“Yes, I’m close,” Yuri said. He nodded a few times as if agreeing with himself before taking a deep breath and exhaling through pursed lips. It was like he’d been under stress but was now able to relax. He gestured with his glass toward both Curt and Steve as if he was giving a toast and then took another, larger slug of his drink. He held the vodka in his mouth for a moment before swallowing as if it was fine wine.

“What about the second fermenter?” Steve asked. “Have you converted it to anthrax?”

“Yes, this morning,” Yuri said.

“How is it going?” Curt asked.

“Extremely well,” Yuri said. He managed a smile. “It’s growing much better than the Clostridium botulinum. In fact I was amazed when I checked just a few minutes before you arrived. I’ll be able to harvest an entire batch this evening.”

“We could steal you another fermenter tonight,” Steve suggested. “If that could help.”

“There’s no need,” Yuri said with a wave of his free hand. “Not with the second one running. Now that I’ve had a chance to think, I’m sure I’ll be able to make delivery Thursday night.”

“Really?” Curt questioned.

“Absolutely,” Yuri said.

“You weren’t so sure just a few moments ago,” Curt said.

“I wasn’t,” Yuri admitted. “Not until Steve reminded me of the second fermenter. With it running like it is, I’ll be able to have at least ten pounds, maybe even a bit more if I work nonstop.”

“Is there any reason you can’t do that?” Curt asked.

“No,” Yuri said. “I just won’t drive the cab.”

“There is one more thing we want you to do before tomorrow night,” Curt said.

Yuri’s face, which had recently assumed a smile, reverted to a troubled expression.

“Now, don’t get upset,” Curt said, noticing the change in Yuri’s demeanor. “This is an easy request: at least easy for you. I’d like you to write down how you’ve created this anthrax powder. Since you’ll be back in Russia, we’re going to have to find someone else if we want to stage an encore.”

Yuri’s smile returned. He nodded. “Sure, I can do that. In fact I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Perfect!” Curt said. He smiled to himself before picking up the paper bag from the couch and handing it across to Yuri. As Yuri accepted the parcel, Curt’s other hand slipped behind to grasp the butt of his own pistol nestled in its holster in the small of his back. Unbeknownst to Yuri, who was happily opening the package, Steve did the same with his gun.

Yuri lifted the automatic out by its barrel. Dropping the paper bag, he examined the gun closely. He hefted it. “It’s lightweight,” he said.