"Who is this?" smiled Raf, swiftly tucking the Makarov into the back of hisbelt.
"This is Eero," said Aino. "He programs. For the movement."
Eero gazed at the floor with a diffident shrug. "Many people are better hackersthan myself." His eyes widened suddenly. "Oh. Nice guns!"
"This is our safe house," said Raf.
Eero nodded. The tip of his tongue stole out and played nervously with thedangling gold ring.
"Eero came quickly so we could get started at once," Aino said. She looked atthe greasy arsenal with mild disdain, the way one might look at a large set ofunattractive wedding china. "Now where is the money?"
Starlitz and Raf exchanged glances.
"I think what Raf is trying to say," said Starlitz gently, "is thattraditionally you don't bring a contact to the safehouse. Safehouses are forstoring weapons and sleeping. You meet contacts in open-air situations or publiclocales. It's just a standard way of doing business."
Aino was wounded. "Eero's okay! We can trust him. Eero's in my sociology class."
"I'm sure Eero is fine," said Raf serenely.
"He brought a cell-phone," Starlitz said, glancing at the holster on Eero'schrome-studded leather belt. "Cops and spooks can track people's movementsthrough mobile cellphones."
"It's all right," Raf said gallantly. "Eero is your friend, my dear, so we trusthim. Next time we are a bit more careful with our operational technique. Okay?"Raf spread his hands, judiciously. "Comrade Eero, since you're here, take alittle something. Have a grenade."
"Truly?" said Eero, with a self-effacing smile. "Thank you." He tried stuffing apineapple, without success, into the tight leather pocket of his jeans.