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 pul
l 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.
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