"Davidson is still lobbying Kramer to take her away from you."

  "You think she's going to?"

  "She hasn't done it yet."

  "OPERA won't go for it, no matter what Kramer decides."

  "What about her mental state? How do you read her?"

  "She's determined. She's also pissed. The GRU murdered her contact. He was a personal friend."

  "Damn it, Thorne. You weren't supposed to tell her that."

  "She asked. I'm not going to lie to her."

  "How did she take it?"

  "She's angry, and she wants us to do something. She's probably scared shitless, but she's handling it well. She talked again about the GRU major that's making trouble for her. If we could do something about him, it would go a long way toward building trust."

  "We're working on it."

  "That's what I told her. It's not good enough."

  "Major Petrov is going to have some big problems, soon. These things take time. You know that."

  "You can't hurry it up?"

  "Don't push it, Thorne. Like I said, these things take time."

  "I've been thinking. We need to create an escape plan for her, in case something goes wrong."

  "There's not a lot we can do, you know that. But go ahead and talk to Jenna about it. I don't want to see her get burned anymore than you do."

  "Okay. Something else. From what I saw, Russians are really upset about the blockade. We're not making any friends over there. What's Campbell trying to do?"

  "He's trying to put the genie back in the bottle and get the Russians to give up their gains in Syria."

  "He's dreaming. They're not going to do that. He's backing Tarasov into a corner. It's not a good idea."

  "Would you like me to set up a meeting with the president and the Joint Chiefs? I'm sure they'd love to hear your opinion."

  "You know I'm right, Lewis."

  "It doesn't matter if you're right."

  "I know. That's what scares me."

  Chapter 56

  Deep below the Moscow streets, faces at the table in the National Defense Control Center were grim. Tarasov waited until everyone had settled in their seats. He'd already decided what he was going to do, but he needed to let these men think it was their decision. He'd been waiting a long time for this moment. Ever since the day he'd learned of his father's death.

  "Admiral Ivanov."

  "Sir."

  "What is the status of the American blockade?"

  "Nothing has changed, Mister President. They seem determined to stay there as long as they want, or at least until we meet their terms. I can't break it without starting a war."

  "How about the rest of you?" Tarasov said. "Do you agree with Admiral Ivanov? Are war or submission to the American demands our only options?"

  General Fedorov raised his hand.

  "May I be blunt, Mister President?"

  "Speak your mind, General."

  "The General Staff is of one mind on this issue. The American blockade is intolerable. It is an act of war."

  There were murmurs of assent around the table. Fedorov continued.

  "We can't break the blockade by fighting a localized action with the American Navy. Even if we could win such a battle, it would rapidly escalate to a full-scale exchange."

  "What are you getting at, General?"

  "We have two possible courses of action. The first is to accede to the American demands and pull back across the Euphrates. I speak for everyone in this room when I say we cannot agree to that. The American president does not believe we will resort to war. He thinks we have no choice but to retreat. Once we do that, American threats and demands for concessions will not stop."

  Fedorov paused.

  "We must activate MEDUZA," he said.

  The word fell like a stone on the tabletop. Tarasov smiled to himself. This was going to be easier than he thought.

  MEDUZA was the name of a mythical sea monster in Russian folklore, half woman, half snake. She was always pictured with poisonous serpents growing from her feet. MEDUZA was also the code name for a first strike attack against the United States. Like all first strike options, it was designed to neutralize critical military targets and defeat the enemy's ability to respond.

  The fatal flaw with first strike scenarios lay in the reality of modern defense systems. Satellites watched everything. A missile launch could not be hidden. There would be enough time for the enemy to launch his own missiles in retaliation. Those kinds of scenarios always ended in mutual destruction, the reason nuclear war had been avoided in the past. No one had pulled the trigger because no one believed they could win.

  MEDUZA changed that.

  MEDUZA utilized undersea missiles launched like torpedoes from modified submarines. The subs were protected by stealth technology that made them virtually undetectable.

  The missiles were equipped with thermonuclear warheads, each warhead the equivalent of a fifty-megaton hydrogen bomb. A radical propulsion system drove them at high speed through the water. Speed and proximity to the target made the weapons difficult to detect. For all practical purposes, they were unstoppable.

  The warheads were dirty, intentionally designed to spread lethal radioactivity over wide areas. Critical stress points in the tectonic plates off the coasts of America were programmed into the computers guiding the missiles to their targets. Each detonation would trigger earthquakes and tsunamis, sending radioactive waves hundreds of feet high roaring inland across the American countryside.

  All military installations on both coasts would be destroyed. At the same time, ballistic missile submarines stationed off the American coasts would launch a coordinated attack, taking out targets farther inland. ICBMs from Russia's mainland would finish the job.

  The only way to win a nuclear war was to take the enemy by complete surprise. MEDUZA made that possible. By the time the Americans knew they were under attack, it would be too late.

  Fedorov continued.

  "General Stepanov and I have been working with Admiral Mikhailov to refine the plan in light of the current situation."

  "Go on," Tarasov said.

  "The key elements are already at sea. We only need to order our submarines into final position for the attack. All that is required is your permission."

  "You sent the submarines out without notifying me?"

  "We did not think it was necessary, Mister President," Fedorov said, smoothly. "It was simply to test our operational capability and iron out any potential problems."

  Tarasov looked at him.

  They've been planning this all along!

  The realization that these men had tried to manipulate him made him angry. His face gave nothing away. Inwardly, Tarasov seethed. They were doing what he wanted, but they'd done it without consulting him. They thought they'd boxed him in. They thought they still controlled him, but the reality was different. Things had changed since the days when he'd needed them to stay in power, but they didn't know it yet. He was going to have to teach these arrogant bastards a lesson, but they were still useful. For now, he was forced to wait.

  "You are proposing a first strike with nuclear weapons against America?"

  "Yes, Mister President."

  "What is your estimate of our casualties in this scenario?"

  "Most of their land-based missile silos will be rendered useless. Effective enemy response will be limited almost exclusively to their submarines. We know where most of those are, and they will be destroyed. We can stop almost everything they throw at us."

  "Almost everything?"

  "We assume some missiles will get through our defenses. There's no way to avoid casualties. However, we will have eliminated their main ability to retaliate."

  "How many casualties, General?"

  "We estimate fifteen to twenty million. Possibly less."

  "Only twenty million? That seems low."

  Fedorov didn't pick up on the sarcasm in Tarasov's voice.

  "Our defense systems are excellent, Mister President. The Americans are unaware of how good they are. Our efforts to make them believe our military is hampered by old technology and crumbling infrastructure have succeeded. Their belief has helped us conceal our true capabilities from them."

  "What about their fleet? It's right off our coast, equipped with nuclear missiles."

  "We have taken that into consideration. Our missiles, planes, and submarines will destroy their fleet at the same time the undersea missiles make landfall," Fedorov said. "Everything will be coordinated as one, massive strike. We are confident most of their missiles will be intercepted."

  Tarasov looked at the hard-faced men at the table. They were all watching him, waiting for his decision.

  "How many of you think we should proceed with MEDUZA? Give me a show of hands."

  One by one, everyone raised a hand.

  "Very well. General Fedorov, make the necessary preparations. If the Americans do not come to their senses, we will do it for them."

  "Yes, Mister President."

  "Are there any other comments?"

  "Mister President."

  "Yes, General Andropov?"

  "Morale has been affected by the loss of our brave airmen in Syria. I want to do something about it."

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "Sometimes their pilots penetrate Syrian airspace. So far, we have ignored them. Our bomber was shot down with an American missile. Let's return the favor. I propose that the next time they send a plane to piss on us, we shoot it down."

  Tarasov looked at the men sitting around the table. What he saw was desire for revenge.

  "We have agreed to initiate MEDUZA. Isn't that enough? There is a risk things will escalate before we are ready, if we shoot down one of their planes."

  "They won't start a war over one plane," Andropov said. "We can call another emergency meeting at the UN to confuse them. We could blame the Syrians, say they made a mistake. I do not believe things will get out of hand."

  "General Andropov's idea has merit," Fedorov said. "It will boost morale. Our troops will be in the proper mood when MEDUZA starts."

  "I agree," Stepanov said.

  There were murmurs of assent around the table.

  "Give the orders," Tarasov said. "Is there anything else? No? Then this meeting is adjourned."

  Chapter 57

  Colonel Ivanov had listened to Petrov's report on the surveillance of Colonel Volkova. She had gone again to the Black Queen, where she had asked about the dissident, Sokolov. On Sunday, she'd gone to Izmailovsky Park, where her watcher had found himself following someone at a distance who looked like her. Volkova had been out of sight for almost thirty minutes. Now Ivanov and Petrov sat in a darkened viewing room, watching the surveillance recordings from General Stepanov's apartment. Petrov provided a running commentary.

  "They had dinner at Turbanot, then came back to his apartment. This is footage from the bedroom, about a half hour later."

  "Turbanot. I wish I could afford to eat there," Ivanov said.

  They watched as Stepanov undressed and lay back naked on the bed.

  "Hairy bastard, isn't he? Well equipped. The man's an ape."

  "Here she comes," Petrov said.

  Anya walked into the picture, dressed in a silk robe. They watched her drop it to the floor, then climb onto the bed.

  "She is a beautiful woman," Ivanov said. "Hmm. Not much on foreplay, is he?"

  "No, sir. He gets right to it."

  "Doesn't look like she's enjoying it much."

  "She's no better than a whore."

  "Don't be so judgmental, Major. I doubt she has much choice in the matter. Move the recording forward. I want to see what she does after they've finished."

  I'll watch it again later, Petrov said to himself.

  "Yes, sir."

  Petrov fast forwarded the recording until after Anya had showered and dressed. They watched her leave the bedroom. A camera in the hall recorded her going into Stepanov's study. The camera in that room showed her searching the drawers in his desk.

  "That's enough," Ivanov said. "I want to know what she was looking for. Bring her in."

  "She'll be in the Ministry, at work. Shall I have her brought in now?"

  "Yes."

  Petrov stood. "At once, sir."

  Got you, you arrogant bitch, he thought.

  Chapter 58

  Anya was working at her desk when the phone rang.

  "Colonel Volkova."

  "Colonel, this is Senior Sergeant Popov."

  "Yes, Senior Sergeant, what is it?"

  "I just let two men from GRU through. They're here for you."

  "I see."

  "I wanted to give you a heads up."

  "I appreciate it, Yevgeny. Thank you."

  She looked out her window and saw the men coming across the floor. She fought down her fear, taking deep breaths to slow the rush of adrenaline.

  They came into her office without knocking.

  "Volkova. You will come with us."

  "You will address me as my rank demands. Who are you?"

  One of the men held out his ID.

  "We will address you as we wish. Come with us."

  "You will regret your rudeness," Anya said.

  She stood. They left her office, the men flanking her, pressing in on her. Silence followed behind as they passed through the work room.

  As usual, Moscow traffic was heavy. The forty-minute drive from the ministry to GRU headquarters took more than an hour. Anya was taken to a room with a table, two chairs, and a large mirror on the wall. Her escort left and closed the door. She heard it lock.

  She looked around the room. A vague, unpleasant odor of sour sweat lingered in the air. The walls were painted a dirty institutional green that reminded her of old pea soup. A camera watched from the ceiling. The table was scarred and chipped. She sat down in one of the chairs, wondering who was watching from behind the mirror.

  She sat quietly, wondering why she'd been brought here. She didn't know if she was under arrest or if this was an attempt to intimidate her. She couldn't think of anything Petrov might have heard or seen that would cause problems, unless they'd seen her meet with Michael. But he'd told her that had been taken care of. If they had seen her, how would she explain it?

  She guessed she'd been in the room for about an hour, when the door opened and Colonel Ivanov came in, carrying a laptop computer. He sat down at the table, across from her.

  "Why am I here?" she said. "You are interrupting important work."

  "You are here because of suspicious activity. Do you know who I am?"

  "I know who you are, Colonel. Am I under arrest?"

  "Not at this time. It depends on how you answer my questions."

  "I protest this treatment."

  "You may protest all you like, but you will still answer my questions. I advise you to cooperate."

  "I am always ready to cooperate with the proper authorities," Anya said.

  "On the Sunday three weeks ago, you met with a known dissident in Presnensky Park, a Professor Sokolov. What is your relationship with this man?"

  Don't let him see that you know Vlas is dead.

  "Professor Sokolov was one of my teachers at the University. I had not seen him for many years. Our meeting was an accident. We played a game of chess and talked. I don't know anything about his political views."

  "What did you talk about?"

  "Chess, mostly. Our time at the University. Vlas is ranked as expert. I am only an amateur, but I enjoy the game."

  "He beat you?"

  "Easily."

  "What did you do after that, after you finished the game?"

  "I went for a walk. Then I went into a café for a coffee."

  "The Black Queen."

  "Yes."

  "Where you again met with Sokolov."

  "That was a surprise. I had no idea he would be there."

  "You expect me to believe it was a coincidence?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Would it surprise you to know that Sokolov is a dissident opposed to the president?"

  "Yes, it would. I am a loyal officer. I do not hold dissident views. I already told you I was unaware of Professor Sokolov's political beliefs."

  "You understand, it looks suspicious."

  "To you, perhaps. I suppose that is your job, to be suspicious."

  "What did you talk about in the café?"

  "Chess, mostly about defensive strategy. The Sicilian Defense. We played another game. I drank my coffee and left."

  "The welfare of the state requires constant vigilance, Colonel. You would agree?"

  "Of course."

  *****

  Across town, on the top floor of the Ministry of Defense, General Stepanov called Anya's work number on the fourth floor.

  "Major Kirov speaking."

  "Major, this is General Stepanov. I wish to speak to Colonel Volkova."

  "Sir, she's not here."

  "Where is she? Why is she not at work?"

  "Sir, she was escorted from her office by agents from GRU."

  "What? When did this happen?"

  "A little over two hours ago, General."

  "Thank you, Major."

  Stepanov disconnected. Then he dialed another number.

  *****

  In the interrogation room at GRU headquarters, Ivanov made a mistake. He opened his laptop computer, entered a few keystrokes, then turned the screen so Anya could see what was on it. He touched a key and the images began to move. It hit her like a fist to the gut. She was looking at a video of herself having sex with Stepanov, with him on top of her.

  "You bastard," she said. "How dare you?"

  "Vigilance, Colonel. No one is exempt. Let's move it forward."

  He touched another key. The recording sped forward until she saw herself dressed, coming down the hall that led past the study. The camera angle shifted to inside the room. She watched as she opened a drawer in Stepanov's desk.

  Ivanov stopped the recording.

  "What were you looking for, Colonel?"

  Think!

  "A file."

  "You admit you were looking for a file? Something classified, perhaps?"

  "Not that kind of file. A nail file."