pressed his heavy body against the far corner of the stall as Loren climbed on Giordino's back. At last they were jammed awkwardly into the stall, drenched by the flow from the shower head.
Pitt was in the act of turning on the hot water in the sink to increase the steam cloud when he heard a knock on the door.
He hurried over and opened it so there was no suspicious hesitation. The ship's first officer bowed slightly and smiled.
"Mr. Gruber, is it? Very sorry to bother you, but we're Making a routine inspection of the fire sprinklers. Do you mind if we enter?"
"Why, sure," Pitt said obligingly. "No problem with me, but my wife's in the shower."
The officer nodded to the stewardess who eased past Pitt and made a show of checking the overhead sprinkler heads. Then she pointed to the bathroom door. "May I?"
"Go on in," said Pitt good-naturedly. "She won't mind."
The stewardess opened the door and was enveloped in a cloud of steam. Pitt went over and leaned in the bathroom. "Hey, luv, our steward lady wants to check the fire sprinkler. All right with you?"
As the cloud began dissipating through the door, the stewardess saw a huge stringy mop of hair and a pair of heavy browed eyes peeking around the shower curtain.
"All right by me," came Loren's voice. "And could you bring us a couple of extra towels when you think of it?"
The stewardess simply nodded and said, "I'll be back with the towels shortly."
Pitt casually munched on a canape' and offered one to the first officer, who gave a polite shake of his head.
"Does my heart good to see you people so interested in the safety of the passengers," said Pitt.
"Merely doing our duty," said the first officer, looking curiously at the half-eaten stack of hors d'oeuvres. "I see you also enjoy our shipboard cuiside."
"My wife and I love appetizers," said Pitt. "We'd rather eat these than a main course."
