perfume. When he finished the chapter, Rostnikov looked up.
The woman was about forty, lean, wearing a tan skirt and blouse. She was quite beautiful. She was looking directly at him. She smiled. Rostnikov smiled back.
Over the woman’s shoulder Porfiry Petrovich saw Sasha Tkach enter the car. Rostnikov blinked his eyes once without looking at Sasha. The blink was enough. Sasha understood. He backed out of the car.
“Are you traveling alone?” the woman asked in Russian in a surprisingly deep voice.
“Yes,” he answered. “And you?”
“The same,” she said. “I think I know you.”
“I think that not likely,” he said. “I know I should remember you if we had met.”
“Thank you,” she said, widening her smile and holding out her hand. “I am Svetlana Britchevna.”
Rostnikov leaned over somewhat awkwardly. Her skin was tender but her grip was firm.
“I am Ivan Pavlov,” he said.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I’m a bit forward, I know, but I anticipate a boring trip and the more interesting people with whom I can converse the more quickly the time will pass.”
“The scenery during the day is supposed to be magnificent,” he said.
“I know,” she answered, straightening her skirt. “I’ve seen it many times. I travel the line frequently, three or four times a year. I’m an engineer. Electrical. Safety checks on various plants throughout Siberia. There are no stops on the line of any great interest to me till we get to Novosibirsk.”
“Nothing of interest is likely to happen before then?” asked Rostnikov.
“I speak from experience,” she said pleasantly. “And you?”
“I have never traveled on this train before.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “I mean, what do you do?”
“I am a plumbing contractor,” Rostnikov said. “Not terribly interesting to others.”
“But you find it so,” she said.
“Yes.”
“As I find computer programs. You know about plumbing, then?”
He nodded.
“My husband and I have a problem,” she said, leaning forward as if she were about to share an intimate secret. “We have cast-iron drain pipes in our basement. They are rotting. Were planning a new fixture. Do we have to, should we, use galvanized iron again?”
“No,” Rostnikov said, putting his book in his pocket. “A no-hub fitting can get you into the stack, with minimum difficulty. With special adapter fittings, copper or plastic supply lines can take over where the galvanized leaves off. It can usually be accomplished with the right tools, some no-hub clamps, spacers, a few sanitary crosses, possibly a tee and a riser clamp, using the right tools.”
“I think we had better get a plumber,” she said.
“It is really not difficult,” Rostnikov said. “You live in Moscow?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I would be happy to come to your home and examine your problem.”
“I couldn’t …” she began.
“No,” he said. “Plumbing is my pleasure.”
“But it might not be simple.”
“That would be even better,” he said.
“We will talk again,” she said, rising and offering her hand. He took it.
“That would be pleasant,” he said.
The woman turned and left the car. Rostnikov turned his eyes to the window, finding the last village lights before the plunge into darkness. In the reflection from the window a few seconds later he saw Sasha Tkach, who sat where the woman had been.
“Who was that?” Sasha asked.
“A very beautiful woman.”
“That I could see. What did she want?”
“To find out if I am a plumber,” said Rostnikov.
“If you are a plumber?”
“Yes. I believe she knows who I am.”
“Why would she approach you?” asked Sasha.
“A very good question. She wants me to know that she knows.”
“Then she doesn’t believe you are a plumber?”
“No,” he said. “She was playing a game. Like chess. She begins the game with a small move of a pawn. She asks me about a plumbing problem she does not have. I think she was pleasantly surprised that I was able to answer her question.”
“What does she want?” asked Sasha. “Is she the one with the suitcase?”
“Perhaps. I don’t think so. The question is, Why does she want me to know that she knows who I am?”
Sasha shrugged. It was the sort of problem Rostnikov relished.
“She has something to gain by my knowing of her presence.”
“FSB?” asked Sasha.
“Very likely,” Rostnikov answered.
FSB, the Federal Security Service,
The FSB, established in April of 1995, is overseen by the procurator general of Russia and has over seventy-five thousand agents. The FSB’s primary mission is civil counter-espionage, internal Russian security, organized crime, and state secrets. Terrorism, international borders, drugs, and various other classified areas are the province of the Russian Security Ministry, MBR,
“And she did tell me something which may be important,” Rostnikov said.
“What?”
“That the transaction will almost certainly not take place before we reach Novosibirsk.”
“She told you that?”
“I believe so. It will be an interesting trip. Do you want to try to sleep?”
“Too noisy in my compartment,” said Sasha.
“Mine too,” said Rostnikov. “Let us talk about your mother and her impending marriage.”
Chapter Two
“IT IS A BAD idea,” Elena Timofeyeva said. She had almost used the word
She looked up at Iosef Rostnikov, who had both of his boots off and had entered the apartment.
“You want help with that?” he asked.
