“Three weeks ago.”
“How did it happen?”
“The Ghost tracked him down,” she said, seeing no need to explain further.
Nova seemed lost in thought, then he shook his head incredulously. “He tried to convince me when I was still in Moscow to help him, did he tell you that?”
“I told him what he was trying to do was impossible. No one would find the Ghost. No one knew who he was, or what he looked liked. I told him for all we knew the Ghost was probably dead. That those he silenced were the only ones who could do anything now.” He locked eyes with Petra. “Are you telling me I was wrong?”
She stared right back at him. “How am I supposed to answer that?”
“Tell me the truth.”
“We don’t know the truth yet,” she said. “But we are close.”
“You know who the Ghost is?”
“We know his Russian name. Nikolai Palavin.”
“His
“We believe he fled Russia not long before Gorbachev gave up power.”
“So you think this Palavin is in London?” Nova asked. “I have never heard of him.”
“We don’t know where he is, but we think a person who does is here.”
“The men you asked about.”
“Yes,” Petra said.
Nova shook his head. “If they do, why would they tell you?”
Petra thought of Dombrovski, and of Kolya, and of Luka, and of all those lost. “Because we will make them.” She paused. “Will you help us?”
Nova was silent for several seconds, then he smiled. “I can tell you where they are, but you’ll have to figure out how to get them to talk.”
“That’s all we want.”
“There is a matter of payment,” Nova said.
“We were hoping you’d do this as a favor.”
The small man grunted a laugh. “I don’t even do favors for my family.”
“We don’t have very much,” Petra said.
“I don’t want your money.”
Petra was confused. “Then, what?”
He leaned forward, the look on his face deadly serious. “If you catch the Ghost, I want you to come back here, and I want you to tell me.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s enough.”
Nova had provided addresses and descriptions for both Currie and Wills. Mikhail went off to check out Wills, while Petra concentrated on Currie.
She had located the flat in Chelsea where Currie was supposed to be working, but after several hours she had not caught a glimpse of the man. It didn’t help that dark clouds had moved over the city and let loose a steady, cold rain.
Mikhail wasn’t having any better luck with Wills.
“There are lights on inside,” he said, “but no one has come out. How long do we wait?”
“As long as we need to.”
But by ten-thirty that evening there had still been no sign of either man, and, reluctantly, Petra decided they should return to the apartment.
“Tomorrow we’ll switch targets,” she said as she lay down on her mattress. “That way we will both be familiar with the neighborhoods they live in.”
For a moment there was no response. Petra thought that Mikhail must already be asleep, but then he said in a low voice, “Perhaps it will change our luck.”
She nodded in the dark.
THE EUROSTAR LEFT PARIS NORD AT 8:13 P.M. ON its three-hour trip to London. As it emerged from the Chunnel—the tunnel under the English Channel—Quinn’s phone vibrated. He had two text messages. Both coming while he’d been under the sea. The first was from Nate:
In for the night. All clear here.
