"Yes, Mister President."

  Tarasov let go of Anya's hand and turned away to continue working the room. She resisted the impulse to wipe her hand on her dress. She saw the president's wife looking at her. It wasn't a friendly look.

  "You've impressed him," Stepanov said. "Congratulations. It isn't easy to do."

  "I wasn't trying to impress him," Anya said.

  Stepanov smiled. "I know you weren't, Colonel. That is why you succeeded."

  It wasn't every day the President of the Russian Federation complimented you. She should be grateful and pleased. So why did she have this feeling she was being used?

  Years of living with her father's mercurial brutality had forced Anya to develop a strong sense of intuition. Intuition had warned her when one of his violent explosions was brewing. More than once, it had saved her from being beaten. She'd learned to trust it. Now her intuition told her to be on guard.

  "Sir, what did he mean? When he said that now he'd seen me, to proceed with what you'd talked about?"

  Stepanov sipped his vodka.

  "Since the president has given his approval, I can tell you. You have been chosen to become the public image of women in our military."

  She was shocked.

  "Me? Why?"

  "Come now, Colonel. There's no need for false modesty. You are an attractive and competent officer. Your recent work has only strengthened our decision that you are the right person for this."

  The last thing Anya wanted was to become the face of women in the Federation military. It was already difficult enough. The public exposure would provoke jealousy and strip her of what little privacy she had at work.

  Something in her expression must have given away her displeasure. Stepanov gave her a hard look.

  "That's an order, Colonel. This is not open for discussion."

  "Yes, sir."

  For a brief moment Stepanov had shown her the stick. Now he brought forward the carrot.

  "You've been moved up on the list. You are promoted to full Colonel. Effective immediately."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." That will really piss everybody off. "What do my new duties entail?"

  "It won't be too difficult. Pictures of you inspecting installations. Interviews about your family's history of loyalty to the Motherland, your career. You will continue in your present assignment with CSS. You have someone able to assume your duties if needed?"

  "Yes, sir. Major Kirov is an efficient officer. He's fully capable of running the unit."

  "Good, good. Now, Colonel, let's get something to eat and enjoy the party. Shall we?"

  Stepanov held out his arm. They moved toward the food table. Across the room, President Tarasov was talking with the Minister of Defense. Was she imagining it, or were they looking at her? She'd been thrust into the highest circles of power, without warning. It felt like someone had turned a glaring spotlight upon her.

  It wasn't a good feeling.

  Chapter 15

  Two days after the raid on Ali's apartment, Thorne was back in Washington. He briefed Jenna and Carlson in Carlson's office. When he told them what Ali had said about the big crates, Carlson looked skeptical.

  "Missiles? The satellite would have picked that up."

  "Not necessarily," Jenna said. "They could have timed the transfer between passes, when the bird wasn't overhead."

  "They could be SS 400s," Thorne said. "Ali's description of the crates matches their size."

  "How reliable do you think his information is?" Carlson asked. "He could have been making it up. Looking for a bonus."

  "I don't think so. The men who kicked in the door were from the Political Security Directorate. They only get involved with matters of state security. Ali was nervous. He told me someone had been asking questions about him."

  "That doesn't prove he didn't make it up."

  "He's dead, Lewis. I'd say that lends authenticity to his story."

  "SS 400s are the best antiaircraft missiles the Federation has. Installing those would be a major escalation over what they've deployed so far."

  "It backs up the idea that the Russians are getting ready to move on the oilfields," Thorne said.

  "Why would they need them? The Kurds don't have any aircraft."

  "No, but we do."

  "You think the Russians brought them in to keep us from getting involved?"

  "I think it's a signal they mean business. Right now, we get to say what happens to the oil under Kurdish control. If they drive the Kurds out, all that changes. Once those missiles are in position, it sends a clear message to stay away. Can you see Campbell risking all out war with Russia? Because that's what could happen if we try to stop them."

  "You're a real bundle of joy," Carlson said.

  "I'm a realist. If the Russians want to take those fields there's not much we can do about it. Not without things getting out of hand."

  "He's right, Lewis," Jenna said. "Kramer needs to know about this."

  "All right, all right. I'll take it to her. She can have the pleasure of telling the president what he doesn't want to hear."

  "There's something else," Thorne said.

  "There usually is with you. What is it now?"

  "Why did al-Khali's Gestapo happen to show up when I was at Ali's? The same thing happened in Turkey. Turkish intelligence was waiting for me at the meet with that colonel in Istanbul. Both times, the opposition knew I was coming. Which brings up a question. How did they know?"

  Carlson frowned. "I don't like where you're going with this."

  "You don't like it? How do you think I feel?"

  "You're saying somebody tipped them off about you?" Jenna said.

  "That's exactly what I'm saying."

  "The only people who knew you would be in Turkey and Syria are in this building."

  "That's right."

  "You think we have a mole."

  "It's the only logical explanation. Something happens once, it might be the breaks of the game. Twice means it isn't. It's too big a coincidence. You know I don't believe in coincidences."

  "First missiles, and now a mole. You really know how to make someone's day, don't you?" Carlson said.

  "I don't like it anymore than you do."

  Carlson sighed. It was something he did a lot when Thorne was around.

  "Jenna, who else knew about these missions?"

  "I'll find out. There are always people here who know things they aren't supposed to."

  "Let me ask you something," Thorne said. "Have other ops been going wrong lately?"

  Carlson and Jenna exchanged a look.

  Thorne nodded. "You just answered my question. How many?"

  "You don't need to know," Carlson said.

  "That bad, huh? Better call out the mole catchers," Thorne said.

  Chapter 16

  Later that afternoon Thorne was getting ready to go home. A light knock came on his office door. He opened it to see Jenna standing there.

  "Hey," she said.

  "Hey, yourself."

  "You done for the day?"

  "Yup."

  "Good. Then you can buy me a drink."

  "Best thing I've heard today," Thorne said. "Any preferences on where?"

  "Someplace where they have bottles with alcohol in them."

  "Oh. It's like that?"

  "I spent the last hour listening to Carlson complain about you."

  "I know the perfect place," Thorne said.

  Soon they were sitting in a booth in a McLean watering hole. Across the room, the bar was noisy. The booth was private. A waitress brought their drinks. Grey Goose martini for Jenna, Jameson up with a soda back for Thorne.

  Jenna looked at him over her martini with something smoldering in her eyes. Sudden heat flooded his groin.

  "Carlson wants your scalp," Jenna said.

  "What else is new?"

  "You never told me why he dislikes you so much."

  "It's a long story."

  "I've got time."

  "It goes back to my first posting, in Bucharest. Carlson was Chief of Station. He was starting his climb up the ladder."

  Jenna fished the olive out of her martini and ate it.

  "So, what happened?"

  "I was the new kid on the block. Carlson used me as a glorified errand boy. It wasn't what I'd expected life would be like as a hotshot CIA officer, but I figured it was all part of the learning curve. Anyway, I was approached by a man who'd been a captain in Ceaușescu's secret police."

  "The Securitate?"

  "Right. His name was Bogdan. Alexandru Bogdan. Those guys were the worst of the worst. They made the KGB look like kindergarten teachers. By the time I met him, he was old and sick. Somewhere along the way his conscience had started to bother him. He still had a lot of connections. He knew I was CIA. He also knew about the rendition site we have outside the city. What he wanted me to do was blow the whistle."

  "He wanted you to find a way to reveal the existence of the site? Publicly?"

  "Right. Bogdan knew I was only a peon. He said he wanted to talk to someone who had authority. Someone who had the details needed to convince the press it wasn't a phony story."

  "Why did he want it exposed?"

  "He claimed that if he could get the site shut down, it would help make up for all those years he'd spent torturing people. At least that was his story. He was very convincing."

  "What did he offer in return? He couldn't have expected you to just do what he wanted."

  "He offered gold. Not money, intelligence. Details on current Russian operations against the West. Active communication protocols and codes. The location of a nuclear weapons stash left behind by the Soviet Union. A list of Russian agents working in Eastern Europe. Like I said, gold."

  "Did you believe him?"

  "No. What he was offering was too good to be true. Plus he was asking me to become a traitor."

  "What did you do?"

  "I did what I was supposed to do. I went to my boss and told him about the approach."

  "Carlson."

  Thorne nodded.

  "And?"

  "And, Lewis got all excited. He figured we could pretend to agree to what Bogdan wanted and get the information."

  "As if that would work. Wasn't he suspicious of this sudden bonanza?"

  "When I told him I thought it was a play by the opposition, he blew it off. 'I was too inexperienced,' he said."

  "Asshole," Jenna said.

  "He saw it as a step toward a better posting. If he could bring home what Bogdan was offering, he'd be the golden boy."

  "Then what happened?"

  "He told me to set up a meet with Bogdan. Then he would pretend to make the deal. Of course, since he was so much more experienced than I was, nothing could possibly go wrong."

  "But it did?"

  "What do you think? I set up the meet. Carlson isn't dumb, whatever else he is. Bucharest isn't Moscow, but Chief of Station there is an important post. If you're in Carlson's position, you don't agree to go alone to a café in the bad part of the city because that's what the asset wants. He had me come with him as backup."

  "How come you never told me this story until now?"

  Thorne shrugged.

  "No particular reason. You never asked."

  Jenna smiled.

  "I suppose we had other things in mind when we got together. So he went to the meet and you covered him."

  "The meet was at a café in Ferentari. Have you ever been to Bucharest?"

  "No."

  "Back then, Ferentari was one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the world. It probably still is. Drugs, gangs, murder, you name it. There was no law in Ferentari. You were on your own. A foreigner would have to be crazy to go there. The fact that Bogdan would only meet there should have clued Lewis in."

  Thorne sipped his whiskey.

  "So, we go the café. It's after dark, there's one streetlight still working about a half block away. The street is empty except for a bunch of punks hanging out on a stoop down the block, smoking a joint. The café is a hole in the wall, next to an alley. The alley is pitch black. I'm paranoid as hell."

  "You were armed?"

  "Oh, yeah. Carlson, too. We park across the street. I can see Bogdan sitting at the rear of the café under the fluorescent lights. I'd told Carlson what he looked like, but it wasn't hard to identify him. He was the only one in there except the guy behind the counter."

  "Then what?"

  "We get out of the car. Carlson tells me to wait. I take out my gun and hold it down at my side in case it's a set up. I can't shake the feeling something's wrong. Lewis starts to cross the street when a car comes out of the alley and screeches to a stop. Two guys pile out and make a grab for him."

  "Oh, oh."

  "Oh, oh, is right. Lewis takes down one of them with a fancy judo move. I'm trying to get a clear shot without hitting him. Bogdan comes out of the café with a gun in his hand. I shoot him, he goes down. By this time Lewis has his gun out and he shoots the guy he threw onto the ground. The second guy gets one off, hits Lewis in the leg, and knocks him down sprawling on the street."

  "So that's why he limps sometimes. I always wondered about that."

  "It's about to be lights out for Lewis and I shoot the guy that put one in his leg, twice for good measure. The driver gets out of the car and fires at me. I shoot him, he falls down behind the car. All the time the punks on the stoop are watching the whole show, like it's for their entertainment. I run over to Lewis. Bogdan is up on his knees in the doorway of the café and he brings up his gun. I shoot him again and he's done. I hoist Lewis up, get him back in our car, and get the hell out of there."

  "Jesus, Mike. That's a hell of a story."

  "All the way back to the station, Lewis is yelling about how he's bleeding to death. When we get back I throw a field dressing on the wound. It took a chunk out of his calf, but the bullet missed the bone and arteries. He was lucky."

  "So how come he doesn't like you? He ought to be grateful."

  "He covered the whole thing up. He'd been suckered into a scam to get him someplace where they could grab him. If word of it got out, it would be his career in the toilet. He said if I told anyone he'd destroy my career. After all, who were they going to believe? Me, or someone who'd been in the Agency for years? "

  "Knowing Carlson, he offered you a deal," Jenna said.

  "I got a glowing fitness report from him. It included a recommendation for specialized training based on my 'exemplary skills demonstrated in the field,' I think it said."

  "The SSO program."

  "Yep. Ever since then, I've had to watch my back with him."

  "He's unhappy with you right now because of what happened in Syria," Jenna said. "Kramer doesn't like messy ops where people get killed. You need to watch your step. He's going to find some way to screw you if he can."

  "He's tried it before."

  "Yes, but this is different. Kramer ripped him a new one. You know what she's like. He blames you."

  "Figures. Like it's my fault a mole is screwing up his career track."

  He drank the rest of his whiskey.

  "Kramer is bad news when she's pissed off."

  "That might qualify for the understatement of the year."

  Jenna lifted her glass and drained it.

  "Want another?" Thorne asked.

  "You have anything to drink at home?"

  "I still have most of a bottle of vodka in the freezer from the last time you were there."

  "Vodka keeps. How about food?"

  "There's a steak in the fridge. I could throw it on the grill."

  "Perfect. Let's get out of here."

  "Jen..."

  She stood and looked at him. "What?"

  "Nothing."

  He dropped a twenty on the table.

  "I'll follow you," she said.

  They left the bar. Thorne got into his Jeep and pulled out of the lot. It was getting dark by the time they got to the house. Jenna pulled up in the driveway as he parked in the garage.

  He got the vodka out of the freezer and took glasses from one of the cabinets.

  "I haven't got any vermouth."

  "None needed," Jenna said. "Straight up will be fine."

  He poured two glasses and handed one to her.

  "Here's to it."

  They clinked and drank. The chilled vodka went down like fire and ice. Jenna let out a long breath.

  "That's exactly what I needed."

  She poured another and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Thorne pulled the steak out of the refrigerator and set it on a plate. Jenna watched as he poured Worcestershire sauce over both sides of the cut, letting it pool.

  From a rack on the counter he took garlic powder, black pepper, Himalayan salt, and Italian seasoning. He sprinkled each of the ingredients on one side of the steak, rubbed it in with his fingers, flipped the steak over and repeated what he'd done. Then he covered it with plastic wrap and set it on the counter.

  He washed his hands in the sink.

  Jenna said, "Can I do something?"

  "Nah, relax. I've got everything under control."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  She smiled at him.

  "Would Madam like a salad with her steak?"

  Jenna stood and came over to him. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck.

  "Madam would like an appetizer before dinner."

  She kissed him, reached down, cupped him.

  "My," she said. "That was fast."

  "I've missed you, Jen. Us."

  "Come on."

  She took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  It had been a long time since Thorne could have casual sex and not think anything more about it. Jenna had never been in the casual category. Part of him wanted to deny it, but what he felt for her at the moment was more than simple lust. He wasn't sure he was ready for it.

  As they undressed she touched the bandage on his side.

  "Does it hurt?"

  "Nothing to worry about."

  She looked at a row of deep scratches on his leg.

  "What happened to your leg?"

  "That's from a guard dog who tried to eat me. It wasn't his fault."

  "Kiss me," she said.