They were in Noguchi park by the edge of the central lake, seated on artfully scattered boulders that had been carved to look water-eroded.  A kneehigh forest of baby birches grew to one side, and somebody's toy sailboat floated near the impact cone at the center of the lake.  Honeybees mazily browsed the clover.

"And then, just as the wall was crumbling, this crazy Russian bitch--"

Anya ditched a trey.  "Watch what you say about crazy Russian bitches."

"--goes zooming up on her hopper ..."

"I saw it on television," Hiro said.  "We all did.  It was news.  This guy who works for Nissan told me the BBC gave it thirty seconds."  He'd broken his nose in karate practice, when he'd flinched into his instructor's punch, and the contrast of square white bandage with shaggy black eyebrows gave him a surly, piratical appearance.

Gunther discarded one.  "Hit me.  Man, you didn't see anything.  You didn't feel the ground shake afterwards."

"Just what was Izmailova's connection with the Briefcase War?" Hiro asked.  "Obviously not a courier.  Was she in the supply end or strategic?"

Gunther shrugged.

"You do remember the Briefcase War?" Hiro said sarcastically.  "Half of Earth's military elites taken out in a single day?  The world pulled back from the brink of war by bold action?  Suspected terrorists revealed as global heroes?"

Gunther remembered the Briefcase War quite well.  He had been nineteen  at the time, working on a Finlandia Geothermal project when the whole world had gone into spasm and very nearly destroyed itself.  It had been a major factor in his decision to ship off the planet.  "Can't we ever talk about anything but politics?  I'm sick and tired of hearing about Armageddon."

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be meeting with Hamilton?" Anya asked suddenly.

He glanced up at the Earth.  The east coast of South America was just crossing the dusk terminator.  "Oh, hell, there's enough time to play out the hand."