“Where in Russia are you from?” Jack asked, speaking for the first time.

“Ummm,” Yuri voiced with hesitation. Then he said, “Saint Petersburg.”

“I hear that’s a beautiful city,” Laurie said. “Anyway, there’s a kind of whitefish favored by Russian immigrants that have been known to have carried the toxin. Is that something you eat often?”

“Not too often,” Yuri said. He had no idea what Laurie was talking about.

“We’d very much like to come inside and take a look in your kitchen,” Laurie said. “I cannot emphasize enough how potentially serious this could be.”

“Well, I...” Yuri began.

“It will not take long,” Laurie said. “We promise. You see, we’ve come all the way out here from Manhattan. Of course, we could call the Department of Health. Now, they would insist about coming in and would have legal authority to do so.”

“I suppose it would be all right if it didn’t take too long,” Yuri said. He was beginning to recover from his initial shock. He certainly didn’t want any public health authorities coming out during the night armed with a warrant. Besides, he was beginning to think of a way of turning this surprise visit to his favor.

“Thank you,” Laurie said. She and Jack came through the gate.

Yuri preceded them back to the kitchen door. He opened it and stepped inside. Laurie and Jack followed.

Laurie’s eyes swept the cramped L-shaped room. “This is...” she began. She hesitated trying to think of a word until finally saying: “Cute.”

Jack nodded, but he was more interested in looking at Yuri. “That’s quite a rash you have there.”

Yuri touched his face with evident embarrassment. His other hand was still in his pocket, holding onto the Glock. “It’s some kind of allergic reaction.”

Jack tilted his head to the side and looked at Yuri with narrowed eyes. “Have I met you someplace?”

“Surely not,” Yuri said. He pointed to the kitchen. “All the food is right here.”

Laurie immediately went to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. She bent over and looked at the contents. There was very little.

Jack followed but was curious about the objects on the table. “What are these?” he questioned while poking one of the clear plastic sausages with his finger.

Yuri leaped forward. “Careful!” he cried. He then calmed when Jack pulled his hand away. “I don’t want those to break.”

“Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t touch it very hard. Is this some kind of Russian delicacy?”

“In a way,” Yuri said vaguely.

“Wait a second,” Jack said suddenly. “I remember you. But aren’t you from Sverdlovsk?”

“No, I’m from Saint Petersburg,” Yuri said.

“Didn’t I meet you in the Corinthian Rug Company office?” Jack asked. “I mean your neighbor, Yegor, told me you drove a taxi. Didn’t you come to the rug company to pick up Mr. Papparis?”