She stiffened. "Choice?"
"More coffee?" He gestured to the waitress to refill the cups. "We should get back to the sub. I want to spend more time in the turbine room."
"Choice?" She stared at him as memories of that night rushed back to her.
Icy water. Drowning. Drowning.
Stop fighting me. I'm trying to help you.
She whispered. "You were the one who pulled me out of the water that night."
He shrugged. "You were unconscious. You would have drowned."
"So you let Conner die instead."
"I wasn't sure your brother would be killed. I knew you'd die. There are always choices to make in situations like that."
"You should have gone to Conner."
"Probably. I might have saved him and kept the plates from Pavski. Since I'm such a self-serving bastard, that choice amazed me later." He looked her in the eye. "But I didn't do it, and there's no going back."
She could feel the tears sting her eyes. "No, there's no going back."
"But we can move forward. Revenge is sweet. Take it from someone who knows."
Her lips twisted. "And you know that emotion very well, don't you? How many people have you killed, Kirov?"
"Not as many as Pavski."
"That's no answer."
"That's all you'll get from me." He threw some money on the table. "Let's get back to the sub. I want our search over before Pavski figures out how to bypass Bradworth's men to get to me."
"You believe he's watching us?"
"Of course. Bradworth and Pavski both. You're the magnet that draws all of us. Pavski evidently found the plates to be incomplete and thinks that wonderful memory of yours may give him something else to work with. Bradworth and I need you to draw him out in the open."
"Then why do you think Pavski wants to get to you as well as me?"
"Because I stand in the way." He stood up. "I've stood in his way for a long time, but I've never let him get this close before. When I decided to come to you, I put myself in the spotlight instead of in the shadows. It makes me more vulnerable."
She rose to her feet. "Then why did you do it?"
"Because you're more valuable to me right now than anonymity." He smiled. "Choices, again."
"Well, this particular choice may have been a bust. We're not finding anything on the Silent Thunder."
"We'll give it the rest of the night. Then we move on." He headed for the door of the café. "If one door closes, then you open another." He glanced at her. "If you choose to go along with me. It's up to you."
"You're damn right it is." She paused. "And what door do you plan on opening?"
"I have a few contacts who might help us locate Pavski. But we'll have to lose Bradworth. If you consider him a safety net, that's too bad. My friends aren't fond of the CIA."
She thought about it. "My experiences with Bradworth haven't been very reassuring. But if we're being watched by him as well as Pavski, how do you intend to do that? It's a very small town."
He smiled as he opened the door for her. "Then we'll just have to go to a bigger town, won't we? Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow morning?"
"What?"
"I've done a little research about the town since the Silent Thunder arrived here. I think you'll find a little restaurant called Mrs. Finley's Kitchen very interesting."
You lost her?" Bradworth said between his teeth into the phone. "How in the hell did you lose her?"
Agent Teague stammered. "It was the restaurant. That Mrs. Finley's kitchen. I didn't know-I didn't read the back of the menu until later."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I stationed Willis at the back entrance and I watched the front. I thought that would be enough, but it-"
"How did they get away, dammit?"
"The restaurant has a secret underground exit that lets out in a shed about half a block away. It's been there since the Revolutionary War days."
Bradworth couldn't believe what he was hearing. "A secret exit."
"Not so secret, actually. There's a whole write-up about it on the back of the menu. I talked to the manager, and she says Ms. Bryson and Kirov went in back and asked to walk through it."
"How long has it been since they flew the coop?"
"Forty minutes. We're in the car now, scouting the area."
Forty minutes. Kirov would have a plan and an escape route, and forty minutes was more than enough time for him to implement it.
"Shit!"
NEW YORK CITY
4:48 P.M.
What makes you think this friend of yours can help us?" Hannah asked Kirov as they walked down East 51st Street, past Lexington Avenue, and into a charming neighborhood of brownstones and small boutiques.
"Eugenia Voltar was one of the youngest and sharpest agents in the KGB's history." Kirov gaze was on the address on one of the buildings they were passing. "If anyone can help us, she can."
"KGB?"
He nodded. "However, she was never popular with the higher-ups there because she possessed the dangerous trait of speaking her mind. She was pushed out in the general downsizing, when the KGB became the FSB, and she eventually ended up here."
"She's a spy?"
"Not anymore. In the last few years, she's become quite wealthy by helping Western corporations move into Russia. She knows just which palms to grease to make anything happen." He cast a sideways glance at Hannah. "There was an arms trader I'd spent years searching for, and I finally found him with Eugenia's help."
"And what did you do when you found him?"
He didn't answer.
She hadn't really expected a reply. Kirov disclosed only what he chose to reveal about his life. In the past days she had found that sometimes he was surprisingly open, and at others he was completely uncommunicative. Just enough information to pique her curiosity and interest. Oh, yes, she couldn't deny the interest. He was a totally fascinating man, and every minute with him was a challenge. Yet she also was beginning to feel a strange sense of comfort and security when she was with him.
"Ah. Here we are." Kirov stopped. "318 East 51st Street. Nice place, don't you think?"
It was a converted brownstone with a fresh brick façade, red canopy, and a brass plaque that read CONNECTIONS INTERNATIONAL.
"Terrible name," Kirov said, as they climbed the short flight of stairs and rang the doorbell. "I told Eugenia she should have used more imagination. It sounds like a dating service."
A youthful female voice came from the speaker box. "Yes?"
Kirov looked up at a security camera and winked.
Laughter pealed from the speaker box. "Kirov, you devil. I knew you couldn't stay away. You're powerless to resist me, you know." The voice was an intriguing mixture of Russian and British accents.
"So you keep telling me, Eugenia. Are you going to buzz me in, or am I going to stand out here like a panhandler?"
"I'm still deciding. I'm offended that, after all these months, you finally choose to visit me with such a pretty young woman at your side. Tsk, tsk. Very bad form, Kirov."
"You know I only have eyes for you, my dear."
"Ah, that's the charming liar I know and love."
The door buzzed. Kirov opened it and held it open for Hannah as they entered the foyer.
Before they'd even closed the door behind them, a petite young woman flew down a flight of stairs and threw her arms around Kirov. "I can't believe it! I thought you were dead, or worse, married and living in the suburbs!" She drew back and checked his left hand. "You're not, are you?"
Kirov smiled and kissed her cheek. "You know me better than that." He motioned to Hannah. "Eugenia, this is-"
Before Kirov could finish the sentence, Eugenia threw her arms around Hannah as if they were long-lost friends. "So nice to meet you! You are-?"
"Hannah Bryson."
"Hannah!" Eugenia gave her another squeeze and frowned as she felt Hannah instinctively pull back. "Too much? Kirov keeps telling me I'm to
o demonstrative, but life's too short to curl up inside yourself like a snail. And any friend of Kirov's and all that… You are a friend?"
Hannah smiled. Eugenia's high spirits were contagious. Although Kirov indicated the woman had worked for the KGB more than a decade before, she couldn't be older than her late twenties or early thirties. She was a pretty, fair-skinned woman with shoulder-length brown hair and bright, lively dark eyes.
"Actually, we're more acquaintances than friends."
"Oh, then I take back the hug. But I like your honesty. Come along."
Kirov and Hannah followed Eugenia up the stairs to see that the entire second floor had been converted to a large, sleek office that looked as if it should have been the home base for the CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
"You like my office?" Eugenia said.
"It's beautiful," Hannah said, admiring the granite countertops, marble floor, and tall mahogany shelves.
"I hate it," Eugenia said. "It's not me at all. Too showy. But, if the head of a multibillion-dollar corporation is going to trust me to expand his company into Russia, he needs to see this to feel comfortable. I do most of my real work upstairs." Eugenia motioned for them to follow her. "We can talk up there."
They climbed another flight until they found themselves in a room about half the size of Eugenia's office. Hannah's initial impression was that they'd somehow stumbled upon a college dorm room. The walls were hot pink and decorated with posters of the Beatles, the Clash, and Bruce Springsteen. A Jimi Hendrix solo blared from the small stereo even though Hannah had heard no trace of it on the floor below.
Eugenia smiled proudly. "Much more personality, yes?"
Hannah nodded. "Yes. I like it."
Eugenia turned to Kirov. "I was most surprised to hear that the Silent Thunder lives. I thought it was sold for scrap and now part of thousands of poorly made Russian automobiles."
"No one was more surprised than I. Hannah is overseeing its modifications for the museum exhibit." He turned to Hannah. "I called Eugenia last night and brought her up to speed about the situation."
"It was very sad about your brother," Eugenia said. "I'm sorry for your sorrow. And I met Anton Leonovsky a few times, and I'm extremely happy to hear the bastard met such a horrible end."
"Then translate that happiness into action," Kirov said.
Eugenia smile faded. "Are you pushing, my friend? I don't like to be pushed."
For the first time Hannah saw the steel beneath that effervescent exterior. Tough. Very tough.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Kirov asked. "I'm not about to ruffle your feathers by taking you for granted."
Eugenia was silent for a moment, and then smiled. "I look gorgeous with ruffled feathers, and no one has a better right to take me for granted than you. What do you need from me?"
Kirov looked at Hannah. "Hit her now before she changes her mind."
"I need to know who killed my brother," Hannah said. "And I need to know where to find him."
"I have no crystal ball." Eugenia turned to Kirov. "I thought you said it was Pavski?"
"Hannah doesn't entirely trust my word on that."
"When you're such a straightforward, uncomplicated bastard?" She smiled at Hannah. "You're wise to doubt him if you have no proof. I certainly did at one time. But the chances are it's Pavski, or Kirov wouldn't be interested."
"Thanks for the unstinting recommendation," Kirov said dryly.
"I'd give you an unqualified recommendation in many circumstances, but not where Pavski is concerned." Her tone became businesslike. "If you want help, give me specifics."
"My source in Moscow told me that Pavski has sent out word that he's revving up for a big operation and needs extra manpower." He nodded at Hannah. "And her contribution to the drain on his manpower may make the recruiting even more urgent. He lost two more at that gas station." He paused. "And Pavski wanted something else that he didn't broadcast far and wide. He contacted a few old GRU contacts and asked to be sent certain records."
"What records?"
Kirov shrugged. "I don't know. I was lucky to get that much."
"And who is your Moscow source?" Eugenia asked.
"Blenoff."
"He's usually at least eighty percent accurate. It's probably worth acting on."
"I'm glad you don't think I'm spinning my wheels," he said dryly. "Since Pavski doesn't trust Americans, he's probably recruiting all his help from Russia."
"And?"
"You know the players, in Moscow and here, like no one else. If a Russian acquired a doctored passport to slip into the country, you'd be our best hope of finding out about it. I need to know who they are, how many, and who sent them."
"I'm surprised you don't want me to try to grab those GRU records," she said sarcastically.
"Considering you have such great contacts, I was considering it."
"I can try to find out what files they were, but that's the limit. The KGB and GRU were never good friends. Is that all?"
"A current street address would be nice."
"Of course." Eugenia shook her head. "Russia is a big country, and so is America. There's no way I can track the comings and goings of each and every-"
"Not each and every," Kirov said. "Probably ex-government men. Men who might want to slip into the country undetected. Maybe some with a naval background. You know the people who can facilitate that kind of thing, don't you? There can't be that many."
"You'd be surprised." She thought for a moment. "But there aren't many who can do it well enough to suit the likes of Pavski. I can look into it, but it's still no guarantee that I'll be able-"
"We don't expect guarantees. Just your best effort. I'll pay well, Eugenia. Do we have a deal?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "A deal? No."
"But you said-"
"A deal, my dear Kirov, implies a mutually beneficial transaction. This is a favor. I want you to owe me for a change." She glanced at Hannah. "Don't worry, I'm very good. You will see."
"I'm sure I will," Hannah said. "Thank you."
A radiant smile lit Eugenia's face. "I think I like you. You're sincere. That's rare in this counterfeit world." She went to the carved table in the foyer and opened a black enamel box. "You may need a place to stay. Hotels are never safe. I own the brownstone at the end of the block and keep it available for clients. I don't want them invading my space." She tossed Kirov a set of keys. "If I have time after I've contacted my sources, I'll come over tonight and have a drink with you." She grabbed a yellow legal pad and cranked up the music. "Now out of here, both of you. Dow-Corning wants to build a sixty-five-floor office building in the heart of Moscow, and I have to think of a way to make the Russian government pay for it."
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."
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