He'd never met a woman like her. No one had ever affected him like that. Not Ashley, not Jenna. Thinking of Jenna brought up feelings of guilt, as if he'd betrayed her by what had just happened with Anya.

  But nothing had happened, had it?

  Chapter 42

  Thorne went back to his hotel and called Jenna.

  "Michael. Where are you calling from?"

  "My hotel in Helsinki. Listen, I need your advice about something."

  "That's a first. What's the problem?"

  "Actually there are two problems. Davidson called me and wants me to brief him about OPERA before I talk to Lewis. Something doesn't feel right about that. What's going on?"

  "Have you talked to Davidson or Lewis?"

  "Not yet."

  "Did Davidson give you a reason why he wanted you to call him first?"

  "He said Kramer wanted to be kept informed."

  "Lewis would do that," Jenna said.

  "That's why I called. It feels like a power play. I thought you might know something I don't."

  "Davidson doesn't like Lewis. He may be trying to take over control of OPERA. She's a gold asset."

  "Davidson is a bureaucrat," Michael said. "He doesn't know a damn thing about running assets. I might not like Lewis, but he knows his job. He knows the street. Then there's that second problem I mentioned."

  "Which is?"

  "OPERA insists on having me as her handler. She says she won't work with anyone else."

  "Lewis won't like that. Or Davidson."

  "It wasn't my idea."

  "She's in Moscow, Mike. Whoever runs her has to be nearby. Normally it would be someone out of the embassy."

  "I know the people stationed there. There isn't anyone qualified to run a high-level asset like this."

  "Don't let Lewis hear you say that."

  "You know it's true."

  "When did that make any difference?" Jenna said.

  "If they assign someone else, we'll lose her. She's frightened, and I don't blame her. She doesn't trust us, but for some reason she trusts me. If you'd been there when I talked with her, you'd know I'm right."

  "If Davidson is making a move to take her over, he's not going to listen to you. He'll assign someone else."

  "Davidson doesn't have a clue about what's going on out here. He'll put someone on it who doesn't know what they're doing and get her killed. The Russians find out she's talking to us, she'll be arrested. Jenna, we can't let that happen."

  "You should tell Carlson about Davidson. Give him a heads up."

  "Davidson will know I warned him," Thorne said. "It's not a smart career move."

  "What career? You burned your promotion chances a long time ago."

  Thorne laughed.

  "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

  "You knew that before you called me. Think about it. You warn Lewis, he'll be so pissed off at Davidson that he'll make sure you handle OPERA just to spite him. He'll go to Kramer. She'll back him up."

  "Why would she do that?"

  "You haven't noticed her management style? Julius Caesar had nothing on her. Divide and conquer is written deep on whatever passes for her heart."

  "That's hard, Jenna."

  "You asked for my advice."

  "Yeah, I did. You could be right. I'll talk to Lewis. If Davidson is trying to take control, it makes sense he'd want to cut him out of the loop."

  "What did OPERA tell you?"

  "It's not good news. She says the Federation is planning something big. Maybe war with us. Something that involves their submarines. She said the units were secret. She hadn't heard of them before, and she knows everything about their military."

  "Why does she think they're planning war? How did she find that out?"

  "General Stepanov has bullied her into his bed. She's pissed off about it. She saw a file in his apartment."

  "In a way that's good, about Stepanov."

  "What's good about it?"

  "It gives her real motivation. It helps me understand her. It authenticates her."

  "I hadn't thought about it that way."

  "Of course not," Jenna said. "You're not a woman."

  Chapter 43

  Right after he'd spoken with Jenna, Thorne called Carlson and told him about Anya's demand.

  "What the hell do you mean she won't talk to anyone but you?"

  "Don't shoot the messenger, Lewis. I'm telling you what she said. It was her idea. She came up with it out of the blue. I told her that could be a problem, but she wouldn't hear it."

  "Do you think she means it?"

  "I do."

  "It's not possible."

  "Before you say anything more, there's something you need to know. Davidson called me."

  "What did he want?"

  "He wanted me to brief him about OPERA before I reported to you."

  "He what?"

  "You heard me. He wanted me to report to him first. I think he wants to take over control of the asset."

  "Did you?"

  "Did I what?"

  "Call him first."

  "No, I didn't."

  "Why not?"

  "You have street experience. I respect that. You know how to run agents. You know what it feels like to look over your shoulder all the time. Davidson doesn't know shit about any of that. He takes her over, she's toast. She's too important to lose because he wants to play spy."

  "Brief me. Tell me how the meeting went."

  Thorne told him. When he was done, there was a long pause.

  "All right," Carlson said. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go talk with Kramer after I finish talking with you. I'll recommend that we honor OPERA's request and assign you as her handler. That means you have to be nearby, but posting you to Moscow isn't going to fly."

  "I could cover her from here, in Helsinki. It will keep me off their radar. It's a short flight to Moscow if she wants to meet."

  "Let me think about it. You'll need a reason to stay in Finland. Something that will give you an excuse to go into Russia."

  "Why not use my Canadian identity? I'm supposed to be in the import business. We could build on that, set up an office as a front."

  "Like I said, I'll think about it. Listen, Michael, I want you to know I appreciate the heads up."

  "Reminds me of that scene in Casablanca," Thorne said.

  "What scene?"

  "At the end, when Bogart is talking to the French cop. He says, 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'"

  "I wouldn't go that far," Carlson said.

  Chapter 44

  Vlas Sokolov was in hell.

  He sat naked on a wooden chair, his hands handcuffed behind him. Every time it fell over while they beat him, they picked it up and began again. He was in bad shape. Both his lips were split and bleeding. Two of his teeth had been knocked from his mouth. He could barely see out of one eye, the other was fully closed and swollen. It felt like something was wrong in his face. It hurt when he breathed. He thought they might have broken a rib.

  He no longer knew how long he'd been in the cell with Petrov and his muscular Sergeant, Sergei. Every part of his body screamed at him, begging him to tell them he'd helped Anya contact the Americans. He had sworn to himself he wouldn't betray her, but he wasn't sure he could continue to resist. Sokolov sat in his pain and waited for them to start again, hoping he could endure.

  Petrov stood looking at the battered man in the chair and swore. He was getting tired of this. Blood had splattered on his shirt, and he was angry.

  "Sergei, bring the generator."

  "Yes, sir."

  Sergei left the room. Petrov went over to Sokolov and lifted his chin.

  "This is your last opportunity to tell me what I want to know," he said.

  "Please." Sokolov coughed blood. "I have told you. I don't know what you want."

  "I want to know what you and Volkova talked about in the café."

  "Chess. I have told you. We talked about chess...old times at the University. Nothing else, I swear. Please, do not hit me again."

  Sergei came back in the room, towing a small, hand powered generator and a length of chain.

  "Haul him up," Petrov said.

  "What...what are you doing?" Sokolov mumbled.

  "You'll find out soon enough."

  Petrov watched as Sergei looped the chain through a pulley fixed to the ceiling of the cell. He lifted Sokolov from the chair, uncuffed his hands, pulled his arms over his head and cuffed them together. He fastened one end of the chain between them. Then he hauled on the other end of the chain and hoisted Sokolov into the air.

  Sokolov screamed. His bare feet dangled a foot above the ground. Sergei tied the chain off to a fitting on the wall.

  Sokolov hung, his shoulders in agony. Blood dripped from his toes.

  "This is a very effective technique," Petrov said. "The Germans made good use of it in the Great Patriotic War. You see this handle, attached to this wheel? No? Nothing to say? Allow me to explain how it works. Sergei turns the handle and spins the wheel, generating electricity."

  Petrov held up wires with large alligator clips on the end of them.

  "You've seen these before. The kind you use to jump a car. The faster the handle turns, the more electricity is generated. Sergei, show the professor how it works."

  Sergei began turning the handle. The wheel made a metallic, whirring sound as it spun. Petrov held up the two leads in front of Sokolov's face.

  "Watch."

  He brought the leads close together. A brilliant blue spark arced between them.

  "Stop for the moment, Sergeant."

  The whirring died away.

  "Please...don't do this."

  "Only a taste," Petrov said.

  He fastened the clips to Sokolov's big toes.

  "Sergeant, not too fast."

  "Yes, sir."

  He began turning the handle. Sokolov screamed and jerked as electricity ran through his body.

  "Chess!" he screamed. "We talked about chess!"

  "Faster, Sergeant."

  Sokolov screamed louder. His body shuddered and twisted.

  Petrov held up his hand. Sergei stopped turning the handle.

  "He is very stubborn, don't you think, Sergeant?"

  "Very stubborn, sir."

  "Let's try something a little more tender than his toes. Be careful not to crush them."

  Sergei removed the clips from Sokolov's toes and attached them to his testicles. Sokolov groaned.

  "Last chance, Sokolov. You won't like it."

  Sokolov began sobbing. Tears ran down his face.

  "You may begin, Sergeant."

  Sergei began turning the handle. As the charge built up, Sokolov convulsed and made a strange, gurgling sound. Suddenly his head dropped forward and he went limp. A thin stream of brown fluid ran down his leg.

  "Shit," Petrov said. "Get him down. Quickly."

  Sergei undid the chain and lowered Sokolov to the floor. He bent over him.

  "He's dead, sir. I think he had a heart attack."

  "Stubborn old man."

  "Perhaps he was telling the truth. They always talk."

  "Perhaps," Petrov said. "Perhaps not. Clean up this mess and dispose of the body."

  "Yes, sir."

  Colonel Ivanov wasn't going to be happy when he told him Sokolov was dead. There was no use putting it off. He went upstairs to Ivanov's office.

  "Well?" Ivanov said.

  "It's unfortunate, but the suspect is dead. It appears that he had a heart attack while being interrogated."

  "At least tell me you got something from him," Ivanov said.

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "Either he was telling the truth, or stubborn. It happens, sometimes."

  "Then there is no evidence against Volkova."

  "No, sir. But I'm convinced she is up to something. We need to know what it is. Why else pretend to separate and then meet at the café? They were plotting something, I'm sure of it."

  "I agree, it is highly suspicious. But without something more, I'm not going to question her," Ivanov said.

  "The surveillance in Stepanov's apartment may provide the evidence we need."

  "I would love to find something on that arrogant bastard Stepanov. He thinks he's above our attention."

  "May I make a suggestion, sir? Let me put people on her. If she's involved in a conspiracy, Sokolov may not have been the only person she was meeting."

  Ivanov considered the request.

  "All right, but keep it simple. One man only."

  "Yes, sir. Understood."

  "We need to exercise caution. She's Stepanov's pet. If he gets wind of our interest, he'll piss all over us."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Give it a week after Stepanov gets back from Helsinki, then pull the recordings from his apartment. Then we'll see."

  Chapter 45

  "Since when do we let assets tell us who they'll work with?" Davidson said, angry.

  He was in Kramer's office. So were Jenna and Carlson.

  "It's not without precedent," Kramer said, her voice mild.

  "She's too important to let Thorne handle her. You know what he's like. He has no respect for the chain of command."

  "What do you think, Lewis?" Kramer said.

  She already knew what Carlson thought. He'd briefed her an hour earlier on Thorne's conversation with Colonel Volkova in Helsinki and told her Davidson had tried to go over his head with Thorne. He'd pointed out that Thorne had established rapport with Volkova. More important, he had established trust. You didn't throw that away because of an ego-driven pissing match. Carlson hadn't used those exact words with Kramer, but he'd made sure she got the idea.

  It was no secret Carlson wanted the deputy director's job. Kramer wanted Carlson to say what he thought in front of Davidson because she enjoyed playing her subordinates off against one another.

  "It's obvious OPERA trusts Thorne and doesn't trust us," Carlson said.

  "I don't think it's obvious," Davidson said. "Why would she trust him? Why decide she won't talk to anyone else? Maybe Thorne is making it up, trying to make himself seem important."

  "Are you saying Thorne is lying?" Jenna said.

  "If the shoe fits..."

  "Jesus, Scott. You know better than that."

  "I didn't know we were on a first name basis, Olmstead."

  "Keep it civil, Scott," Kramer said. "Jenna, why do you think OPERA would make that demand?"

  "First of all, if Mike says she'll rabbit if we give her a different handler, you can take it as gospel. He's good at what he does. If he couldn't convince her to change her mind, no one else is going to do it."

  "I can understand why she wouldn't trust us," Kramer said. "She's been told all her life that the CIA is her enemy. But why trust Thorne?"

  Jenna couldn't tell them she'd talked to Thorne before he called Carlson.

  "He must have connected with her. He's a real person, not some faceless enemy on the other side of the world. Women make these kind of decisions differently than men. She must have sensed something about him that made her decide to trust him."

  "So OPERA trusts Thorne because of women's intuition?" Davidson said. "Are you kidding? This is the CIA, not a feel-good therapy group."

  "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Jenna said.

  "Lewis, how do you see it working if Thorne is her handler?" Kramer said.

  "We can use his cover as a Canadian businessman and set him up in Helsinki. Rent an office, print up the materials he needs, build up a past history in Canada in case someone goes looking. We've done it all before, for less potential."

  "Why not post him to Moscow?" Davidson said. "If you're convinced he's the one who should run her, he should be where he's got quick access."

  "If Thorne is posted to Moscow, they'll know who he is," Jenna said. "The embassy is watched around the clock. He'd be followed every time he left the building. It would make it difficult or impossible to meet with OPERA. You should know that."

  "Don't tell me what I should know, Olmstead."

  "Why not, when it's clear you don't know what you're talking about?"

  "Thorne is a loose cannon. We let him handle her, he'll screw it up. I can handle her from here."

  Carlson kept his face expressionless, but inside he was smiling.

  "What if she wants a face-to-face meeting?" Jenna said. "Are you planning to go to Moscow?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Davidson said.

  "I've heard enough," Kramer said. "Scott, Thorne already has the kind of rapport with OPERA we need to get the best out of her. I'm not going to rock the boat. Jenna, you set up Thorne's legend in Canada. We're going into the sauna import business. Who knows? We might even make some money out of it."

  As they left Kramer's office, Davidson turned to Lewis.

  "I'm not going to forget this."

  "We both know Thorne is the right choice for this. She trusts him. She wouldn't give you the time of day."

  "You want to hang your career on Thorne, you go right ahead. I'm going to enjoy watching when you crash and burn. You'll regret what you said in there, both of you."

  They had reached Davidson's office. He went in. The door closed softly behind him. Doors on the seventh floor were designed to close that way.

  "You get the feeling he would have slammed it, if he could?" Jenna said.

  Carlson laughed.

  Chapter 46

  Anya was glad to be back in Moscow, back at her job. When she was in her office she could pretend she was in control of her life. It had been hard enough to keep up the pretense when she'd been forced into Stepanov's bed. Now that she'd taken the enormous step of betrayal, it was nearly impossible.

  Tarasov and his reactionary generals were chasing a dangerous illusion, a return to the days when the world trembled before Russian power. She was doing the right thing, she was sure of it. Then why did she feel so guilty?

  It didn't take a psychologist to figure it out. What she was doing was treason. The fact that it was treason in a good cause didn't change the reality. In her wildest thoughts, Anya had never dreamed she would betray her country. Never dreamed she would meet an American spy.