this room is bugged-and probably set up with a video camera, too?”
She blinked, and he knew from the expression on her face that no, that hadn’t occurred to her. God help him.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “But I think they already know who he is. And you know who he is. So the only person who doesn’t know who he is, is me.”
Jax said, “How much do you know about the KGB?”
“I thought it didn’t exist anymore.”
“Not technically. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the KGB basically split into two organizations. There’s the FSB, or Federal Security Service, which is like a combination of our FBI, Secret Service, Customs Agency, and DEA, all rolled into one. And then there’s the SVR, or Foreign Intelligence Service. They’re the Russian equivalent of the CIA.”
“Let me guess; this guy Andrei is with the SVR?”
“You got it.”
“So how do you know him?”
“The first time we met, we were in the jungles near Mandalay and I was right out of the Farm.” Jax glanced out the window at the heavy gray clouds pressing down on the runway and surrounding fields. A few drops of rain had begun to fall, beading on the glass to run down in long rivulets. “Andrei saved my skin.”
“So you owe him.”
“At the moment, we’re even. I saved his ass last year in Niger.”
“So does that make you friends or something?”
“Hardly. Don’t let him fool you. Andrei Gorchakove is a dangerous sonofabitch. He’s fiercely loyal to Russia, and he can be utterly ruthless when he needs to be.”
“I’d figured that part out myself,” she said dryly.
“That’s reassuring. Now I need you to tell me exactly what you told them-and nothing more,” he warned her.
She sat for a moment, as if running the last hour or so through in her head. “They already knew I was a linguist with the Navy. They even knew about my psychological discharge.” Her forehead crinkled. “How could they know any of that stuff?”
“You think we’re the only ones with spies? Their intelligence network is a hell of a lot more effective than it used to be. Back in the days of Communism, the Soviets were so insular the only spies they could run in the West were assigned to their embassies or with Aeroflot, which made them really, really easy to watch. Now the West is overrun with millions of expat Russians. And a big chunk of them report to the SVB.”
“He even knew about my father.”
Jax frowned. “Anything else?”
“No.”
It was time, Jax decided, to end Andrei’s little listening game. He said, “How’s your cat?”
The question obviously disconcerted her. Her face went almost comically blank. “My cat?”
“Your cat. What’s his name?”
“You mean, Beauregard?”
“That’s it. Beauregard.” Jax could practically hear Andrei sighing with frustration at the other end of the mike feed. A minute later, the door opened and the SVB man walked back into the room.
“Sorry about that,” he said in his precise English, shaking out a packet of British cigarettes. He held them out to October. “You smoke?”
“No, thank you,” she said with painful politeness.
The Russian went to perch on the edge of the desk, his attention all for the task of lighting his cigarette. It was a moment before he spoke. “You asked what’s going on, Jax.” He exhaled a stream of blue smoke. “I’ll tell you something: I’d like to know what’s going on.”
He pointed the tip of his cigarette at them. “A couple of days ago, the Kaliningrad militia reported a curious incident at a shipyard near the entrance to the Vistula Lagoon. When the manager stopped by to check on a shipment Saturday morning, he found his night watchman with a slit throat and a salvage ship called the Yalena floating in the cove. Everyone on board was dead.”
“A shipyard?” said Jax incredulously. He looked at October to find her sitting forward, her lips parted. He didn’t want to believe she had “seen” U-114 simply by reaching out with her mind, but the evidence was starting to stack up. “Did you say a shipyard? And a salvage ship?”
Andrei flicked the ash from his cigarette and frowned. “That’s what I said, Jax. A shipyard, a salvage ship, and thirteen dead men-fourteen, counting the night watchman. That’s an unusually high body count, even for Russia. And then I hear that Jason Aldrich has booked a flight to Kaliningrad.” He paused to look at Jax. “Don’t you ever change your cover identity?”
“There wasn’t a lot of time.”
“Evidently.” Andrei inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing against the smoke. “I ask myself, what has happened, is happening, or is about to happen in Kaliningrad Oblast that’s unusual? I think about that incident near the Vistula Lagoon, and I find my curiosity piqued.”
His gaze shifted to October. He said, “So I leave my nice, comfortable office in Moscow and travel down to this godforsaken place, expecting to meet my old friend Jax Alexander at the airport and show him a good time in Kaliningrad. And what happens? A beautiful young American Naval officer flies in that same morning.”
October squirmed uncomfortably, but said nothing.
Andrei spread his arms wide, then dropped them to his sides. “So, here I am. I have a salvage ship with thirteen dead bodies, a dead night watchman, a live CIA agent, and an American Naval officer with an interesting past, all showing up in Kaliningrad Oblast at roughly the same time. So now I ask you, Jax, what is going on here?”
Jax leaned back against the window, his gaze on his old adversary’s battle-scarred face. His options were severely limited, and he knew it. If he tried to stonewall Andrei, the Russian would have them both on the next flight out of Kaliningrad-or worse. There were times when the truth was the best option. “It’s about Nazi gold.”
October threw him a quick, incredulous glance, while Andrei-caught with a lungful of cigarette smoke-fell into a coughing fit. “What?” he said when he was able.
“The militia didn’t by any chance find an old German U-boat at this shipyard, did they?”
Andrei’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that? We haven’t even notified Berlin yet.”
“We saw it,” said Jax. He was aware of October giving him another look. But Jax knew what Andrei would think-that the Americans had “seen” the sub on a satellite image.
Andrei cupped his hand around his cigarette to scratch behind his right ear. “What is your interest in the U- boat?”
Choosing his words carefully, Jax laid it all out for him-the missing sub, the Nazi gold, the link to a looming terrorist hit on the United States.
At the end of it all, Andrei blew out a long stream of smoke, his eyes twinkling with silent laughter. “And you expect me to believe this?”
Jax shrugged. “It’s what they told me.”
Andrei’s smile widened. “I take it you’re still in Division Thirteen?”
“What do you think?”
The Russian swung his head to fix October with a hard stare. He was no longer smiling. “And you?”
She froze, her eyes widening in a deer-in-the-headlights look.
Jax answered for her. “The CIA didn’t anticipate me receiving such a warm and personal reception from the SVR. Since my Russian’s no better than it used to be, they sent Ensign Guinness along as a translator.”
“Her command of the language is certainly better than yours ever was,” said Andrei, his gaze still on Tobie. “Tell me, Ensign, did you learn Russian before or after your psychiatric discharge from the Navy?”
“Before.”
She said it calmly enough, although Jax knew that psychiatric discharge was a sensitive subject with her. Which was, of course, why Andrei mentioned it. Andrei was very good at finding sore points and pressing on them.
