Silent Thunder

TEN

"Interesting woman," Hannah said, as they walked down Eugenia's front stairs. "She's much younger than I imagined."

"She's older than she looks, but of course, she was only seventeen or eighteen when she started with the KGB. They were training her to be a swallow."

"Swallow?"

"An agent who specializes in obtaining information by sexual seduction. She decided that patriotism could only carry you so far and opted out."

"I'm glad she didn't let them use her like that. She seems very nice."

"She is. And she's a great person to have on your side. She truly has a good heart, but don't let that charming personality fool you. There are dozens of souls in the world who probably consider her the most intimidating person they've ever met."

Hannah nodded slowly. "I can believe that."

"That's good. I wouldn't want you to underestimate her. If there's a threat to her or someone she cares about, she won't hesitate to eliminate that threat. I've seen her in action, and she's very proficient."

"She said she owed you? Why?"

"Oh, I was able to get her out of a sticky situation once." He changed the subject. "Bradworth will know we're in New York, you know."

"How?"

"Shortly after we crossed the Triborough Bridge, your license plate was photographed and probably matched with an alert that he logged."

"Homeland Security at work."

"Another camera may have already caught us in the city. In any case, when we pass close to the U.N. or another landmark, they'll get another shot."

"Should we just leave my car in the lot?"

"No, I believe it's time to bring him into the picture again. I just didn't want him to zero in on Eugenia." Kirov pulled out his cell phone and punched a number. "Hello, Bradworth," he said into the phone. "You're not on your way to New York yet, are you?"

"New York? Why would I be there?"

"Come now," Kirov said. "Ms. Bryson and I are contemplating an early dinner in TriBeCa, and we would be delighted to have you join us. How are you doing on pinpointing our location?"

Bradworth cursed softly. "We got her car crossing Eighth Avenue, near Times Square, about half an hour ago. What are you doing in New York? And why the hell did you sneak away from here?"

"We needed a change of scene. We thought it would help Hannah clear her mind."

"You son of a bitch."

"You had your chance with her, now it's my turn."

"What are you doing? You have an obligation to keep us in the loop."

"That was never a condition of our agreement. I promised you results, not cooperation."

"Kirov-!"

"Good-bye, Bradworth. I'll be in touch soon." He hung up and turned to Hannah. "Now let's look over the guest quarters Eugenia offered us. I could use a shower and a meal without Bradworth or his men looking over our shoulders."

"No TriBeCa?"

"Definitely no TriBeCa."

Nice." Hannah gazed around the parlor of the brownstone. High ceilings, wonderful moldings, and the muted paisley cushions on the oversized couch and chairs looked very inviting. "How long do you think we'll be here before Eugenia comes up with the information?"

He shrugged. "It will take as long as it takes. She can't work miracles." He smiled. "Though she might deny that. Eugenia doesn't lack confidence."

"I could tell she was no shrinking violet." She started up the stairs. "But I'd rather deal with someone who believed in herself than a wimp. I'm going to go settle in and explore that shower you were talking about."

"I have a few calls to make and then I'll shower and check out the kitchen." He pulled out his phone and dropped down on the couch. "Relax. Take a nap."

"Not likely." She reached the top of the stairs and opened the first door. The bedroom had the same comfortable ambiance as the furniture downstairs, and there was a door that probably led to a bathroom. She threw her duffel on the bed.

A few minutes later she was stepping beneath the warm spray of the shower. God, it felt good. Some of the tension was flowing out of her. She had been on edge since the night she had met Kirov. Even in their more peaceful moments when they were working together, she had been acutely aware of both him and the bizarreness of the situation. But then everything in the world had taken on a nightmare strangeness when Conner had died.

And she couldn't live with that strangeness for much longer. She couldn't allow herself to go forward blindly over a cliff. Events had moved so quickly that she had been more accepting than she would ordinarily have been. She had let Kirov lead her to his friends, his turf, and she knew little more about him than the night she'd met him. She'd been swept along by that dynamic forcefulness and the hope that they could quickly put an end to Pavski.

It was time to stop, slow down, ask questions.

And Kirov had better be prepared to answer them.

I heard from Eugenia." Kirov was taking a carafe of coffee off the stand when Hannah came into the small kitchen. "No luck yet. She's still putting out feelers." He studied her. "You look more rested. Though a little grim. Have you been brooding?"

"I've been thinking," she corrected.

"I thought you'd be analyzing the situation as soon as you had time to take a breath. It's an integral part of your character." He picked up the carafe and two cups. "There's a tiny courtyard out back. Let's go outside and drink coffee and look at the stars."

"I don't want to look at the stars."

"Then let's go outside so that I can look at the stars while you interrogate me." He was already heading for the door. "It will relax me. You might find me more accommodating if I'm communing with nature."

"Not likely." She followed him out into the courtyard. "Accommodating?"

"I can be accommodating when it suits me." He sat down at the mosaic bistro table and gestured for her to sit across from him. "And when it doesn't foul up my plans."

"I don't give a damn about your plans."

"Yes, you do, because now you're part of them." He filled up the cups and set the carafe down on the table. "And we have a joint objective. While you were analyzing our partnership, didn't you throw that into the mix?"

"That's the second time you used the word analyze."

"Does it bother you? I admire that about you. You have such a clear vision. You see all the nuts and bolts, and most of the time can come up with magnificently creative answers. You transform confusion into clarity." He smiled. "What a wonderful gift."

He meant it, she realized. "Conner used to say that I was closer to machines than I was to people."

He shook his head. "Machines are easier than people, and maybe you found it easier to concentrate on them after your child died."

She stiffened. "Your dossier on me must have been very detailed. My little boy died after only a few weeks."

"I didn't pay any attention to the personal stuff when I first got the report on you. It was after I started watching you at the sub that I went back and began to explore in depth."

"Why?"

"I felt I had to know you," he said simply.

"Again, why?"

"I wasn't sure." He smiled faintly. "Perhaps it was because I began to think of you in the same way I did Silent Thunder. It was most unsettling."

Her brows rose skeptically. "You thought I was like a submarine, and you still wanted to get to know me?"

"I've never thought of the sub with detachment. I've always had a personal feeling for her." He lifted his cup to his lips. "And, yes, I probed and dug to find everything I could about you. Your divorce, the loss of your baby. The death of a child can twist a person's soul. I'm sorry for your pain."

His tone was absolutely sincere, and she found herself asking him. "Do you have children?"

He shook his head.

"A wife?"

"My wife is dead." He lifted his cup to his lips. "Her name was Mira and she was… exceptional. I had her for seven years, and every one was a journey of discovery."

"Discovery?"

"We were nothing alike, but that only made it better. She was smart and funny, and she cut through the crap."

"That must mean she stood up to you. Did you argue?"

"Not much. I was away from home too much. Every minute we were together was too valuable to waste on arguments. About the only thing we argued about was the sub."

"What?"

"She said I loved it more than her."

"Did you?"

"Maybe at one time. I was obsessed. After she died I felt guilty, and that might mean I thought I hadn't given her all she needed from me." He met her eyes across the table. "But I did love her, Hannah."

Intimacy. She could hear the traffic on the streets beyond the courtyard walls, but she felt as if they were cocooned in this green oasis in the city. She didn't want to feel this intimate with Kirov. She had meant to confront him and had ended with learning that he was not invulnerable and feeling a sense of bonding at the loss that they'd both suffered. She tore her eyes from him and reached for her coffee cup. "I didn't mean to question you about your private life. It's none of my business."

"Turnabout is fair play. I was curious about you, and I invaded your privacy. You have a right to know something about me too."

It was an opening, and she had to grab for it. "Yes, I do. It's my right to know a hell of a lot more than I do right now. I'm sick of 'classified.' I want to know what you know."

"I thought that was where we were heading when you walked into the kitchen this evening."

"And you tried to distract me by bringing everything down to a personal level."

"No." He smiled. "I didn't need to do that. Everything has been on an intensely personal level between us since the moment we met. Haven't you noticed?"

She couldn't deny it. Fear, anger, frustration, and now pity had drawn them together in the most basic fashion. "I want to know about those plates on the sub."

He was silent a moment, then said, "Ten years ago much of the Atlantic fleet, including Silent Thunder, was engaged in military exercises in the North Sea. Then the fleet commander radioed Captain Vladzar and ordered him to break off the exercises. We were told to navigate the sub toward a remote atoll about four hundred miles south of the fleet."

"Why?"

"We didn't know," Kirov said. "Usually the fleet command would give us some indication why, but this time they were damnably cryptic. We were all nervous about this, because we were carrying warheads with bacteriological agents that were notoriously difficult to contain. The sooner those capsules were off the sub, the better for all of us."

"Germs?"

His lips tightened. "Why are you so horrified? The U.S. has its own germ warfare program. It was just a nasty fact of life. Anyway, I assumed we were going to a testing range for them, but I soon found out I was wrong. We were on a recovery mission."

She frowned. "Recovering what?"

"One large capsule, sixteen feet long."

"A misplaced weapon?"

"No, the captain was being asked to endanger the lives of everyone on his ship for a treasure hunt."

"What?"

"Oh, it wasn't just any treasure. This was special. The treasure was seized from Czechoslovakia during the years of Soviet occupation. There were the requisite jewels and priceless statues, but there was one object there that made the cache truly priceless."

"What object?"

He leaned closer. "Have you ever heard of Czechoslovakia's Golden Cradle?"

She shook her head. "Should I have?"

"Most Eastern Europeans know the legend. Supposedly, a wise, mystical Czech princess in the second century A.D. tossed her son's golden cradle into the depths of the Vitava River, claiming that the country would emerge from chaos and reach greatness only after it reappeared. Both Princess Libushe and the story were thought to be mythology, only remotely linked with any kind of reality. Rather like the King Arthur legend."

"Are you telling me the cradle exists?"

"Yes, I've seen it."

"When?"

"Soviet engineers uncovered it during a construction project in the 1950s in the Vitava River. It's been authenticated. The cradle is almost two thousand years old, but it's beautiful to behold. There are markings on it that link it to Libushe's eldest son."

"That's amazing."

"Yes, it's something that many people would give anything to possess. Czech politicians, insurgents, tycoons, art collectors."

Hannah could imagine that to be true. Both the legend and the prophecy would make it even more valuable than the actual material was worth. She had run across that factor during the Titanic expedition and this treasure was even more mystical. "How did Pavski come into this?"

"Why, my dear, Igor Pavski was the fleet commander."

"What?"

"Did you think he was a common criminal? Oh, no, Pavski is totally brilliant and was one of the youngest officers ever to become commander of the fleet."

"And he'd risk losing that high office to go after the cradle?"

"He'd risk anything. Pavski had an obsession for obtaining the cradle from childhood. He had a general idea where the cache was located, and he spent months secretly directing resources to find it. It was under the pretense of finding an undetonated classified missile. After he found it, he redirected my vessel from the testing trials to launch a recovery operation. We brought it aboard without much trouble."

"When did you realize it wasn't a weapon?"

"Almost immediately, but most of the crew still didn't know. The captain was furious that we'd been forced to go hundreds of miles out of our way with an unstable bacteriological agent aboard-all for Pavski's personal quest. Captain Vladzar, the first officer, I, and a few other senior officers made a stand against him and we were promptly relieved of our commands and placed under arrest. Some Pavski loyalists had been transferred in just before the mission, so I suspect Pavski knew we wouldn't be happy. We were boarded, taken off the sub, and placed into the brig of a destroyer."

"Along with the treasure?"

"No, Pavski had other plans. He brought in a Captain Heiser to take command, and Heiser headed for coordinates that Pavski gave him. Heiser was brilliant at navigation and a computer genius, but his main qualification for Pavski was that he always obeyed without question." His lips twisted. "But the crewmen whom Pavski had brought on board with Heiser weren't familiar with bacteria containment, and they screwed up." He added bitterly, "Damn them to hell. The capsule drum was ruptured and the bacteria were released. The crew became infected."

"My God."

"Heiser radioed the fleet commander for assistance, but all ships in the area were ordered to stand down. They couldn't risk spreading the infection."

She shuddered at the thought. Alone and sick and no one to help them. "It reminds me of the Kursk."

"Yes," he said harshly. "And those were my men, my friends, on that sub. Their only crime was trusting their government and believing in their commanding officers. Then Heiser did something smart; he discharged the capsule and tried to use its location as a bargaining chip against the fleet commander. I have transcripts of the radio communications, and it was obvious that Pavski was trying to persuade Heiser to disclose where he'd hidden the cradle. Heiser wouldn't tell him. He was trying to leverage his knowledge for a rescue attempt that never came. The bacteriological agent did its work quickly, as it was designed to do. Everyone aboard was dead within twenty-four hours. The strain was engineered to die quickly without live hosts, so after a brief period of quarantine, the Silent Thunder was boarded and searched. None of the logs or journals or the captain's personal books gave any indication of where the cradle was hidden, and time ran out for Pavski. The outbreak of disease on the sub made the government very nervous. They were in the process of denying they had such weapons to the U.S. Solution: Cover up. Silent Thunder had to disappear quickly. They insisted the sub be immediately decommissioned and taken to the shipyards in Helsinki to be scrapped."

"Which would have happened if it hadn't been for a corrupt Russian bureaucrat."

"Yes, and our Fleet Commander Pavski scrambled to cover up his involvement in the crew's deaths. It was difficult to do. But fear and bribes can accomplish miracles. He kept his post and was soon busy climbing higher."

"With all those deaths at his door?"

"He had power. Anyway, in the intervening years, there was a persistent rumor that Heiser might have hidden the location of his prize somewhere on the Silent Thunder. It was based on something he said to his father on the radio in the last hours of his life. He quoted an obscure Polish writer, which people later traced to a poem in which the narrator hides the key to his treasure in the room where he lay dying. And at one point he told his father how he'd like to go back with him to the Rioni River, where they'd gone when he was a child. There were a few other references that might have been clues, but no one could make the connection. No one really thought that much of it, since the sub was thought to have been scrapped."

"But then it was rediscovered…"

Kirov nodded. "Then everything changed. I was skeptical that there was really any hidden treasure map, but I knew the mere possibility would draw the players out of the woodwork. I'd been looking for them for years, and this was finally my chance."

"Who are the players?"

"Pavski and his committee of vultures who killed the officers and crew of the Silent Thunder." His lips twisted. "I won't give you all the names. It would be a waste of time. Most of them are dead."

"I'm sure you've seen to that. How many are left?"

"Just one, but he's the central figure, Igor Pavski. He thinks he's indomitable. He almost proved it. He was well on his way to putting himself beyond my reach."

She remembered something Bradworth had said. "You went to Bradworth and offered him information that would bring Pavski down. The deaths on the Silent Thunder?"

"Yes. Bradworth arranged for rumors to flood Moscow that caused Pavski's position to become too dangerous. He knew that if the full story was known, he'd be put before a firing squad. So he disappeared from view."

"And surfaced here."

"He'll do anything to get the cradle. He'd walk on the edge of hell for a chance at it. He's still well connected, and there are certainly an abundance of unemployed KGB and shore patrol officers who would gladly join him for a tiny sliver of that fortune."

"And kill Conner and me without a second thought." Her hands tightened on the cup. "Pavski did do it."

"You believe me?"

"Yes," she said unevenly. "I believe you. I don't think even you would have been able to concoct such an ugly, depressing story."

"You would have had to live through it to realize just how ugly it was."

"How many crewmen were on board the sub?"

"One hundred and four," Kirov said. "Ninety-two were under thirty years of age."

"Terrible," she whispered. "I can see how you'd want to make Pavski pay for their deaths."

"And your Conner means as much or more to you than those men do to me. I'm not downplaying your loss. A hundred men or a single loved individual, the pain can be the same."

"Yes, it can." She paused. "You said Pavski had an obsession about the cradle from childhood? Why?"

"He thinks the cradle was meant to herald his rise to glory. He believes he needs to reclaim it to reach his destiny."

"He believes the legend? Why?"

"Pavski is half-Russian, half-Czech. His mother belonged to a noble family and married into a family whose castle was located on the Vitava River. She claimed to be a descendent of the princess who threw the cradle into the river. I don't know if she was nuts or just trying to raise her social status among her peers, but she raised Pavski to think he had a special destiny. When he rose to power in the fleet, it confirmed that belief. All he needed was the cradle, and he could rule the world."

"Christ."

"And when he was forced to disappear from Moscow after the loss of the cradle, and rumors of his actions began to be circulated, it reinforced that belief. It seemed proof to him that he had to have it to succeed."

"It's crazy."

"No one said he was particularly stable." His lips tightened. "It takes a special madness to kill over a hundred men." He poured another cup of coffee. "Now, unless you have more questions for me, I think we should not discuss this any longer. It's better if I don't dwell on that time. I have a tendency to lose perspective and go a little berserk."

"One would never guess it. You're one of the coolest men I've ever met."

He shook his head. "Training," he added lightly. "Inside I'm a veritable seething volcano. Ask Bradworth."

"I make my own judgments."

He studied her expression. "And at the moment that judgment is leaning a little in my direction." He smiled. "Then suppose you make another judgment about what topping you want on your pizza. I'm about to call Domino's for dinner."

"I'm not very hungry."

"Neither am I. We're both emotionally strung-out, but we need to eat." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll hold off calling for another hour. And while we're waiting, we'll veer away and talk about pleasanter subjects."

"For instance?"

"You tell me about your Titanic expedition. I've read about it, but I want to hear your own version. There are always stories that never come to light."

"And what are you going to tell me?"

He thought about it. "I'll tell you about my wicked doings at the naval academy. It's much more amusing than my training on board the sub. I was kept firmly under control there."

"I can believe that. My impression of your captain is that he was strictly no-nonsense."

He tilted his head. "You say that almost with affection."

"I liked what I read about him. I liked his taste in books and music." Her smile faded. "Conner said I had a father fixation on him."

"Really? Actually, part of me was also drawn to that side of Sergai. Perhaps he was the man I wanted to be." He shook his head. "Though I would never have admitted it to him."

"And now it's too late."

"Yes." He shrugged. "Enough of this brooding. Talk to me about your expedition. Tell me about your submersible."

"Some people would say the Titanic wasn't exactly the most cheerful subject."

"I don't want to hear about a doomed ship. I want to hear about you. What you did, what you are. Tell me."

And she wanted to hear about him, she suddenly realized. What he had told her about the events that had led him here had only revealed the tip of the iceberg. Kirov had lived a life that was foreign to her, and yet his love of the sea and his ship struck an answering note within her. She wanted to stay here under the stars in this quiet place and think of something besides Pavski and the horror he had brought.

She lifted the cup to her lips. "When they contacted me and told me they needed me to design the submersible, I was over the moon. I'd been following the progress of the different expeditions, and I already had an idea about…"

How cozy you are." Eugenia smiled as she came through the courtyard doorway. "Forgive me for not ringing the bell. I wasn't going to wake you if you'd already gone to bed." She plopped down in a chair. "Pizza!" She took a piece and leaned back with a sigh. "I forgot to eat dinner. You kept me too busy, Kirov."

"Evidently not busy enough if you were going to let us sleep."

"I put out feelers. No answers yet." She nibbled at the pizza. "I decided I needed a break and I wanted to be among friends for a while. It's a rare pleasure."

"Bull. You have thousands of friends, Eugenia."

She made a face. "But very few who know and accept me for what I am." She shrugged. "And what I was. We're a pretty exclusive club, Kirov." She turned to Hannah. "And I think we could be friends. I've been reading up on you. You're a woman like me. We both take charge."

"You're right there," Kirov said.

"Hush," Eugenia said. "I'm talking to Hannah. In fact, this pizza is cold. Go heat it up for me."

"You want to get rid of me?"

Eugenia smiled. "You've got it, cha-cha."

He looked at Hannah.

"We wouldn't want her to eat cold pizza," Hannah said.

He took the plate. "Ten minutes."

"He'll be back in exactly ten minutes," Eugenia said. "It's that military mind-set."

"You seem to know him very well."

"Yes, as well as anyone can know him. When you've gone through what he has, it tends to make a person develop a shell." She grinned. "But I just light a fire under him and, poof, it goes up in flame."

"Fire? Are you lovers?"

"No. Though I've thought about it occasionally. He's a very sexy man."

"I didn't notice."

Eugenia gave her a skeptical glance. "You noticed. I'd judge that you're not one of those women who like pretty boys."

"Well, he's definitely not pretty."

"No, but he has a way of moving, a way of looking at you. Sometimes there's a stillness about him that's very erotic. Because you know there's so much more going on underneath. And watch his hands. They're a real turn-on."

Hannah's brows lifted. "Are you sure you're not lovers?"

Eugenia chuckled. "As I said, I've been tempted to try to lure him into my web, but we're both too intense. We'd probably destroy each other. Besides, we both need friends we can trust. That's rare in our circle. Sex would get in the way. No, we're definitely not lovers." Her eyes narrowed on Hannah's face. "Are you?"

"You're not listening. I told you, we're just acquaintances."

"That's what you told me. But when I came out here tonight, I thought I caught a glimpse of something more."

"What?"

"You looked… close. As if you'd been together for years."

Hannah felt a ripple of shock. "I'm afraid you have a vivid imagination."

"Maybe. But I'm very good at reading nuances. It was part of my job once."

"Then you must be slipping." She frowned. "Is that why you wanted to speak to me alone?"

"Partly. I wanted to make sure that I'd warned you to treat my friend well. Kirov wouldn't have understood that protectiveness for him in me. But I think you do."

"Warned? What would you do if I didn't treat your pet tiger with gentleness?"

Eugenia made a cutting motion across her throat. "But only in an extreme case. I'd give you a chance to explain first."

Hannah laughed. Eugenia was truly an original. "Well, I'm safe. Kirov doesn't give a damn about me."

"You're wrong. There's something there. I could see it."

Yes, there was something between them, Hannah thought. In the last hours she'd been aware that the bond had strengthened. She had learned he had a wry sense of humor, and the outrageous stories he'd told her of his years at the academy had given her a new view of Kirov. He was intelligent and stimulating, and he listened. He watched her expressions, and she felt as if he was intently interested in every word she'd said.

For God's sake, but that didn't mean anything more than they'd spent a few pleasant hours together.

"Ah, you're thinking about it," Eugenia said. "That's good."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to make a mistake."

"Because you'd hate to cut my throat?"

Eugenia nodded. "Absolutely."

Hannah laughed. "Did Kirov really save your life?"

"Oh, yes. And from a very unpleasant demise. I was dealing with an extremely nasty customer, and Kirov heard I was going to be chopped. He came in and saved the day."

"One of Pavski's people?"

"No, Kirov was on another job. He doesn't rely on the CIA for funds. It would compromise his freedom of choice. He takes assignments from other sources, and he's very much in demand."

"Doing what?"

"This and that."

"And his boat wasn't cheap. This and that must be very profitable."

"You're probing. Yes, Kirov doesn't always walk the straight and narrow. But he manages to stay out of the tar pits." Eugenia shook her head. "And that's all I'm going to say. I'm just grateful that he was there when I needed him. I'm more careful with whom I do business these days."

"Why do you run any risks at all? You're obviously smart and very talented."

"How clever of you to be that perceptive."

"You're dodging."

She shrugged. "I lived on the edge for many years. I got used to it. Every now and then I'm still tempted to dip my toe back in the mire." She glanced at the door through which Kirov had disappeared. "I sometimes wonder how he'll be when he manages to kill Pavski."

"He'll handle it."

She was silent a moment before she stirred. "Yes, of course." She looked at the coffee carafe. "Coffee with pizza? What are you thinking? I'll open a bottle of wine."

They were on their third bottle of wine when Eugenia received the call on her cell for which she was waiting.

She grabbed a pen from her bag and started writing on a napkin. "Got it. Many thanks." She hung up the phone and beamed at Kirov. "Am I not wonderful?"

"Are you?"

"Magnificent. Clever." She nodded. "And very well connected."

"And a tiny bit tipsy?" Hannah asked.

"On wine? Vodka was my mother's milk. I'm merely mellow. It was good drinking with friends. Usually, I have to be careful."

"Eugenia," Kirov said.

"I'm getting to it. I just wanted a bit of praise."

"You're fantastic. Now talk to me."

"There's an antiques dealer in Fairfield, Connecticut, who specializes in interesting imports. The type of imports that one obtains outside the twelve-mile territorial waters limit and brings in under the cover of night."

"Are we talking about narcotics?"

"No, nothing quite so distasteful. He buys jewelry, medallions, documents, and small trinkets with questionable ownership. Objects that may have been liberated from Eastern Bloc museums and government special collections in the past ten or fifteen years. His name is Boris Petrenko."

"Why would he interest me?"

"Because he also imports people. He arranges passage for Eastern Europeans who want to slip into the country undetected. He uses the same network that he does for his antiques. He picks them up and brings them in along with his purchases."

"Do you know him?"

"Not personally."

"Interesting. Why do you think he may be involved with Pavski?"

"According to my sources, he's been boasting about a very rich deal he made for himself. A last-minute job to bring in three very important visitors from Russia."

"Who?"

"I know I'm a miracle worker, but I'll need a bit more time for that one. I'll work on it. All I know is that he was boarded by the Coast Guard shortly before dawn Saturday, and the men slipped overboard several miles from shore."

"Did they make it?"

"Apparently. He received the balance of his payment Monday morning."

"How was he paid?"

"Can't help you." She poured herself another glass of wine. "Do your own work. His shop is at 1408 Post Road."

"The timing is certainly right," Hannah murmured.

"It's worth checking out."

"But not tonight," Eugenia said. "It's 2:00 A.M. Tomorrow morning is soon enough. His shop is closed, and unless you want to roust him from his bed… You don't even know that he's your man."

Kirov looked at Hannah. "Your choice."

She thought about it. "We'll be at his shop when it opens in the morning."

"Good," Eugenia said. "Because we have this perfectly wonderful bottle of wine to finish."