"But why did he do
this?" he asked.
"He just told you," MacLeod replied. "He's the great Adam Lowiewski.
Checking math for a physics-research team is beneath his dignity. I
suppose the Komintern offered him a professorship at Stalin University."
He was watching Lowiewski's face keenly. "No," he continued. "It was
probably the mathematics chair of the Soviet Academy of Sciences."
"But who was this person who could smuggle microfilm out of the
reservation?" Suzanne Maillard wanted to know. "Somebody has invented
teleportation, then?"
MacLeod shook his head. "It was General Nayland's chauffeur. It had to
be. General Nayland's car is the only thing that gets out of here
without being searched. The car itself is serviced at Army vehicles
pool; nobody could hide anything in it for a confederate to pick up
outside. Nayland is a stuffed shirt of the first stuffing, and a tinpot
Hitler to boot, but he is fanatically and incorruptibly patriotic. That
leaves the chauffeur. When Nayland's in the car, nobody even sees him;
he might as well be a robot steering-device.
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