"What are you doing here this late?" the second guard asked, taking a sip of coffee as Scorcelli retrieved his belongings.

"First opportunity the DIA's had to interview him," Scorcelli said. The first guard consulted his log to double-check that fact- he was the first DIA representative here today. "This is the.

CIA's and the Air Force's ballgarne. We just want to see what the guy has to say. I understand he wants to make a deal."

"Go ahead," the guard said. "Twenty minutes, max. Doc- tor's orders Scorcelli entered Maraklov's room and closed the door-and was immediately grabbed from behind by another guard. "You scared the crap out of me," Scorcelli said.

"Sorry," was all the guard said, but he didn't loosen his grip.

-talkie the guard car- Scorcelli then heard two beeps on a walkie ried on his belt, and the guard replied with two beeps of his own. Finally the guard released him. "Go ahead, sir."

forgot what I was going to "Man, with all these searches I ask this guy," Scorcelli said - The guard smiled and walked back to his seat on the far side of the roorn.

"Where's our friend?"

"Taking a leak," the guard said. He got up and knocked on the door to the adjacent bathroom. "Someone to see you."

"I'll be out in a minute," Maraklov called from inside the bathroom.

"He doesn't sound like a Russian to me," Scorcelli said.

501.

"He's a Russian, all right. He says he's been trained to act like an American. Can you believe it?"

I 'Sounds weird." Scorcelli unbuttoned his jacket, then pulled Out the small notebook and a pen. He was about to write some- thing when he looked up at the floor beside a sofa near the wall.

"You got rats in here."

When the guard walked in front of Scorcelli to check for rats, Scorcelli jabbed the point of the pen into his neck. The guard was conscious just long enough to reach up to his neck, then instantly fell asleep. Scorcelli lowered him to the floor, dragged him out of sight, then took his sidearm from his holster. Hiding behind the bathroom door, Scorcelli took the second pen from his shirt pocket, twisted the cap and pressed the pocket-clip.

When Maraklov emerged from the bathroom, Scorcelli reached around behind him, grabbed his chin with his left hand, pulled his head over to the left to expose his neck and pressed in the point of the pen. When he depressed a plunger, a one- inch long needle shot out and injected its contents directly into Maraklov's carotid artery.

Maraklov managed to push Scorcelli away, but the poison was already starting to take effect. He sagged to his knees, trying but unable to call for help. He strained to focus his eyes on Scorcelli. "What . . . who are you?"

"Don't you remember, buddy?" Scorcelli said. "JC.'mon, you remember.

Maraklov shook his head.

"You're a smart guy, Ken. You remember. I'll give you a hint.

We went to school together." Maraklovs eyes suddenly opened, and he struggled to get to his feet. Scorcelli put a hand on his shoulder, and in Maraklov's weakened condition it was easy to hold him steady.

"I'm your old buddy, Tony Scorcelli, " the DIA "agent" said.

"Remember? We played softball together. I'll never forget that last game we played, Ken, the one we played just before you went to Hawaii. You got me busted back after that little scuffle, did you know that? I wanted to go to law school in the United States. But after that fight, Roberts busted me back and I ended up in a nowhere little job in the DIA pushing papers."

Maraklov tried to rise again but was too weak. "But I got an interesting call from my handler the other day, and guess what?

The KGB wants my old buddy Ken James dead. It seems he 502 .

began spilling his guts to the Americans. Actually wanted to defect or something like that. Fell in love with an airplane, can you beat it? There was word that he was responsible for killing that nympho, secretary back at the Academy. When I heard all this I just had to run right over from Washington, get myself clearance to enter your little condo here . . . "

Scorcelli pulled Maraklov up and sat him on the chair. "Sorry I can't stay and shoot the breeze, old buddy, as us Americans say, but you've got a date in hell and I'm on my way back to my Black Sea condo. It's beautiful there this time of year."

Just then the door opened behind Scorcelli and McLanahan and Briggs walked in. "Hey," McLanahan called out when he saw Scorcelli standing over Maraklov. "What the hell are you doing? "

Briggs drew his sidearm just as Scorcelli reached for the gun he had taken from the drugged guard. He pushed McLanahan aside, fired one shot into Scorcelli's chest and dropped him.

Briggs checked over Scorcelli and the Air Force guard as more security agents ran into the room. McLanahan went over to Mar- aklov.

"Ammonium cyanide," Maraklov got out, barely strong enough to draw breath. "Standard KGB issue. Scorcelli's KGB.

Deep cover, like me . . . "

McLanahan found the doctor's call button and pressed it.

"Easy . . . "

"No, listen. Wall safe in my apartment . . . behind the book- case. Careful . . . I wired it. Names of KGB handlers and Acad- emy grads. Not many but it'll help . Dying, he looked as if he was falling asleep.