"You never know, though. His wife might die."

  Anya sighed in frustration.

  "I'm going to make your dinner, then I have to change."

  While Yulia was eating, Anya dressed. She chose the same blue dress she'd worn to Ivan Korosov's party. It was the only decent outfit she owned for elegant occasions, and dinner at Turandot qualified as one of those. Underneath the dress, she wore black lace underwear. She dabbed a drop of perfume behind her earlobes. A thin, gold necklace and gold earrings completed her outfit.

  At eight sharp, Stepanov's driver knocked on the door.

  "Good evening, Gennady."

  "Good evening, Colonel."

  Stepanov was reading a document when she got in the car. He placed it in his briefcase, then set the case down on the floor.

  "Anya, you are looking beautiful tonight."

  "Thank you, Yuri."

  "You will enjoy the food at this restaurant," he said. "Have you eaten there before?"

  "No, I have never been able to afford it."

  "Then you are in for a treat."

  The limousine pulled away from the curb.

  "This thing with the Americans," Anya said. "Why are they doing this? Don't they know we must respond?"

  "The Americans suffer from illusions of superiority," Stepanov said. "They don't like the fact that we have won in Syria. They think they can make us go back to the way things were before Operation EAGLE was launched."

  "That's foolish," Anya said.

  "Yes."

  "What are we going to do about it?"

  Stepanov gave her an appraising look.

  "You don't need to know that, Colonel. All you need to know is that something will be done."

  There was rebuke in his tone.

  "I was just curious," she said.

  "There's no harm in telling you we are going to the UN about this blockade. It's possible that international pressure will cause the American president to reconsider his actions."

  "I hope so."

  Stepanov reached into the compartment next to his seat and took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. He poured and handed Anya a glass.

  "I know you must feel somewhat constrained by the nature of our relationship."

  That's one way of putting it.

  "I want you to know I truly value your companionship. I enjoy being with you and admire you. I hope that in time you will come to feel the same way about me."

  He gestured with his glass.

  "To us."

  She wanted to spit at him.

  Be patient.

  She touched her glass to his and they drank. She wished she was having a drink with Michael.

  The restaurant was on Tverskoy Boulevard, not far from the Kremlin. Gennady guided the limousine into a parking area filled with high-end vehicles. Parked with the Mercedes limos and BMWs were several armored Hummers and a sleek red Ferrari. The Hummers were popular among the oligarchs. Being a billionaire in Russia had many advantages. Being a target for every bold and enterprising thief was not one of them. Large men with guns stood smoking in groups near the cars.

  Stepanov and Anya were escorted into a re-creation of a 16th century Florentine courtyard. Sculpted nude statues stood in niches on the left of the entrance. On each end of the courtyard, the windows of a high-end jewelry store gleamed with displays of gold and diamonds. It was the kind of store where a pair of simple gold earrings cost thousands of dollars.

  The maître d' greeted Stepanov by name as they stepped into the restaurant. The main dining hall made the courtyard look shabby

  Anya felt like she'd been transported to a palace from the time of the Czars. An enormous chandelier of crystal and amethyst hung from a high, domed ceiling painted with clouds and lavished with raised designs of gold. Musicians wearing powdered wigs and dressed in 18th century costumes played chamber music on a rotating stage in one corner of the room. Waiters dressed in brocaded waistcoats with gold buttons glided soundlessly about the floor. There were golden statues and Renaissance style paintings everywhere she looked, always something to marvel at and catch the eye. It was impossible to take in all the details.

  "Impressive, no?" Stepanov said.

  "It's overwhelming."

  "The food is good. The wine list is superb."

  "This way to your table, General," their escort said.

  He guided them through the crowded restaurant to a table in the back, underneath a gilded balcony that circled the room. People watched and whispered as they crossed the room. Their escort held a brocaded chair out for Anya and seated her.

  "Bring the wine list," Stepanov said.

  "At once, General."

  He scurried away.

  "The food is somewhat eclectic," Stepanov said. "A kind of fusion between Asian, French, and traditional. I'm not sure what you would call it. Have whatever you like."

  "I always have trouble in a good restaurant choosing between dishes."

  "Perhaps you would allow me to choose for you."

  "Please do, Yuri."

  Stepanov nodded, as if he'd expected nothing else.

  As he had said, the food was good. The wine was excellent. By the time they left the restaurant, Anya was pleasantly high. Stepanov had drunk at least one full bottle and was in an expansive mood.

  Gennady drove them back to Ostozhenka Street. Anya set her mind for what was to come. Once they were inside the apartment, Stepanov went to the liquor cabinet.

  "A nightcap," he said.

  In one of the light fixtures overhead, a camera recorded everything Stepanov and Anya said and did. It was one of several devices strategically placed around the apartment. When they moved to the bedroom, the feed automatically recorded their movements. Stepanov liked to leave the lights on when they were having sex, but it wouldn't have mattered. The cameras had night vision capability.

  An hour later, Stepanov's snores filled the room. Anya slipped out of bed, her mind already on tomorrow's meeting with Michael.

  She walked naked to the shower. The cameras watched every move.

  Anya emerged from the shower and dressed. She looked over at Stepanov. He was deep in sleep, unconscious to the world. She walked down the hall to his study and entered the room. Unlike the last time, his briefcase was missing. Stepanov had left it locked in a compartment inside his car when they'd gone into the restaurant. There was nothing on the desk. She opened a drawer. There was nothing important inside. A second drawer failed to produce anything of interest.

  She left the apartment and descended to the street, hoping for a passing taxi.

  Chapter 54

  Even at nine in the morning, there were plenty of people in Izmailovsky Park. At one time it had been a private estate and hunting preserve belonging to the Czars. Now it was one of the largest parks in Moscow, with trails that meandered through hundreds of acres of forest.

  Part of the park was given over to amusement rides. Anya bought an ice cream cone from a stand near the big Ferris wheel. She sat on a bench nearby eating her ice cream, watching a group of children playing nearby, thinking about how life had brought her to this point.

  Her career had always been her priority, and now it was too late for children. None of her relationships had been the kind that turned into marriage and family. She didn't regret the choices she'd made, but sometimes she wished there was someone she could turn to in the middle of the night when she needed comfort. Someone she could share her life with.

  Someone like Michael.

  But he was an American spy. If it wasn't so impossible, it would almost be funny. The problem was that she wasn't laughing.

  Anya finished the ice cream, took out a book, and began reading. If anyone was watching, it looked like a normal thing to do. Her mind filled with random thoughts. Would Michael come? Was she being followed? Would she be arrested? After a long half hour turning pages, she couldn't remember anything she'd read.

  She felt his presence before she saw him. Michael walked by. She waited until he was some distance away, then got up and followed him.

  He led her past a large pond visible through the trees, then turned off the paved path onto a trail that led into the forest. The trees were exploding with green after the harsh winter. Sounds faded as they went farther into the forest. Streamers of light filtered down through the branches. They had only the sounds of the birds for company. Her steps felt soft on the dirt path.

  Usually when she walked in the forest, it calmed her. Not today. Today, her heart was pounding. She couldn't help looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was behind.

  Michael left the path and disappeared into the trees. She looked for him.

  "Over here," Thorne said, his voice quiet.

  "I might have been followed," she said as she came up to him.

  "Don't worry, you weren't. We made sure of that. Are you all right?"

  "Now that you're here, I'm fine."

  She stepped close to him. He could smell her scent, a subtle musk that set his heart beating. The world disappeared. All he could see was her face.

  "You have beautiful eyes," he said.

  "So do you."

  "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

  "I thought today would never get here."

  He touched her face. She leaned close. The first kiss was gentle, soft.

  "Michael," she said.

  "This is crazy."

  "I know."

  "I don't care."

  "I don't, either."

  The second kiss was deeper, longer. They broke away and Anya stepped back, flushed.

  "I wish we were somewhere else. Somewhere private," she said.

  "So do I, but we're not. We can't stay here long."

  "I know."

  He forced himself to concentrate.

  "Why did you want to meet?"

  She took a breath and made herself think of what she wanted to tell him.

  "Two days ago, the high command met with Tarasov to discuss the blockade. I know this because General Stepanov had to leave word where he would be. I know these people. They will never accept or agree to American demands. In my work I see everything. All of our serviceable submarines are now at sea. That is very unusual. I think war is coming."

  "Can you find out what they are doing?"

  "I will try, but I cannot guarantee it. I asked Stepanov, but he doesn't like it when I ask him for details. "

  "Be careful, Anya. You mustn't make him suspicious."

  "Don't worry. I told him I was just curious."

  Anya shifted gears.

  "What have you done about Petrov?"

  "We're working on it."

  "I want to know where Professor Sokolov is being held. Can you help him?"

  "Anya..."

  She looked at him and read what he was going to say.

  "He's dead, isn't he? Those bastards."

  "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, they probably didn't mean to kill him. He had a heart attack while he was being interrogated."

  "Who was it?"

  "GRU. A colonel named Ivanov."

  "I know who he is. Petrov works for him. I am sure he suspects me of something."

  "We're working on it," Thorne said again.

  "What good am I doing, Michael? If I hadn't asked Vlas to help me, he'd still be alive. All I've accomplished is to get him killed."

  "It's not your fault, Anya."

  She snapped at him.

  "No? What do you know about it? Do you have any idea what it's like to know someone is always watching, waiting for you to make a mistake?"

  "Actually, I do," Thorne said. "It's the kind of world we live in now. There are always people who want to control everything, who care about nothing except power. We have them in America like you do here, only it's usually not as obvious."

  "It is not the same."

  "Anya, what you're doing is important. You said you think war is coming. If you're right, you're the best chance to prevent it from happening. If we know what they're doing, we can try to stop them before it starts."

  She took a deep breath, calming herself.

  "Perhaps."

  "No perhaps about it. You're next to Stepanov. He's a key player."

  "He is a pig."

  "Yes, but a very important pig. Maybe we can turn him into bacon."

  She smiled. "You make a joke."

  "I'm only half joking."

  "I need to go back," Anya said. "I don't like to leave my mother alone for too long."

  "My bosses want me to give you a transmitter."

  "No. I won't take it."

  "I told them you would say that. You can use the number I gave you before to reach us."

  "I do not want to call and talk to someone I don't know."

  "Okay. I'll give you my number. It's secure. If I don't answer, call again in a little while. If it's an emergency and I don't answer, call the number you used before."

  He gave her his number and had her repeat it.

  "I'm nearby, over the border in Finland," he said. "If you need me, I can be here within hours, but it's better to keep our meetings at a minimum."

  "I understand. I won't ask for a meeting again unless it's really important."

  "There's an old Roman tomb with an inscription carved on it," Thorne said. "I think of it when things get difficult."

  She looked at him, curious.

  "What does it say, this inscription?"

  "It says, 'Don't let the bastards wear you down.'"

  She laughed. It made him smile, to see her happy.

  "Maybe this Roman was really a Russian."

  "Maybe."

  "I should go now," she said.

  "I don't want you to go."

  "I don't want to." She looked at him. "How can this be? These feelings?"

  He stepped close and kissed her.

  "I don't know, but they're real. I know that."

  "I should go," she said again.

  "Tell me the number," he said.

  She repeated it to him.

  "Please, Anya. Be careful."

  "I will."

  They kissed. It vibrated through his body, a kiss he didn't want to end. After what seemed like a long time, she pulled back.

  "Goodbye, Michael."

  He watched her walk away through the trees, thinking about the kiss and the sound of her laugh. The kiss had shaken him. It told him it was too late to back away.

  As far back as he could remember, he'd been told Russia was an enemy. You didn't fall in love with the enemy. It went against everything he'd ever been taught. How could this be happening?

  He thought about that first, electric touch in the Cathedral in Helsinki, the sensation that he'd known her forever. He decided it must have started then. It wasn't quite love at first sight, but it was damn close.

  He began walking back to the main path through the park, thinking about her. Anya was beautiful, but that wasn't why he felt this way. Physical attraction was a lousy basis for relationship. It might get your attention, but it would never be enough on its own. Ashley had taught him that.

  About the only thing he and Anya had in common was love of country. He wasn't ashamed to say he loved America, in spite of its flaws. It was what drove him, gave him meaning. It was why he'd made a choice to stand against her enemies. It kept him working at Langley, in spite of people like Carlson. He supposed that made him a patriot. Some would say that was corny, but he didn't give a shit what they thought.

  Governments and politicians came and went, but the country survived them. It was the land that mattered, the people.

  Anya felt the same way about Russia. Her people would call her a traitor, but if her beloved Motherland could speak, he figured it would thank her.

  In a way they were mirror images of each other, ideal partners. It didn't explain why he wanted to be with her, but it gave him the excuse he needed to forget she was supposed to be the enemy.

  Once he was out of the park, Thorne caught a taxi to the airport.

  Chapter 55

  Back in Finland, Thorne called Carlson.

  "Damn it, Thorne, you were supposed to give her that transmitter."

  "I told you she wouldn't take it. You know what surveillance is like now. Sooner or later, they'd find her if she used it."

  "It's microburst technology."

  "That doesn't matter. It's not worth the risk. I gave her my number. If something comes up, she'll contact me."

  "You gave her your direct number? Are you nuts?"

  "She's using burners, Lewis. One time use, throw it away. She's not going to lead them to me."

  "You just gave me a mini lecture on surveillance. Then you tell me they can't track her calls to you. Do you even listen to yourself?"

  "Would you like to know what she said?"

  "Don't waste my time, Thorne."

  "She thinks they're getting ready to go to war. They're planning something big. Whatever it is, it has something to do with their submarines. She says all of them are already at sea."

  "They aren't stupid enough to attack the blockade with their subs," Carlson said. "It would mean war. They don't want a war with us."

  "You could be right, I don't know," Thorne said. "I'm simply repeating what she told me. She seemed to think it was important."

  "She's not experienced, Thorne. She doesn't know what's important."

  "You're not giving her much credit. There's a reason she's running that unit, and it's not because she's stupid."

  "You sure you're not letting your dick get in the way of your judgment?"

  "Get your mind out of the gutter, Lewis. Yeah, I'm sure. Everything about her says she's the real deal. You know what they'll do to her if they catch her."

  "You have any trouble getting into the country?"

  "No. They run a background check on everyone who enters the Federation, so by now they've discovered that I'm running an export business in Helsinki. It's not unusual for a businessman in Finland to take a trip to Moscow. Moscow is where the action is, if you're ambitious. Everybody wants in."

  "Why did she ask for a meeting? Why won't she call in?"

  "She doesn't trust us, Lewis. She's hanging out there in the wind, all by herself. For some reason she's decided she can talk to me. If it makes her comfortable, if that's the way she wants to do it, that's how we have to play it."