Silent Thunder

SIXTEEN

Hannah watched Niler pass them in his Z-98 and disappear down Highway 98.

"What did you think?" Hannah asked Kirov.

"I'm pretty well versed in the art of demolitions, and Niler clearly knows what he's doing. I still can't get past the small size of the protected area. The treasure occupied a good part of the forward hold of the Silent Thunder, which as you know is well over twenty square feet."

"Maybe it's not the treasure he wants to guard. Maybe it's a clue to the location, like we thought those canisters might be."

"Possibly." Kirov nodded to a roadside diner up ahead. "That looks like a four-star establishment. Are you in the mood for a gourmet meal?"

"Sure. Greasy hamburgers are just what I need after looking at lethal weapons."

He pulled into the parking lot. "I might spring for a steak."

"I'll take the hamburger." She got out of the car. "There's nothing fancy about my palate. My ex-husband used to say that I was very lacking in that department."

"That's the first time you mentioned your husband." He opened the glass door for her. "I gather he's totally out of the picture?"

"Totally." She slid into a red leather booth, picked up a menu, and handed him one. "But my relationship isn't one that I'd discuss with you, Kirov. It's personal."

"There's personal and there's personal." He looked down at the menu. "I'd never ask you to talk about the child you lost. But ex-husbands are fair game."

"Why would you want me to talk about either one?"

He grimaced. "You're right. I've changed my mind. I don't want to hear anything about such a stupid bastard." He smiled. "It would tell me nothing about who you are now. We all change according to our experiences, and you've gone through a lot since you were with him."

The death of her child, the murder of Conner. "Yes, I have." She looked him in the eye. "And did the death of your wife change who you are?"

"Turnabout?" He shrugged. "Yes, I changed."

"How did she die?"

"Pavski."

She went still. "What?"

"She was sucked down in the morass after Silent Thunder was taken over. Pavski had staked out my home and was trying to use her to capture me after I escaped. For years we had a special code word. Whenever one of us used it in a telephone call, telegraph message, or e-mail, we knew to pack up and immediately proceed to a prearranged rendezvous spot. Those were uncertain times, and many officers had such arrangements with their loved ones." Kirov stared out the window for a long moment. "I called Mira with the code, but she never showed. I heard later that she was murdered by Pavski's men when she tried to escape from him and get to me."

"Jesus, I'm sorry."

"So was I."

"Does Bradworth know about your wife?"

"No; I needed him and his resources. If Bradworth knew that Pavski killed Mira, he'd know the chances were zilch I'd leave him alive long enough to turn him over to them. He's doubtful with what he knows about me now. He would have frozen me out."

"Like he tried to do to me."

"To his credit he was probably concerned for your well-being. On one hand you have Pavski, whose only concern is extracting information you have about the sub and those plates. On the other hand there's me, who obviously has no problem using you as bait in order to trap Pavski. I think Bradworth was trying to protect you as long as it didn't get in his way."

"You didn't mention your wife's death when you told me about the death of all those seamen on the sub."

His lips twisted. "And Mira would have said that it was characteristic that I told you about them and not her."

"Because she always thought you put the sub before her?"

"It was a joke, but maybe she really felt like that." He wearily shook his head. "I don't know. But that wasn't the reason I didn't tell you Pavski killed her. You'd suffered the loss of your brother. I didn't want you to think I was trying to identify with that loss."

"And you don't think the death of a hundred and three seamen wouldn't cause me to identify? You said they were a personal loss to you. Were you telling the truth?"

"God, yes. Every one of those men were like family." He met her eyes. "But they weren't my family. There's a fine difference."

"I still don't see why you-" She stopped, studying him. "Were you, by any chance, being honorable?"

"Perish the thought."

She smiled. "I think you were. How funny."

"It's not funny." He scowled. "Okay, perhaps I had a soft moment and wanted not to influence you unduly, but honor isn't the word. Honor doesn't fit me anymore. It would be like wearing squeaky shoes."

"Squeak. Squeak."

"I believe I need a diversion." He waved to the waitress across the room. "I think I'll feed you. And after your meal I have a favor to ask."

She stiffened. "Ask it now."

He shook his head. "When we get back to the hotel. After I've plied you with greasy hamburgers and strong coffee."

Congressman George Preston sat in his Prius, staring at the disposable mobile phone that thug had given him on the street the other night. How in the hell had he gotten to this point?

One mistake twenty years ago. One bad night, and now it had come back to bite him in the ass. He couldn't believe he was still paying for it. It wasn't fair. He had spent all those years serving his country. Now he was sitting here, in terror of his whole life going down the tube.

It mustn't happen. He couldn't let it happen.

He pressed the speed dial button on the phone.

"Your damn bug's in place," he said curtly when Pavski answered. "Now back off. Leave Cathy alone and leave me alone."

"I'll leave Cathy Bryson alone if I don't have to use her or the children. It's a matter of need. But you're on the hook until I get what I want, Congressman. There's always a price to pay, Preston."

"And I'm willing to pay it. Hell, I'm evidently willing for every-one else to pay it too. But no violence, Pavski."

"What will be, will be. I have to have Hannah Bryson."

"There's no reason. I told you that she doesn't know anything. Bradworth assured me that she didn't know anything more, and she told him she wouldn't be able to remember the carvings on the plate. She was too traumatized by her brother's death."

"I believe you. I'm working on another angle now, and I may not need her input about the plates. But I do still have another agenda. Kirov. He's been a thorn pricking me, and he's getting nearer all the time. I can't have him getting in my way right now. There's no way I can get close to him. He's too experienced at playing hide-and-seek after all these years. But he's been working hand in glove with Hannah Bryson. I may be able to use her to trap him."

"Bait?"

"No, Kirov would just let me kill her." He paused, and when he spoke again his tone was malicious. "But you've just demonstrated how easy it is to persuade someone to betray a compatriot if the price is right. If I give Hannah Bryson a choice, I think I'll have no trouble getting what I want."

"No violence. I won't permit it."

"Stop bluffing, Preston. You'll weigh your career against an anonymous favor, and you'll close your eyes and bite the bullet." He hung up on him.

What a son of a bitch.

Preston pressed the disconnect. Pavski had treated him with an ugly arrogance that had made him feel pitifully ineffectual. Was he right? Would he look away and bite the bullet?

Christ, and was the fact that he was considering it already sending him halfway down that path?

Preston had been ridiculously easy to manipulate, Pavski thought. He'd been surprised how quickly he had caved. But then he was a politician, and politicians were always afraid of damage to their image. So much for the Frank Capra mystique.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the ID.

Danzyl. Excitement surged through him.

"Do you have it?" he demanded as he answered the phone.

"No." Danzyl hesitated. "It's extremely difficult. I believe we should renegotiate."

He stiffened. "Are you holding me up for more money?"

"I'm a poor man, Pavski."

"But you're alive. You won't remain that way long if you don't fulfill our bargain."

"I got those files for you. Even that was a risk. People are very cautious about dealing with you these days. What you did to the Silent Thunder left a certain taint." He paused. "But I asked myself why you'd dig up all of this again. It's not safe. You're a smart man, and you should leave it behind you. There are too many people who suspect you of the murder of all those men. But you can't resist. You don't care. That means it must be the Golden Cradle. Am I correct?"

"You're supposed to give me information."

"It has to be the cradle. I remember how furious you were with us when Heiser's father was killed before you could get to him. You'd do anything to get it."

"Yes, I would. That should cause you to be more careful in trying to gouge me, Danzyl."

"Fair is fair. I'm not asking for a percentage, just a little more money to pay the rent."

"How much more?"

"Double."

"Done."

He was silent. "No argument?"

"Oh, I'll give you a big argument if you don't come through. And for that money you'll have to do more than research. I want answers now. Get your ass moving." He hung up.

Slimy bastard. Danzyl had surprised him. He had thought he was a drone like Koppel. Smarter, more lethal, but not capable of facing up to him. It didn't matter. After he got what he needed from Danzyl, he'd remove him from the scene in the most painful manner possible.

It has to be the cradle. You'd do anything to get it.

Very perceptive, Danzyl.

He could remember his mother taking him to the Vitaka River and sitting there with him while she told him about the cradle and how he must reclaim it for the family.

"You're the one the legend talks about, Igor," she would whisper as she stroked his hair. "When I married your father, I had no love for him. He wanted my body, and I wanted his name. And I knew he would give me a special child. I felt it. Someday you'll claim the cradle, and everyone will know how wonderful you are. Then you'll make me a queen, won't you? All these people here think I'm not good enough, but you'll show them."

He would nod in agreement, but even then he'd scarcely been aware of her ambitions. He'd been lost in the dreams of glory of what he was to become.

What he was still to become.

His mother would never realize her ambitions. She had died before he had become fleet commander. He had barely noticed her death and been too busy to go to the funeral. He was starting to make plans to go after the cradle.

And then came the disaster on the Silent Thunder that had almost brought him down.

But it had only been a temporary setback, and he had been strong enough to put it behind him. Now all he needed was the cradle, and he'd be able to start his climb again. Nothing could stop him.

He got up and moved across the room to stand before the plates. He reached out and touched the unidentified symbol with his finger-tips, tracing the cross within the circle. It felt curiously warm beneath his touch. Was it a sign? "I'll have it soon, Heiser," he murmured. "You and your clever tricks are nothing. You can't keep it from me much longer. Just a few days more…"

May I come in?" Kirov asked as they stopped in front of Hannah's door. "I promise I won't keep you long."

A quickie? Where had that thought come from, Hannah wondered as she unlocked the door. Any favor Kirov wanted from her would not involve sex. "I'd bust your head if you just walked away without telling me what you want." She unlocked her door. "I hate a tease."

"So do I." He followed her into the room. "I'd never tease you, Hannah. It's not in my dour nature. Unless you told me that you-Never mind." He turned on the light. "It's late, and I want your head clear." He went over to the desk, drew out several sheets of hotel stationery, and jotted down a series of Samsovian symbols.

"What are you writing?"

"I'm providing some lunar coordinates that will give some information as to the time of year. This should match closely to the sub's final voyage six years ago." He slid a sheaf of stationery over to her. "The favor."

"What?"

"Will you write down everything you can remember from those bulkhead plates. Can you do that for me?"

She had known it was coming. She was surprised he hadn't asked before. "Why do you need it?"

"I have to be certain that Pavski doesn't have all the plates. We're assuming he doesn't by his actions, but maybe he's not certain himself. He's no expert. I have to know if there's another plate floating around out there."

She moistened her lips. "It won't be easy. I can't just call it up like a computer file. I need to concentrate to bring back the sights, sounds, smells, the feelings of that night."

"The night your brother died."

"It's not an experience I'm eager to revisit," she said unevenly.

"Will you do it?"

No, she wanted to tell him. Hell, no. She could feel her stomach clench at the thought. Okay, get over it. She'd been a coward for too long. It was time to brace herself and face that night and all its horror.

She didn't reply for a moment, then nodded jerkily. "Yeah, I'll do it." She sat down on the couch and placed the sheet of stationery on the coffee table in front of her. "Let's get it over with."

He handed her his pencil and several sheets of paper. "Anything else?"

"Just be quiet." She rested her hands on the desk and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly and deeply, trying to release the tension that had consumed her in the past several days. Ever since that awful night…

Can you come over here for a moment, Hannah?

Conner's voice.

Not quite, she realized. It sounded lower and more hollow. Was she already forgetting what he sounded like?

Can you come over here for a moment, Hannah? I've found something… weird.

Better. That was Conner. He'd called out to her as she was squinting through her camera viewfinder. At what? The recessed area behind the antiquated submarine navigational computer, she remembered. She could see the cracked insulation on the wires…

In a minute, she'd told him. She snapped another picture before turning to face him.

He wore the gray sweater, jeans, brown tennis shoes, and the cologne he wore whenever they were on or near the ocean. He liked the way that the salt air interacted with it.

Conner, in his last moments on earth.

Christ.

What is it? She snapped another picture.

There's another metal plate bolted to this surface metal.

She looked at the plate but saw nothing engraved on its surface.

Damn.

She and Conner unscrewed the last two bolts. She'd teased him and he'd smiled.

God, Conner…

She rested the plate on the floor. The work lights hit it and-

Pay dirt.

She froze the image in her mind and scribbled furiously on the piece of stationery in front of her.

"Incredible," Kirov murmured.

"Shut up."

She wrote faster, as if the image in her mind might evaporate at any moment.

Triangle, straight line, triangle, circle…

She filled the entire page with symbols she didn't understand. She reached the bottom, tossed it aside, and started another.

Wavy line, rectangle with three circles inside…

Finished.

The image disappeared as the movie in her mind continued. She looked from the plate to Conner's bewildered expression.

So what do we do with it? Turn it over to the museum? Conner placed the other two plates on the floor.

As they caught the light, she could read most of the markings on the other two plates. She mentally froze the images and scribbled quickly, filling three more sheets of stationery.

She finally threw down the pencil. "That's all. It's all I can make out."

Kirov gently brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears she hadn't realized were there. "Thank you, Hannah."

She couldn't bear the gentleness. She was too near breaking. She leaned forward to pick up the pages. "So what do these tell you?"

He studied the coordinates. "That Silent Thunder spent some time in or near the Black Sea." He frowned as he pointed at a symbol at the end of the third plate. "This symbol isn't Samsovian. I don't recognize it." He looked up at her. "And the final piece appears to be missing. Are you sure there wasn't more?"

"Not that I saw." Her eyes widened. "You thought that if I went over what happened that night, I might remember something else?" She shook her head, and said shakily, "Sorry to disappoint you. I can't remember something that wasn't there. All I could tell you was what happened that night. And none of it was good, damn you."

"I had to know."

"I know. I know." She looked away from him. "I didn't do it for you. We have to find that cradle before Pavski does. He killed Conner to get it. I won't let that bastard get his hands on it. I would have done it anyway."

"But you wouldn't have done it now, when the pain is still so fresh."

"Maybe not." She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hand. Why couldn't she keep these damn tears from flowing? "But I did it. Are you happy?"

"No." He said haltingly, "I'm hurting because you're hurting. I didn't expect this. I don't like it."

"Tough."

"I… want to make it right."

"You can't make me stop hurting. It was my choice. I knew what would happen when I tried to pull up those memories."

"And so did I. I made you open the past and remember." He paused. "Would it help if I let you do the same to me?"

Her gaze swung back to him. "What?"

"I can't relive it, the way I made you do, but I'll answer anything you ask of me."

She stared at him warily. "Anything?"

"Anything."

"You're not Ivanov, are you?"

He slowly shook his head. "It's pretty obvious you suspected that. Bradworth?"

"He warned Cathy you were probably lying to all of us. That the real Ivanov was dead."

"It took him a long time to find that out." He grimaced. "It's inconvenient that he managed to put it together at this particular time. Did he tell you who I am?"

"I don't think he knows." She stared him in the eye. "Who are you?"

"My name is Andre Kocineyv."

"And?"

"I was captain of Silent Thunder."

She shook her head.

"You don't believe me?"

"I've seen pictures of the captain. I've seen his file."

"Complete fabrications."

She made a rude sound.

He smiled. "You're not making this easy for me. I'm baring my soul, and you're being very disrespectful."

"This is the fourth identity you've come up with since I met you. You remind me of that old Cary Grant movie where he played a CIA man who changed identities every other scene. What do you do? Pick them out of a hat? This one is completely bizarre."

"As you know, the Russian Navy has always been fond of renaming its submarines in order to hide the true numbers and location of its fleet. They also took great pains to hide the identities of their senior commanders. I understand the U.S. Navy does the same thing."

Hannah slowly nodded. "I know the U.S. fighter pilots' identities are often kept secret."

"Of course. Otherwise, a country's enemies could cripple it with just a few strike teams to assassinate the most critical personnel. Vladzar was a name that was on the Silent Thunder command logs for years, but he never existed. I'm surprised they bothered to create a biography and history for him, but that may have been a late addition for the benefit of your museumgoers. The last thing they'd want to reveal is that the sub's real commander left in such disgrace."

"In disgrace?"

"Everything else I told you is the truth. But Pavski had the GRU on my heels from the moment I escaped. I managed to stage my death in a boating accident trying to escape the Shore Patrol in Belarus." He made a face. "Naturally, my body was never recovered."

"Ivanov," she prompted.

"I wanted to try to get my stepbrother out of Russia and tracked him down. He was wounded by GRU agents while we were on the run and later died. Later I took his identity. I don't know how the hell they found out that the real Ivanov was dead." His gaze narrowed. "Or maybe I do. Pavski may have tipped them. It would make sense that he'd want to stir up as much trouble for me with the CIA as he could."

"He knows who you are?"

"He didn't know right away, but I did a good job of cleaving my way through a number of his associates and goon squad. He might have gotten a description of me at some point and put two and two together. He probably did. I'm good, but I'm not the invisible man." He smiled. "And I'm sorry I'm not the father figure you imagined."

There was no one who looked less phantomlike than the man standing before her, and he was definitely not fatherly. "It's true? You're not bullshitting me?"

"I'm not bullshitting." He looked down at the navigational drawings. "You gave to me. I gave to you." He turned to leave. "Good night, Hannah."

"Wait." She paused. "All those books in the cabin. They were your books, right? That wasn't a lie."

"They were my books." He lifted his brows. "Why?"

"I just wondered. Good night, Kirov."

He didn't move, his gaze on her face. "Ah, you're still trying to identify me with the type of captain you wanted to command Silent Thunder."

"Perhaps. I found a photo of a woman in one of those books. Mira?"

He nodded. "She gave me a new photo every time I put to sea. She said if I was going to go off with her greatest rival, she needed to show me a face of infinite variety."

"She was beautiful."

"Inside and out. I didn't deserve her." He opened the door. "And for an arrogant bastard like me to admit that is a tribute in itself."

She sat there staring thoughtfully at the door after it had closed behind him. He probably was as arrogant as he claimed. Command required a certain amount of ego and arrogance, and Kirov would have been a great leader. He had drive and intelligence and the ability to make smart decisions quickly.

And his ego hadn't gotten in the way when she'd designated him to support status on the LISA, she remembered. He hadn't liked it, but he'd accepted the best course and stepped down.

It was strange thinking of him as captain of that sub. She had a sudden memory of the expression on his face as he stood in the control room. Passion. Nostalgia. Power. Hell, perhaps his wife had a right to be jealous of Silent Thunder.

And she shouldn't be sitting here analyzing the mystery of Kirov. The evening had been exhausting and emotional, and she had learned more about the man than she wanted to know. She needed to keep him at a distance, and it would be difficult to do that now that she was beginning to realize how he thought, what made him tick. She stood up and moved toward the bathroom. A shower and then bed. Call Cathy?

No, she had phoned her before they had started for Florida, and it was better to call with a fait accompli than a progress report. Of course, she could tell her about Niler's pretty necklace, and that would really freak her out.

Just go to bed and forget Kirov and Cathy and everything else for a few hours, she thought wearily. Being with Kirov was like living in an exotic third-world country where nothing was comfortable or predictable. Just when she thought she was on solid ground, he pulled the rug out from under her as he had tonight.

But tomorrow, she'd be cool and steady and ready for anything he had in store for her.

Tomorrow…

I haven't found out anything yet, Kirov," Eugenia said when she answered the call Kirov made when he got back to his room. "Don't bother me."

"I'm not nagging. I'm going to send you a picture on my phone. I'm circling the symbol I want you to trace. The rest are navigational symbols."

"And this one isn't?"

"No. I'm not sure what it is yet."

"And I'm supposed to find out." Eugenia sighed. "Now I'm a decoder?"

"At least try to point me in the right direction. No news?"

"I managed to find out that Pavski's contact in the GRU is Danzyl. He's clever, money-hungry, and lethal. He's looking for a statue."

"Statue?"

"I thought it was pretty weird. But that's what he's been researching in his computer. I tapped it, and so far he's coming up with nothing. I'm wondering if maybe Pavski found a picture of Heiser in front of a statue. What do you think?"

"It's possible."

"It's my best guess so far. This afternoon Danzyl went to Heiser's old apartment building. No statue."

"The symbol will reach you a few minutes after I hang up." He paused. "We're running out of time."

"Okay. Okay. I'll work on it." She paused. "It's strange being here this time, Kirov. Lately, when I've come to Moscow, it's been as a high-powered businesswoman. This time I feel… déjà vu." She chuckled. "Of course, I have been here before and doing these same things. But it seems like another life. At first, I was a little uneasy."

"And now?"

"I'm beginning to like it. It's exhilarating. I thought I was done with the old life, but there's something about walking on the edge…"

"Not too close to the edge, Eugenia."

"Never. I like living too much." She added briskly, "Now hang up, and I'll study your pretty little symbol. It probably only takes a keen eye and a brilliant mind like mine to make sense of it."

Kirov smiled as he hung up the phone. Eugenia would probably be up half the night puzzling over the symbol once she saw it. She was curious as a cat.

His smile faded as he looked down at the piece of stationery. He half expected there to be tears on the paper. Hannah's tears.

Stop brooding. He'd done what he'd had to do, dammit. Now get the symbol to Eugenia and try to make the reason for those tears have meaning.

PANAMA CITY

9:00 P.M.

I've logged my fair share of time in car backseats along these beaches." Niler smiled. "I far prefer that activity to doing this."

"Taking a phone call from a mass murderer?" Hannah asked. "I'd say anything would be preferable."

They were sitting in the rental car on a lonely stretch of beach as Kirov tested the connection between Niler's cell phone and the three-way splitter he had bought at Radio Shack that afternoon. Niler sat in back, setting up the proxy server connection on Kirov's laptop. He wore a telephone headset, while Kirov and Hannah sat in front wearing simple stereo headphones.

"Remember, Pavski said he may call," Niler said. "Koppel wouldn't give me any guarantees."

"For your sake, I hope he comes through," Kirov said.

"Was that a threat?"

"Only in an economic sense. The bonus I promised you is riding on it."

"No guarantees." Niler leaned back in his seat. "And I should tell you that I may be moving away after we conclude our business this weekend. You can count me out."

"You're closing the TNT bar?" Hannah asked.

"I'll sell it. I get offers all the time. You wouldn't believe how many uptight Wall Street moguls dream of retiring and running their own beachfront party bar."

"Why are you leaving?" Kirov asked.

"I need to get back under the radar. When you two run across one of my bombs and know right where to find me, that tells me something. I've been having a good time here, but it's only a matter of time before my luck will run out. I'm going to disappear into the sunset. Don't you think I-" Niler's cell phone suddenly blared Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust."

"You might want to try a new ringtone," Hannah suggested dryly.

"Shhh." Niler checked the laptop display screen. "I think this may be him. Are we ready?"

Hannah and Kirov adjusted their headphones and nodded.

Niler pushed the TALK button. "Speak to me."

"You're the one who insisted on this conversation," the caller said impatiently. "Perhaps you should speak to me."

Russian accent, sharp, precise enunciation. Pavski. The knowledge that he was on the other end of the line made Hannah's chest tighten. She glanced at Kirov.

His grim expression confirmed it.

"I've had a few problems lately," Niler said. "A few seconds- and thirds-in-command have been placing orders without their bosses' okay, and I've had trouble collecting payments."

"How foolish," Pavski said. "It's not a good idea to anger some-one in your profession."

"I took care of the problem. Anyway, I recognize your voice. Your package will be ready this weekend."

"No, I want it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm on my way there now. Same plan, same place, just a different day."

"But your devices aren't ready."

"Make them ready."

Niler was clearly flustered. "It's-It's not that simple. Your man said-"

"Forget what he said. You're talking to me now. That's what you wanted, isn't it? To hear it from me?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Is the deal on or off? Because if you can't deliver, I need to make other arrangements."

Niler paused. "I can deliver."

"Good."

"It might help if I knew what you're trying to protect."

Silence. "It's not like you to ask so many questions."

"Different objects have different properties," Niler said. "Some materials are better able to absorb shock waves than others. It would be helpful for me to know-"

"It's nonexplosive, nonflammable material. Do your best."

"I always do."

"Good. See you tomorrow."

Click.

Niler switched off the phone.

Hannah threw off her headphones. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm really not surprised," Kirov said. "Pavski likes to keep the people around him slightly off-balance. It's his way of assuring that he always has the upper hand."

"There's another explanation," Hannah said. "He's already found the stash, and he's in a hurry to get your sentry bombs in place to protect it."

"In any case, this moves things up a few days." Kirov turned to Niler. "Can you be ready?"

He shrugged. "Looks like I'll have to be, doesn't it?"

"Do you need anything from us?"

Niler smiled. "I saw the looks on both of your faces when his voice came through. When you finally lay eyes on him, all I'll need is a chance to get the hell out of your way."