Deadlock

FIFTEEN

IT WAS ALMOST DAWN WHEN she heard the car stop. It was barely-audible, and she knew he had parked far away from the house.

A few minutes later he was quietly opening the front door.

"Too late," Dardon said. "I did my best, Garrett."

Garrett stood in the doorway, his gaze on Emily. "Good morning."

She wanted to run across the room and hold him. No, she wanted to hit him.

"You should put more clothes on," Garrett said. "It's a little chilly in here. "

She glanced down at the long tee shirt, which reached her thighs. "I have enough on. And I don't feel chilly. I feel decidedly warm."

Dardon gave a low whistle. "I just remembered that I should be on my way to meet that plane bringing Irana." He got to his feet and headed for the door. "I'm out of here."

"Irana?" Emily repeated. "Irana's coming here? Why?"

"I thought we might need her. We were told Babin has some deal¬ings with the Church, remember?"

"And you'd run that risk on 'might'?" she asked. "When were you going to tell me she was coming?"

"It was no secret. You were a little upset earlier, and I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're damn right. I am disturbed." She drew a deep breath. "But we'll go into that later. What about Babin?"

"Oh, he's still alive. Pauley is driving him to the airport in Moscow even as we speak. I drove Babin's car back here. He's going to stay at his house in Monte Carlo for a while. He told me he'd feel safer from Staunton if he was as far away from Russia as he could get. Though I think he was more eager to get away from me. He was a little worried that I refused to give him my word that I wouldn't go after him later." His lips tightened. "Which I will. He's just unfinished business. I only let him scoot out of here in case I found I needed more information from him later."

"He'll probably disappear anyway."

"Maybe. But I'll know where he is. I called Ferguson and asked him to have an agent trail him from the time he got off the plane in Paris. Could I have a cup of that coffee?"

"It's cold. Dardon and I have been sitting here for hours."

"I'll heat it up." He moved across the room and put the pot back on the burner. "And I'm sorry you've been worried. I hoped you'd sleep through the night."

"You could always have given me knockout drops," she said sar¬castically.

"That wouldn't have been honorable. I took advantage of the sit¬uation. I didn't create it." He gazed at her. "And I knew I'd eventually have to face you over this. I had to decide if it was worth it."

"Babin," she prompted.

"He was reluctant, but I eventually convinced him that he'd talk to me or never talk again." "Is he a middleman?"

"Yes, for Peter Joslyn, the big plastics industrialist." He took the pot off the burner and poured coffee into a cup. "Joslyn hired him when Nicholas Zelov came to Moscow with old Mikhail Zelov's book and three amulets and wanted to turn them into gold. Nicholas Zelov went to Bishop Dimitri and offered them to him, but somehow)slyn was pulled into the mix. Joslyn didn't want Zelov to know that e was involved so he used Babin as a go-between. He told Babin that e was to get the Book of Living and. the amulets, and in return Zelov as to receive a huge lump sum that would get him out of financial ouble and quarterly allowances from then on."

"The amulets were that important?"

"Very important."

"And there was a treasure hidden in the hammer?"

"According to Babin. He said it was all in the Book of Living. As ell as where the hammer was hidden away."

She shook her head. "What difference would that make when all lat happened almost a hundred years ago? Why wouldn't he have Hie back and retrieved it himself? Or why wouldn't the Communist wernment have discovered it in all that time?"

"Evidently they didn't."

"It's hard to believe that it could be safely hidden for nearly a cen-iry. Where?"

"In plain sight. With a collection of other farm equipment in a useum in Siberia. What could be safer?"

"Artifacts in museums aren't safe. I'd be out of a job if they were."

"This museum was different. It was called the People's Museum, he exhibit was a symbol of the workers' revolution. It was several iols artfully arranged, and over it flew the flag that had the hammer id sickle of the new Communist state. For decades it would have;en considered close to treason to disturb such a patriotic showcase, ibin said that Joslyn must have believed that it had remained undis-›vered, or he wouldn't have been willing to put out the kind of loney he did to buy the Book of Living and the amulets. Or to au-lorize him to hire Staunton to go after the hammer when they found it that the farm equipment exhibit had been sent on loan to that luseum in Afghanistan. He told Babin to keep the amulets in the safe in his office. He didn't want to have them in his possession since the} were stolen historical artifacts." He patted his jacket pocket. "We have them now. That makes three."

"Are they any different from the one we got from Nemid's safe?"

"Only minor differences in the scrolling of the gold around the picture."

"But did Joslyn take the Book of Living?" He nodded. "Joslyn has one book." "One?"

"Babin is a crook. Do you think he wouldn't make a photocopy of the book for himself before he let it out of his hands?" He reached into his jacket pocket. "By the way, he said that there was a map dated 1913 tucked in that Book of Living that he gave to Joslyn. He made a copy of that, too. That means Nemid's map was probably a very well done fake. Babin was very disappointed in most of the content of the book. He was only interested in the treasure that was in the hammer. He was likely thinking of doing a double cross, but when he found out that all the farm equipment had been sent on loan to the museum in Afghanistan, it complicated everything, and he felt out of his league." He pulled out a loose-leaf volume. "But he kept this copy in his office safe anyway. So we dropped in there and retrieved it before I sent him off to the airport."

She reached out and took the volume. "Russian."

"Yes, you'll have to trust me to translate." He gazed at her over the rim of his cup. "If you can."

"I think I can trust you in some areas," she said coolly. "But the hammer wasn't with the other farm equipment in that museum cellar in Afghanistan. So it has to be somewhere else, doesn't it?"

"So it would seem."

"And what was that amulet we found in Nemid's library?"

"A bribe. Babin said he left it up to Staunton how to get the ham¬mer from the museum in the fastest manner possible. The U.N. was to be the first to go into that area after the fighting. So Nemid commandeered your team to go in so that Staunton could raid your truck on the way back."

Blood running from beneath the overturned truck.

"And that amulet with Rasputin's picture was Nemid's bribe money? Why? What's it supposed to be?"

He shrugged. "I didn't go into more than the bare facts with Babin. Staunton must have convinced him that it had some value. Probably it was supposed to seal the partnership. Maybe after we read the book, we'll know more."

"I want to see the amulet again."

"It's in my suitcase. I'll get it for you." He got to his feet and went outside to the lean-to. He was back in minutes and handed her the box. "Anything else?"

"You can translate Mikhail Zelov's book double quick." She opened the box and gazed down at the amulet of Rasputin. "Payment for all that blood and misery… Look at him. Those burning eyes. He looks like the holy man he pretended to be. The holy man Zelov created." Her gaze shifted to the words below the amulet. "You're sure this is just a blessing?"

He nodded. "And I looked for any secret compartments or other writing. Nothing. I checked out the map, too. No invisible ink or any¬thing similar. Though if it was a copy, it probably wouldn't show any indications. That doesn't mean that under sophisticated tests some¬thing might not show up. But you have to consider that this amulet was created in the early twentieth century."

She closed the box again. "Did Babin tell you what was supposed to be in the hammer?"

"Oh, yes." He smiled faintly. "And it's quite a treasure. Not Anas-tasia's jewels or the Tsarina's favorite pearl pendent. It's precise direc¬tions to the location of the treasure the Tsar had sent out of the country in case the royal family had to flee the revolutionaries." He paused. "Billions, Emily. Billions."

"It didn't do him any good, did it? His whole family was butchered before he could get them out of Russia."

"But you can see how it would be a lure that would attract Babin and Joslyn… and perhaps Bishop Dimitri."

She nodded. "I can see it." She got to her feet. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Why don't you take a nap, then start working on that translation."

His brows rose. "That was more an order than a request."

She stared him in the eye. "Neither would really do me any good, would it? I know you'll do whatever you want to do. You proved that tonight."

"Is this where you tell me what a bastard I am for leaving you here while I went after Babin?"

"You like to work alone. Dardon was very definite on that subject." She paused. "So that leaves me no choice but to work alone, too."

Garrett muttered a curse. "That's exactly what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want you to get impatient and go out on your own because you thought I was dragging my feet."

"So you left me and went off and risked your neck. Was it to prove you weren't dragging your feet?"

He shook his head. "I won't lie. I was planning on doing it before we even went to Babin's office."

"And you didn't tell me."

"Dammit, I saw how you were at Babin's office. Just seeing him and knowing he was at the hut made you go into a tailspin."

"Okay, I was upset. But I worked my way through it. You didn't give me a chance. You just patted my back and said, there, there, little girl. Then you went off to do my job."

"It was my job, too, Emily."

"I thought it was our job. Last night I was going to come to you be¬cause I trusted you. I was feeling alone and uncertain, but I thought that we were partners, that we were working together. I wanted to be close to you." She added fiercely, "But I couldn't trust you. You were gone. You'd lied to me." "Not exactly."

"Don't quibble. If I'd walked out of that room before you left, would you have told me the truth?" He was silent. "Probably not."

"I rest my case." She turned away from him. "How can I trust you again, Garrett?"

"You can trust me to get the job done," he said. "You can trust me to keep you alive. You can't trust me to let you risk your life. I can't let that happen."

"It's my choice."

"No, it's my choice," he said roughly. "I can stop it. I can step in the way. I did that tonight."

"Why, dammit? We were working together."

"How the hell do I know? It just hurts me to think about it." He smiled without mirth. "And it's not because you're a great lay. Though you are. But I've had great lays before, and I didn't get torn up. You should have known it would come down to this. It's been hovering there since that first night at Shafir Ali's tent."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Is it because you pity me?"

"Lord, no."

"I think it is. Why else would you send for Irana? You'd risk her be¬cause you think that I'm not competent enough to do what needs to be done. You wanted to put me in one of those hideous burquas and throw me behind closed doors." Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Don't you dare pity me. Don't you dare discount me. I could do this alone. It would be hard. It would take me more time. But I could do it. You don't want me to go off by myself? Then you straighten up and keep the promise that you gave me. I asked you to help me, not take over." Her voice was shaking with anger, and she tried to keep it even. "And I didn't ask you to let me sit here and wonder if you were going to be killed at Babin's place tonight. You might deserve it for be¬ing so stupid and male and domineering, but that wasn't our agree¬ment, and if you ever do it again, I'll-" She whirled and strode toward her bedroom. "Now you translate that book, dammit."

STAUNTON WATCHED AS P A U L E Y and Babin got out of the car at the airport parking lot and entered the main terminal.

Yes. He'd hoped that Garrett's man would go in with Babin when he'd followed them from Babin's house. He got out of his own car and moved down the two rows separating them. He'd go in and check Babin's destination later, but this came first…

He carefully slipped a bug under the back bumper. It might not even be necessary. The man Garrett had designated to deliver Babin to the airport didn't appear any too sharp, and Staunton might be able to follow him back to Emily. But Staunton always prided himself on being thorough.

Ah, Emily. How he missed the bitch. They had been so close, they had almost become one when he was working on Levy. She would be an exquisite pleasure.

Soon, Emily. Bugging the car might not be needed at all. After re¬ceiving that call from Borg earlier in the evening, he was almost sure of it. If everything went as planned, Emily might be coming to him on her knees. What a pleasant thought.

He returned to his own car and slipped into the driver's seat. He would wait here and make sure that Babin was just being put on a plane and not accompanied.

In the meantime, he had other business to conduct. Garrett was proving to be difficult. It might be time to change tactics. Staunton had hoped to buy a little more time, but it could be that he'd have to be satisfied with what he'd already gouged out of Babin.

But he might still be able to tap the prime source. It was time

Joslyn was brought into the real world and got his hands a little dirty. He couldn't hide behind Babin any longer. Staunton would know as soon as he told Joslyn what he'd done to get that hammer whether he'd go along or if Staunton would have to go in another direction.

A new day was dawning, things were changing, and he had to meet the challenge.

He dialed his phone, his gaze on the front entrance of the airport.

"Joslyn, this is Staunton. We have to talk."

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME since she'd been to Russia, Irana thought as she gazed out of the window as the jet came in for the land¬ing at the small private field outside Moscow. She had been only a young girl, full of enthusiasm, thirsting for knowledge, ready to ex¬plore the entire world.

She supposed she hadn't really changed that much. She was older, more experienced, a little sadder, but she hoped that she had kept that enthusiasm and boundless curiosity.

But Russia had changed in those years, and she was eager to see those changes.

"We're here, Dr. Povak." The pilot, Chad Nalley, came out of the cockpit after taxiing to a stop. His smile lit his wholesome, boyish face with warmth as he said to Irana, "And if I'm not mistaken, that's Dar¬don parked by the hangar. Evidently he wants to make sure you're whisked back to Garrett with the speed of light."

"I got that impression." Irana smiled as she released her seat belt. "Thank you. You've been very kind."

"My pleasure. You're a very nice woman, Dr. Povak." He turned the switch that let down the automatic stairs. "You take care of your¬self." He went down the steps ahead of her and turned to help her. "Garrett isn't the safest man to-"

Pain!

She was lifted, thrown like a paper doll down the rest of the stairs. Fire. Heat.

Blast. There had been a blast…

She rolled over on the ground and saw Dardon trying to get out of the car. But the windows had been blown out, and the doors were twisted.

The pilot was groaning a few yards away from her, blood dripping from a deep cut on his forehead.

She had to get to him. She had to help him.

She couldn't move. What was wrong with her? She struggled to her knees. If she could get to her medical bag in the plane, she could-

What was left of the Gulfstream jet was in flames.

"Welcome to Moscow."

She looked up at the man who was coming toward her. Sandy hair, broad fair eyebrows, carrying an AK-47. He was smiling… Who would smile at a moment like this?

"Come along, I've been waiting for you." He jerked her to her feet. "Emily must have told you about me. I'm Staunton." He was pulling her toward a car on the other side of the burning aircraft. "Now be a good girl. I'm in a hurry. You can either accommodate me, or I'll send a few bullets toward Dardon in that car and a few more at that pilot lying on the ground."

He would do it.

"Please, just give me a minute. The pilot is hurt. I need to help-"

"How kind you are. But he really doesn't deserve it. All Borg had to do was offer him enough money, and he gave him your flight plan."

She still held back. "Just let me stop his bleeding."

"You're wasting time. You want the bleeding stopped?" He sprayed a barrage of bullets into the wounded pilot. "It will stop soon. Now do you want me to aim at Dardon's gas tank and blow his car up?"

She couldn't take her gaze from the torn and bloody remains of the pilot. "No, I'll come." Her legs were working now, but she was still dazed. Just get him away from Dardon. Just stop the killing.

"Borg thought you wouldn't cause me any trouble, but the idiot almost blew you up. I wouldn't have liked that one bit. He should know how to set the proper charge by now." He smiled. "But here you are, and here I am. Won't that be fun?"

"EMILY." GARRETT WAS S T A N D I N G at her open bedroom door.

She scrambled up in bed. "Did you finish the translation?"

"No." He paused. "I just got a call from Dardon."

She tensed. Something was wrong. "Irana. Did something happen to her plane?"

"Oh, yes, something happened to it." He lifted his hand. "She's alive. She may not even be hurt. Dardon couldn't tell."

"What do you mean he couldn't tell? A plane crash is-"

"It wasn't a plane crash. Dardon had just pulled up to the hangar after Irana's plane came in. She was coming down the steps when the plane blew up. "

"What?"

"An explosion," he said. "An explosion timed to go off a few min¬utes after the stairs were lowered. At least that's what Dardon's think¬ing right now."

"Staunton," she whispered.

"He didn't set it. But he was there to shoot the pilot and pick Irana up and take her away after the explosion."

"Staunton has Irana?" She couldn't take it in. It was her worst nightmare. "You're sure?"

"Dardon saw him pulling her toward a car on the other side of the plane."

"Then, dammit, why didn't he stop him."

"His car was damaged by the blast, the doors were sealed. He couldn't get the door open until it was too late. The pilot was dead. Staunton was gone."

"And he's got Irana," she said dully. "We'll get her back."

"How?" She turned on him, and asked fiercely, "How are we going to do that, Garrett? What are we supposed to do now? He took her away as if we were helpless children."

"Do you think I don't know that?" His voice was hoarse. "I'm the one who promised her I'd keep her safe if she came here. I didn't do it. That son of a bitch-" He broke off and turned away. "Get dressed. Dardon should be back here anytime now."

"How, Garrett?"

"We find out where he is and go after him. Dardon got the license-plate number and the make of his car."

"That's not enough information. Russia is a huge country."

"But Staunton will stay fairly close."

"Why?"

He looked back over his shoulder. "You, Emily." She nodded as she saw where he was going. "He doesn't really want Irana. He wants me."

"That's my guess. He'll try for a trade." "Thank God."

"Which we're not going to give him. We have to find him before that-"

"Don't tell me what we're going to do." Her fists were clenched at her sides. "Do you know what he'll do to her? I do. I've seen it. You don't understand. He doesn't care. He likes it. I'm not going to let him hurt Irana. He wants me? He'll get me. Just find a way that I can keep a weapon to kill him."

"It may not come to that. Not if we can find a way to locate him before-"

"It will come down to that. I've always known that it might." She grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. "So find Staunton if you can, but it doesn't really matter. One way or the other, we're going to get Irana away from him."

GARRETT MET DARDON AS HE drove up to the farmhouse thirty minutes later. The front bumper of his car was twisted, the paint blis¬tered in places, and the glass in four of the windows was broken.

"God, I'm sorry, Garrett." He opened the car door with difficulty and got out. "I tried to-I managed to get the door open but then I- Hell, I was afraid he'd kill her like he did that pilot."

"I wasn't there. I can't judge," Garrett said. "I know you like Irana. You would have done everything you could."

"How is Emily taking it?"

"How do you think? I have to find that bastard before she puts her head on the chopping block." "How?"

"That's what she asked." His lips twisted. "The big question. But I'll find the answer." He had to find it. First Karif, and now Irana. Staunton had taken too much from him. He couldn't let Irana die as Karif had died. He looked down the road. "In fact, the answer may be coming toward me right now."

Dardon's gaze followed Garrett's to the approaching car. "Pauley?"

"Pauley."

They watched as Pauley drove into the farmyard and parked the BMW next to the car Dardon had just gotten out of. He stuck his head out the window and gave a low whistle as his gaze wandered over the scorched and shattered body of the Mercedes. "Garrett, I have to talk with you about taking better care of your automobiles. That Mercedes was a fine car. As you can see, I'm delivering this car back to you in tip¬top shape."

"Did you put Babin on the plane?" Garrett asked.

Pauley nodded. "And I waited until the plane took off. But I think he would have left anyway. He was very nervous. You're very good at intimidation, Garrett. Can I learn that, or is it a natural gift?"

"You wouldn't want to put in the time involved to develop it. Stick to your own talents."

"But I want to expand my horizons. You opened a whole new world to me last night."

"You want to expand your horizons? Then hit the computer. I have a problem that should give you enough of a challenge to satisfy you."

"That's not the challenge I-" He stopped, studying Garrett's ex¬pression. "You're pretty grim. Something's not so good."

"How perceptive," Garrett said. "Something's pretty damn lousy."

"And you want me to be Superman and set the world right for you," Pauley said. "Would you like to tell me how?"

"We have the make and model of a car. We even have the license-plate number. We just don't know exactly where it is."

"Call the Russian version of the highway patrol?"

"No."

"I was afraid that was going to be your answer. What am I sup¬posed to do?"

"Hijack one of the military satellites that we still have focused on Russia and zoom into the area and locate that car." "Hell, no."

Garrett ignored him. "And it has to be quick and not detectable. We can't have a SEAL team parachuting down and trying to take us out." "Impossible." "Not for Superman."

"If I got caught, I'd not only be thrown into prison for the rest of my life, but I'd probably have to do slave labor at my computer for the government. That's a fate worse than death."

"Can you do it?"

He didn't speak for a moment, then said reluctantly, "Yes, there are a few satellites that were sent up in the eighties that didn't have so¬phisticated security apparatus. I've played around with them a little. But I won't do it."

"Name your price. You want to retire anc

ne

problem."

Pauley shook his head. "It's too hot, Garrett."

"Please, Pauley." Emily was standing in the doorwi. Irana, will be hurt," she said unevenly. "We have to find

Pauley gazed at her in frustration. "I don't want to d It's going to be difficult as hell and not worth-

"He'll hurt her, Pauley."

And Emily was hurting right now, Garrett thought. She looke most as pale and fragile as she had the night that Garrett had taken away from Staunton. He desperately wanted to reach out, help her, comfort her.

Evidently Pauley was having the same reaction.

"Oh, shit." He got out of the car. "Give me the information you have, Garrett. How much time do I have?"

"As little as you can get by with. Emily's right, it's a nasty situation."

"Life or death? I don't like that kind of responsibility." He headed for the door. "It won't be hard finding a satellite that can do the job but I have to get in and get out fast. Do we have any general idea where the car is located?"

Garrett shook his head. "Maybe a hundred miles in any direction from Moscow." "Great."

"Thank you, Pauley," Emily said.

"Thank me when I find the damn car." Pauley added gloomily, "Or when they tote me away to Leavenworth." He disappeared into the house.

"Will he be able to do it?" Emily asked Garrett.

"Yes."

"Will it be in time?"

"Maybe. I won't lie to you. It's going to be hard." He turned to Dardon. "Go in and give him a description of that car down to the size of the hubcaps."

Dardon nodded. "Hell, I'll even make his coffee for him."

Emily sat down on the doorstep and linked her arms around her knees. Garrett could see the tension that locked every muscle of her upper body. Again, he felt that urge to do anything he could to com¬fort her. But she wouldn't accept comfort. Not now, not from him. The only comfort he could offer either one of them would be to get Irana away from that bastard.

"I'll let you know as soon as Pauley makes some progress."

She nodded jerkily. "Please. I won't go inside. I don't want to dis¬turb him."

"You won't disturb him."

"I can't take the chance."

"Then I'll bring you a jacket. It's chilly."

"I'm not cold. I'll just wait here."

Wait. It wasn't only results from Pauley for which she was waiting, he knew. She was waiting for a call from Staunton.

He hoped to God Pauley came through before Staunton did.

"YOU'RE BEING VERY INTELLIGENT, Sister Irana," Staunton said as he pushed Irana into the small room at the very end of the ware¬house. "I always appreciate a guest who causes me so little trouble."

"I'm not a sister," Irana said. "I gave up the right to be called that a long time ago." She gazed down at the ropes binding her wrists. "And I'd be foolish to try to escape unless I had a chance to be successful."

"That's right, you would." He smiled. "But I expected… fear. Emily was afraid. She fought it like a tiger, but the fear was there."

"It's more courageous to fight if you're afraid. Emily is very brave."

His smile faded. "But not you. You're helpless, but I don't see-I don't believe I like you, Sister Irana."

She gazed at him steadily. "I can see that you don't. It doesn't dis¬turb me."

"I believe it would take a good deal to disturb you," he said softly. "What a challenge."

"Why would you want to bother? I'm not important to you. This isn't about me, is it? It's about Emily."

"But I don't want to cheat you of your share of attention. After all, you're the woman who is going to give me what I want."

"Why don't you leave Emily alone? She doesn't know anything. She would have told me if she did."

"Not necessarily. Maybe she doesn't like religious do-gooders any more than I do, Sister Irana."

She gazed at him without expression.

"No answer. No defense?"

"No, I was just wondering why you're prejudiced against people of faith. Did one of us hurt you?"

"They couldn't hurt me. I have nothing to do with any of you." I see.

"You don't see anything." He muttered a curse and reached for his phone. "I'm the one who does the hurting. I'm the one who gives the commands."

She tensed. "You're calling Emily?"

"Oh, that stirred you." He smiled maliciously. "Not yet. I want her to worry a little longer. Anticipation." He dialed. "No, I'm calling my old friend, Borg. It was Borg who arranged for your delivery here to me. He was planning on taking you in Morocco, but when he heard your call from Garrett, he had to adjust to the situation. He hurried out to the airport ahead of you and set the charge in the plane, then had a chat with your pilot. But it all worked out, didn't it?"

"Are you calling to congratulate him?"

"No, it's come to my attention that there has to be a change of agenda. I'll use Borg to accomplish it." He spoke into the phone. "Yes, everything is going splendidly here, Borg. Just checking to see if you're in Paris yet. That's good. Yes, go ahead with it. I look forward to hearing from you." He hung up and looked at Irana. "You see, I'm the one in control. I pull the strings. I give the orders. If I'd ordered Borg to kill you in Morocco, he would have done it. I own him." "Poor man. He must be truly tormented."

Staunton's lips tightened. "And you're a stupid bitch. You can't see anything but what you want to see." He drew a deep breath, then smiled brilliantly. "But there are ways to open your eyes. I look for¬ward to showing them all to you, Sister Irana."

"MY GOD," GARRETT WHISPERED, his gaze on Pauley's com¬puter monitor. The screen was filled with figures, equations that were constantly changing as Pauley's fingers were flying over the keys. "Is he as close as I think he is?" he murmured to Dardon. "It's only been six or seven hours."

"You told him to hurry," Dardon said. "He said he'd be quicker, but he has to build walls as he goes to keep anyone on another com¬puter from seeing what he's doing. He should be able to zoom in any minute."

"It can't come too soon. Firepower? Did you have any problem getting the heavy stuff we may need?"

"In Moscow? There are black-market munitions dealers all over the place. I picked it up a couple hours ago."

"Good." Garrett leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest, his gaze on that constantly changing computer moni¬tor. "Let it rip, Pauley…"