"Off the top of my head, Mr. President, I would say they have at least a little more, enough of it so they can leave us a couple more samples."

"And that's all they have?"

"Mr. President, we leveled and then burned everything in a twenty-mile radius of the Fish Farm. Either we somehow missed this, or they had some of it in a laboratory in Russia. Or someplace else. My gut tells me there's not much of Congo-X anywhere."

"But we don't know that, do we?" Clendennen asked.

"No, sir, we don't."

"Why would Putin do something like this?" Clendennen wondered aloud.

"Was that a question, Mr. President?" Mark Schmidt, the director of the FBI, asked.

"Does that mean you have an answer?"

"No, sir. Just that I've been thinking about motive."

"Well, out with it."

"For one thing, we humiliated the Russians when we took out the Fish Farm," Schmidt said. "For another, Castillo and his people-"

"My predecessors' loose cannon and his merry band of outlaws humiliated the Russians?" the President interrupted, sarcastically incredulous.

"Yes, sir. Castillo and his people have not only humiliated the Russians-which is to say Putin-all over Europe and South America but-according to what the Russian told Frank-has killed a lot of them. I think it's credible that Putin did know some of them personally, and wants revenge."

"Madam Secretary?" the President asked.

Natalie Cohen nodded her agreement with Schmidt's theory.

"And he could well be reasoning that we really don't want a confrontation when that could be avoided by returning their two defectors. We can't give him Castillo, of course-"

"Why can't we?" the President asked.

"Jesus Christ!" Lammelle exclaimed.

"Let's go down that road," Clendennen said. "No. Of course we can't give him Colonel Castillo or any of his people. As much as I might want to. But we can go along with that notion ..."

"Let me go on the record here," Natalie Cohen said. "I will not be part of any agreement which will turn over the two defectors, much less Colonel Castillo or any of his people, to the Russians."

"Duly noted," President Clendennen said. "Let me finish, please. I said we can let the Russians think think we're willing to give them all three of them. So far as the Russians are concerned, we weren't responsible for their defection." we're willing to give them all three of them. So far as the Russians are concerned, we weren't responsible for their defection."

"Castillo flew them out of Vienna on his plane, Mr. President," Powell said. "And if he hadn't, we had a plane waiting at Schwechat to do the same thing."

"If they had gotten on a plane sent by the CIA, Mr. Powell," the President said coldly, "we would have some sort of moral obligation to protect them. They didn't. Castillo was not acting on behalf of the U.S. government when he flew them to South America. Therefore, we have no such moral obligation."

"I don't agree with that at all, Mr. President," Powell said.

"I don't care, Mr. Powell, if you agree with it or not. I'm telling you that's the way it is."

He let that sink in for a moment, and then went on: "Madam Secretary, I want you to call in the Argentine amba.s.sador and tell him that it has come to our attention that there are two people in his country illegally ... what are their names?"

"Presumably, Mr. President, you are referring to Dmitri Berezovsky and Svetlana Alekseeva," she said.

"... for whom Interpol has issued warrants alleging the embezzlement of several millions of dollars."

"Excuse me, Mr. President," Mark Schmidt said. "Interpol has canceled those warrants at the request of the Russian Federation. Three days ago. Berezovsky and Alekseeva are no longer fugitives."

"You're sure?" the President said.

"Yes, sir. I'm sure."

"Well, so much for that idea," the President said. "That would have been easier. We'll have to come up with something else. So here's what we're going to do: Lammelle, get in touch with your Russian and tell him he has a deal."

"Am I to tell him the deal includes Colonel Castillo?"

"Yes. I told you I was not about to turn over an American to those Russian b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, but if they think I am, so much the better for us."

"Yes, sir."

That sonofab.i.t.c.h is lying through his teeth. He'd happily turn Castillo over to the Russians, or anyone else, if it would get him out of this mess.

"The next step is to locate the Russians. You think they're in Argentina?"

"I have no idea where they are, Mr. President," DCI Powell said.

"Well, I want them found and I want them found quickly. Do whatever has to be done. Send as many people down there-or to anywhere else you think they might be-and find them. Run down the people who used to work for Castillo. See if they know where the Russians are. And Castillo is."

"Yes, sir."

"This is a no-brainer, Mr. Powell. If we can get these Russian b.a.s.t.a.r.ds to keep that stuff out of the country, and all it costs us is giving them back two traitors, that's a price I can live with. I've always thought that people who change sides are despicable."

"Even if the side they change from is despicable, Mr. President?" Natalie Cohen asked.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that, Madam Secretary," the President of the United States said.

[THREE].

Penthouse B The Grand Cozumel Beach & Golf Resort Cozumel Quintana Roo, Mexico 1310 7 February 2007

A good deal of conversation and thought had not shot many holes in the scenario of what was probably going on, but on the other hand it also hadn't done much to confirm it.

Neither had "all the agency intel" that Casey had furnished. The CIA's a.n.a.lysts also seemed to feel the Congo-X sent to Fort Detrick and left for the Border Patrol to find on the Mexican border had most probably come from the Fish Farm in the Congo. But they had no idea how it had been moved from Africa to the United States, and apparently had not considered that the Tupolev Tu-934A might have been involved.

Castillo had called Casey and asked him to see if his source could find anything about Tupolevs moving anywhere, and again asked him to send any intel, no matter how unimportant or unrelated it might seem.

The only thing to do was wait for something to happen. Everybody was frustrated, but everybody also knew that sitting around with your finger in your ear-or other body orifice-waiting for something to happen was what intelligence gathering was really all about.

So everybody but Castillo, Svetlana, Pevsner, and Tom Barlow had gone deep-sea fishing on a forty-two-foot Bertram owned by the Grand Cozumel Beach & Golf Resort.

Castillo had seen everybody's departure as an opportunity. But Tom Barlow had come to the penthouse and asked if he wanted to play chess before he could take advantage of the opportunity. Castillo no more wanted to play chess than he wanted to lunch on raw iguana, but the alternative was saying, "No, thanks, as I'm planning to spend the morning increasing my carnal knowledge of your sister."

When the door chime went off, they were playing chess, and Svetlana-in a bikini-was taking in the sun on a chaise longue by the pool, with Max lying beside her.

The latter went to answer the door.

Aleksandr Pevsner, Janos, and another man were standing there.

Before Pevsner knew what was happening, Max put his paws on Pevsner's shoulders and licked his face.

"Look at that!" Tom Barlow called happily. "Max loves you, Alek."

And then he recognized the man with Pevsner and exclaimed, "I'll be d.a.m.ned!"

The man with Pevsner was plump, ruddy-faced, and in his early fifties. His short-sleeved blue shirt had wings and epaulets with the four stripes of a captain on it.

"Well, my G.o.d, look who's all grown up and wearing lipstick! And not much else," the man said, and spread his arms.

"Uncle Nicolai!" Svetlana cried happily and ran into his arms.

Castillo watched, then thought: Well, that explains that. Another relative. Well, that explains that. Another relative.

But what is Uncle Nicolai Nicolai doing here? doing here?

Tom Barlow was now waiting patiently for his chance to exchange hugs with Uncle Nicolai. When it came, the two embraced and enthusiastically pounded each other's back.

"Aleksandr said you were in Johannesburg," Svetlana said.

"I spend a good deal of time there," Uncle Nicolai said. He looked at Charley and offered his hand. In fluent, just slightly accented English, he said, "I'm Nicolai Tarasov."

"Charley Castillo."

"Who has captured Svetlana's heart. Alek told me."

"So what brings you to Cozumel by the Sea, Uncle Nicolai?" Castillo asked.

Tarasov avoided the question.

"Alek and I go back to our days with Aeroflot," Tarasov said. "When I tried without much success to teach him to fly Ilyushin Il-96s."

Castillo felt his temper turn on.

"Why don't you want to tell me what brings you to Cozumel by the Sea, Uncle Nicolai?" he repeated, then added: "Somehow I don't think this is a happy coincidence and that you're all going to sit around eating fried chicken and telling stories about Grandma."

"Why are you going out of your way to be unpleasant, Charley?" Svetlana asked.

Castillo switched to Russian: "Because Cousin Alek"-he pointed at Pevsner-"can't seem to get it through his thick Russian skull that since I'm running this operation, it's not nice to spring surprises on me. Like Uncle Nicolai just happening to drop in from Johannesburg to say hi."

"You speak Russian very well; you sound like you're from Saint Petersburg," Tarasov said. "Aleksandr told me you did. Just after he told me to be very, very careful not to underestimate you."

"I still don't have an answer," Castillo said.

"Just for the record, Charley," Tom Barlow said, "I'm as surprised to see Nicolai as you are."

"Goodbye, Uncle Nicolai," Castillo said, motioning toward the door. "The next time you're in town, make sure you call."

"Now, wait just a minute, Charley!" Pevsner flared.

"Why do I have to spend all my time making peace between you two?" Svetlana asked.

"Maybe because Alek the Terrible has trouble understanding I don't recognize him as the tsar," Charley said.

Both Barlow and Tarasov chuckled.

Pevsner gave them both an icy glare.

"'Alek the Terrible'?" Tarasov quoted. "I like that."

"I got in touch with Nicolai to see what he could contribute to our scenario," Pevsner said after a moment.

"And can he?" Castillo challenged, and then looked at Tarasov. "Can you?"

"I'm trying to run down something I heard, about an incident that took place at the El Obeid Airport in Sudan," Tarasov said. "That may take a little time. And I think there's at least a good chance that if a Tupolev Tu-934A was used in this operation, I know where they landed in Mexico."

"What took place in Sudan?"

"They found a lot of dead people at the burned-down airport," Tarasov said. "From what little I know so far, it sounds like something that one of Yakov Sirinov's Vega Groups would do. No witnesses."

"And the airport in Mexico?"

"Laguna el Guaje," Tarasov said. "In Coahuila State."

"Laguna el Guaje mean anything to you, Charley?" Pevsner asked.

Castillo shook his head.

"It's sort of the Mexican version of Groom Dry Lake Test Facility," Nicolai explained. "Far fewer aircraft, and different secrets."

Castillo knew that Groom Lake, on the vast Nellis Air Force Base near Las Vegas, was rumored to be where-in Area 51 thereon-the CIA was holding little green men from Mars, or elsewhere in the universe. He hadn't seen any of them when he had been to Area 51, but he had seen some very interesting experimental aircraft.

"I have never heard of either what you just said or Area 51," Castillo said. "But if I had, and talked to you about it, I'd have to kill you."

Nicolai laughed out loud and punched Castillo's shoulder.