"Pinhead leakage in Delta Three." He frowned. "Do you understand Japanese?" The Plumber tugged a cassette from one of the dozen pockets that bulged on his stained work vest and waved it in Korolev’s face. He wore carefully laundered Levi’s and dilapidated Adidas running shoes. "We accessed this last night." Korolev cowered as though the cassette were a weapon. "No, no Japanese." The meekness of his own voice startled him. "Only English and Polish." He felt himself blush. The Plumber was his friend; he knew and trusted the Plumber, but "Are you well, Colonel?" The Plumber loaded the tape and punched up a lexicon program with deft, callused fingers. "You look as though you just ate a bug. I want you to hear this."