"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 interesti
ng 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."
ELEVEN
"It's good to see them doing so well." Congressman Preston stared out the sliding glass door of Cathy's kitchen at Ronnie and Donna playing in the backyard with an assortment of Star Wars toys. "They're amazing kids."
"I'm lucky. Ronnie is taking charge of Donna. He keeps her busy. Heck, he tries to take charge of me, too." Cathy poured coffee into George's cup. "It's worse at night. At bedtime they're alone with their thoughts, and there's nothing to distract them." She stared blindly out the door. "I thought I was so tough, but I'm not. How can I help them when I can't even help myself? How does anyone recover from something like this, George?"
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But they will heal. And so will you."
"I know we will. It's just difficult to see that time right now." She sat down across from him at the kitchen table. "So what brings you here?"
"I wanted to see how you're doing."
"Uh-huh. You could have picked up the phone. So why are you here?"
"You don't think I'm sincere?"
"You're very sincere. But you're an extremely busy man, and you just saw me at your office a few days ago. What's up, George?"
He shrugged. "The CIA called me yesterday. A man named Bradworth."
"Why?"
"Because they weren't pleased about my information-gathering on Silent Thunder. Evidently it aroused some interest at Langley."
Her eyes widened. "Are you serious? What did you tell him?"
"The truth. I don't lie to U.S. intelligence agents. Particularly when he said your sister-in-law may be in danger. It seems she's associating with a man, Kirov, who may not be trustworthy."
She frowned. "I never heard of this Kirov. She called me a couple days ago and told me she was tracking down a lead. But Hannah wouldn't keep secrets from me if it concerned Conner's death. Bradworth told you this?"
"You know Bradworth?"
"I met him the day Conner died. Hannah doesn't trust him."
"Well, he's very concerned about her. He's afraid that this man might be using her for his own purposes."
"What purposes?"
"Search me. But if you talk to her, it might be wise to tell her to come home."
"Why didn't Bradworth come and talk to me himself about this?"
Preston didn't respond.
Cathy stared at him for a long moment as the realization hit. "He wanted you to talk to me."
"Cathy, I-"
"He thought it would carry more weight coming from someone I trusted."
"Okay, he did want me to talk to you. But I didn't argue with him. If your sister-in-law has even a possibility of being in danger, I thought you should know."
"So now I know." Cathy stood up. "Tell Bradworth you completed your errand. You can also tell him to talk to me directly from now on."
He made a face. "Believe me, I will."
"You'd better go."
"Cathy, if there's anything I-"
She made an impatient gesture to stop him. "George, I know you meant well, but I'm disappointed that you let anyone use you like this. It's going to take a little while to come to terms with it."
"No one used me. I did what I thought best, Cathy," he said gently.
She nodded jerkily. "I can't see that right now. I'll call you later, George."
"Do that." He got up to leave. "And think long and hard about leaving Hannah out on a limb like this."
She stared at the door as it closed behind him. She was bitterly disappointed in George. He'd always been totally up-front with her, and yet this time he'd let Bradworth convince him to be his errand boy. What the devil was happening?
And who the hell is this Kirov, Hannah?
Dananka watched Congressman Preston leave Cathy Bryson's house and climb behind the wheel of his energy-efficient hybrid car. Good for a few thousand votes from the Sierra Club, he thought.
He'd been ordered to trail the congressman and watch for any sign of Hannah Bryson. What total bullshit. The bitch had gotten what she needed from Preston, and there was no reason to think she'd be back.
Perhaps this stakeout was punishment for his handling of the Samsova matter in Russia. Christ, Pavski never specified that Samsova was to be left alive. In Dananka's mind, the assignment was a major success. After all, they now possessed the charts and teaching materials from the old man.
His cell phone beeped.
"Where's Preston?" Pavski asked.
"He's leaving Cathy Bryson's place." Dananka hesitated. "Are you sure this surveillance is necessary? The chances of Hannah Bryson's meeting with the congressman again aren't that good."
"Don't worry, Dananka. Sometimes the obvious target isn't the true one. Don't let Preston out of your sight. I'll call you with further instructions."
Dananka smiled. "Understood."
No sign of Hannah Bryson," Teague said as he came into Bradworth's office. "And the agent doing surveillance at Cathy Bryson's home reports she hasn't shown up there."
"Damn." Not that it surprised him. Kirov wouldn't have let Hannah surface if he chose not to do it. He knew all the tricks. Which left Bradworth no option but to sit and twiddle his thumbs until the bastard decided to get in contact with him. He'd used Congressman Preston to intercede with Cathy Bryson once, but he doubted if he could get him to do it again. "Keep looking. I need that woman-"
His phone rang, and he started to ignore it. Then he saw it was Sordberg, the director. He picked up. "Bradworth."
"What the hell is happening?" Sordberg asked. "Have you screwed up, Bradworth?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"My assistant just got a phone call. Get the hell up here. We have to talk. You have some explaining to do."
FAIRFIELD, CONNECTICUT
9:25 A.M.
There he is," Kirov said to Hannah.
A mustached man in his late fifties was unlocking the antique store's accordion-style security gate.
"Are yo
u sure he's the one we're looking for?" Hannah asked.
Kirov nodded. "Boris Petrenko."
"How do you know?"
"I downloaded his driver's license photo to my laptop last night."
"Breaking into a secured Web site?"
"No, I had a friend who did that for me."
"You evidently have the ability to tap many people in many places for favors."
"Any objection?"
How could she object when she'd done the same thing to find Kirov? "No." She got out of the rental car. "Let's go."
Petrenko stared at Kirov and Hannah with a frown as they entered the shop. "I'm sorry, I'm not open yet." His brow wrinkled. "I thought I locked that door."
"You did." Kirov locked the glass door behind him. "We're here to inquire about some merchandise not on display. Your real merchandise is in the back room, isn't it? Or perhaps downstairs?"
He stiffened warily. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't worry, Mr. Petrenko. I'm no customs agent. My name is Kirov." He gestured to Hannah. "Hannah Bryson. We just want some information."
Petrenko moved toward the main sales counter in the large, musty showroom. "I don't sell information. I've found that it's too hazardous to my health."
"Oh, I don't want you to sell it to me. I expect you to give it to me."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because it would be hazardous to your health not to do it." He added, "And please don't step any closer to that counter. You're making me nervous. You don't want that to happen."
Petrenko stopped short. "I really can't help you."
"You won't know that until you try."
Hannah stepped forward. "Mr. Petrenko, I can't tell you how important this is to us. Please help us."
Petrenko glanced at her and his expression softened. "I'd like to help you. But it's not-"
"We need to know about the three men you picked up last weekend," Kirov said. "Two questions: who were they and who hired you?"
Petrenko's gaze shifted from Hannah and narrowed on Kirov. "Who the hell are you?"
"No one who gives a damn about your midnight imports. However, if you don't help us, I won't hesitate to inform some people who do care. Believe me, U.S. Customs would be the least of your problems. Many countries are quite protective of their treasures, and they can be ruthless in dealing with individuals who appropriate them."
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