helicopters that filled the tactical screen. Damn it, damn you, you stupid son of a bitch — why now, damn you? The Hind took up, as if of its own volition, a new heading. To pinpoint Kedrov in the marshes, he would have to fly a north-south patrol until he obtained a triangular fix on the source of the response.
He listened to the tangle of orders and responses, he watched the tactical screen as closely as he might some poisonous creature about to strike.
The area of the agreed rendezvous was being patrolled at that moment. If Kedrov was exactly where he should be, and not somewhere else, then he was right in the middle of the search. He exploded the scale of the moving map until it showed only the islet that was the agreed rendezvous. There were still two helicopters registering even on that tiny pocket of earth and frozen water. One of them was dropping troops into the marshes.
He had to try to get Kedrov out as soon as he pinpointed his position.
Not there, not right there — please…
'Everyone's ready?' Priabin asked breathlessly. Dudin nodded, clearing his throat.
'As instructed, Colonel,' he confirmed. The windbreak rattled like a high flag at his back. Katya stamped her feet for warmth, arms clutched around her, hands beneath her armpits. Her face was pale.
'Well concealed? This could be a helicopter, someone could come on foot—'
'I was clear about that,' Dudin remarked with evident offense. His own impatience seemed not to exist, his excitement dim and contained by careful routine.
'Good man, good man.' Priabin looked up from the screen-Kedrov was sitting or pacing in the cabin of the houseboat, his tension like a silent scream. Above Priabin and the others, a GRU helicopter passed slowly across the night, its navigation lights winking. They had intensified their search of the marshes. Somehow, they'd made the same kind of deduction Katya had made, probably from the same evidence. Kedrov was here somewhere.
Priabin felt success about to be snatched from him; Serov's GRU people, with their vaster resources of men and machines, might have pinpointed the agent-in-place and be simply waiting for a signal to close in — just as his men were waiting for a signal.
Go in now, then. Claim the bloody prize. Get your hands on Kedrov before they do — wait for the collector to arrive. If he comes, another part of his thoughts answered more pessimistically. If he bothers, seeing the opposition in the area… go in now! Serov's people might well get their hands on whoever was coming to Kedrov's aid — and GRU troops would be there soon, he'd heard enough of their radio chatter to know how thoroughly they were searching— so get your hands on Kedrov.
'OK, OK,' he murmured, teeth chattering, gloved hands rubbing furiously together as if to ignite a fire. 'We're set. Make no moves, Dudin. Just let whoever the rescuers are come on — close in behind them.'
'Colonel.'
'Katya, you found him, you can come in with me. Dudin, when you spot them, only then contact me by transceiver.'
'Colonel. You think they'll come in force, then?'
'I don't know.' He glanced down at the screen. Kedrov had begun pacing once more — good. Creaking planks and the noise of his footsteps would cover their approach. 'Once I report we're in, and have Kedrov, get your men to remove the borescope and the cable. I don't want whoever's coming to spot them.'
'Shall I get the dog from the car, sir?' Katya asked.
'No. Kedrov doesn't appear to be armed. I think he's pretty much beaten already. Let's go in now.'
He turned as if to issue another order to Dudin, or to check Previous instructions, then waved his hand apologetically; even grinned. He stepped out of the windbreak, out of the shadow of the clump of bushes and stunted trees, down the slope onto the ice. ^reading warily. The wind hurled itself against him so that he staggered. The ice creaked unnervingly. As Katya caught up with him, be looked at his watch. Three twenty-four. He walked, leaning slightly backward, square-footed like a fatter man, feeling his overcoat plucked and whirled like a cape around his legs. Katya hurried at his side, gun already drawn, body hunched forward. The ice betrayed their passage, as if muttering to Kedrov.
The jetty, then. Priabin climbed the rotting steps carefully, easing his weight onto each one, then to the one above. He kept his hand away from the rail. Eventually, he crouched at the top of the steps, and Katya, moving with much less noise, joined him. Her breathing was rapid, excited.
A helicopter passed above them, perhaps no more than a couple of hundred feet. Still scouting. The moon was old and low in the sky; they were just two shadows amid shadows. But Kedrov must be getting panicky at the insistent overflights. Priabin wanted to hurry, scuttle on all fours like a dog along the jetty, bang open the cabin door, gun in hand, make certain of his quarry.
'Come on,' he whispered. 'Follow me.'
The helicopter's noise diminished toward the south. Priabin, bending low, hurried forward, caution no longer expedient or even desired. It was not a stalking game now, but a kill — Kedrov was his now.
He scurried beside the limp snake of the borescope cable, still carrying the images of the houseboat's interior. He was thirty yards, twenty-five—
— stopped. Because of Rodin.
He was playing for ridiculously high stakes. Kedrov, his would-be rescuers… Rodin and
'What is it?'
'What?' It was all too risky, too dangerous. He had been blinded by the dazzle of complete success. He had wanted it all. 'I' — he shook his head—'nothing. Come on,' he urged. The wind was at his back, blowing him toward the rotting houseboat like a scrap of paper. If he were quick, sudden—
He had whole minutes yet and a great desire to see shock subside into fear and defeat on Kedrov's face before he returned to Rodin.
'Come on.'
He was running without caution. Clattering along the jetty, his noises masked by the wind and the protests of the old boat. He jumped onto the deck, drawing the Makarov pistol from his holster. His open overcoat flew aside. He raised his right boot at the doors, two steps down from the deck, and kicked savagely at them, as if already cheated and circumvented by events. The doors flew open, crying and splintering. He stumbled down the steps. The wind caused Kedrov's shadow to flicker and enlarge, then shrink, as the oil lamp's flame wavered and smoked.
'Kedrov, you're done!' Priabin shouted, almost laughing, pleasure welling up in him.
Kedrov was stunned, then further startled to see Katya's small frame emerge from behind Priabin's coat, her.gun, too, trained on him. His mouth plopped open and shut, open and shut, like that of a goldfish. Priabin clasped Katya's shoulder, and said:
'You can arrest him, Katya — you found him.'
She moved carefully toward the bunk. Kedrov's shadow, their own shadows, danced and mingled and loomed at one another all around the room. A beer can rolled to Priabin's feet. He kicked it with the kind of pleasure he might have felt kicking back a boy's football in a park. Katya motioned to Kedrov to extend his hands. She handcuffed him. The man's mouth continued to open and close He could find nothing to say. Katya stood back, her narrow face flushed with excitement, her gun steady.
Priabin moved to the table. Tapped the transistor radio with the barrel of his pistol.
'Works without its batteries, I see,' he murmured knowingly. Further shock was impossible on the stretched, blanched mask of Kedrov's face. He spoke, however.
'How—?' Like an actor forgetting his lines, he dried after the single word.
'We know someone's coming,' Priabin said, offering no explanation of his knowledge, not even referring to the borescope. 'We'll all just sit and wait for him, shall we?' His voice was still musical with success. Katya, too, was smiling.
'When's he due to arrive? Soon, I should think, the way you keep looking at the door. Soon? Good — excellent.'
Priabin looked at his watch. Three twenty-eight. He'd give it until four. Then the worries returned. Rodin — I should have told Mikhail to watch Rodin, stay with him.
Would he somehow be made to pay for this success? He felt himself almost superstitious, needing signs and portents. The ticket to Moscow on the morning flight was waiting at the Aeroflot desk. He'd simply checked the
