Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

Kirov handed her a thick fold of bills. "Until then, this might help you get where you're going."

She pocketed the bills without counting them. "If you thought I'd refuse this, you thought wrong. Everybody needs help sometime. I'll just pass it along when it's my turn." She nodded as she headed for the door. "Thanks."

She stopped, hesitating at the door. "Look, there was another package."

"What?" Kirov said. "Along with the satchel?"

"No, it was brought in the night before Petrenko was killed. It was a rush job. Someone came to the shop to pick it up."

"Have you any idea what was in it?"

She shook her head. "But Petrenko did. He opened it and looked through it before he turned it over. I was thinking maybe he shouldn't have done that."

"It wasn't smart. Chances were the package had a security seal to tell if it had been tampered with. He might have signed his death warrant."

"He was nervous. You scared him. He didn't want to have that happen again."

"You don't know anything about the contents?"

"It was from Moscow. There was an official-type paper on top and other papers and letters, photos and stuff underneath." She frowned, thinking. "And there was a name stamped on the folder. I caught a glimpse of it but I only caught a few letters before Petrenko shoved it back in the package."

"Can you remember?"

"It was Russian. Petrenko was teaching me but it was damn hard. H, E, I…" She shook her head. "That's it. Does it help?"

"It helps," Kirov said.

"I'm glad." She opened the door. "Good luck to you. And if that good luck means catching up with the guy who killed Petrenko, I hope you score big."

Hannah turned to Kirov as the door shut behind Anna. "The information packet your source in Moscow said Pavski was expecting? Heiser?"

"Probably."

"Which Heiser? Captain Heiser or his father?"

"I'd bet he wanted more background on Heiser's father. Heiser was trying to tell his father about the location of the cradle. Everything was aimed at him."

"But Pavski has the plates. What does he need with info about Heiser's father?"

"I've no idea. I find it curious that it was a rush job. That means he did send for it after he had the plates. That may mean he saw something on the plates that he wanted to verify."

"What?"

He shrugged. "But if Pavski wanted in-depth information about Heiser, then I believe we should have it too." He reached for his phone. "I'll fax Eugenia all the information we've gathered plus the transcript of Heiser's conversation with his father. Let's see what she can come up with."

After they left Petrenko's shop, Hannah and Kirov drove to a coffeehouse in nearby Bridgeport, where they sat on the patio and studied printouts of the sonar readings Hannah had made from LISA . The pages almost resembled X-rays, offering red-tinted views of the cylinders and the tight clumps of mass within them.

Hannah found it difficult to concentrate on the pages. She was haunted by her last sight of Anna, duffel slung over her shoulder and all alone in the world. So strong, yet so sad. Hannah had always been independent, but she'd never lacked loving family support. Every kid should be entitled to that security. It should be written on a human bill of rights.

Kirov was frowning down at the readout. "You know, I think your experience with that explosive device on the ocean floor could be of use to us."

Hannah snapped to attention. "How?"

"If we knew who built it, we might be able to track him to Pavski."

"Well, I don't recall seeing a name and address engraved on the damned thing."

"No, but we now know that the device had some unique characteristics." He pointed to one of the canisters. "Pavski and I both knew a man named Dane Niler, who was probably the best underwater demolitions expert in the Russian Navy. Twenty years ago, he designed a series of mines that are still used in every ocean on the planet."

Hannah looked closer at the scan. "You think this is his work?"

"It's a strong possibility. I hear he's been doing a lot of work for South American drug lords in the past few years. They hide their shipments in underwater containers to throw off the drug-sniffing dogs, and Dane secures them with his booby traps. I'm told many of them are damn ingenious."

"Ingenious like a bomb that suddenly turns into an electromagnet and clamps itself to the target?"

"It seems like something Dane would create. I've never known him to work with Pavski, but there's a first time for everything."

"So how does that help us?"

"Dane is a mercenary. Even if Pavski is paying him, he's still looking for his next job."

Hannah nodded. "So if a lucrative offer suddenly floated in his direction, he might surface."

"Exactly."

"But how are you going to float such an offer if you don't know where he is?"

Kirov reached again for his phone. "Where there's Eugenia, there's a way."

"Aren't you putting a lot of pressure on her?"

"Checking the GRU package is going to be dicey. Finding Niler should be fairly easy for her." He started to dial. "Besides, Eugenia thrives on pressure…"

Yes." Eugenia's voice was uncharacteristically subdued as she answered the phone.

"What's wrong?" Kirov said. "Are you all right?"

She hesitated before replying. "Yes. You know, just very busy these days. What do you need?"

"I need some information on Dane Niler."

"Last I heard, he was working out of Florida somewhere. What do you want with him?"

"He might be working with Pavski now. I need you to find out."

"My usual sources have been compromised, Kirov. Pavski obviously knows they've been working on your behalf." She paused. "I also have excellent reason to believe he knows I've been helping you."

"I know, Eugenia. I never meant this to happen." He paused. "I'm sorry, but you'll need to find a way to insulate yourself from this. Petrenko was murdered yesterday, so Pavski might be taking extra pains to cover his tracks."

"I understand. I'll call you when I hear something."

"Be very careful, Eugenia."

"I always am, Kirov. I always am."

Eugenia cut the connection and dropped down on the stairs leading up from her office ground floor. Christ, she felt limp. She was actually shaking.

She stared into the foyer at the dead man lying gazing blindly up at the ceiling. Blood drained from the four tightly clustered bullet wounds in his torso. His twitching right hand still clutched the.38 handgun he'd pulled on her after she'd opened the door for his supposed delivery. She hadn't expected to be this shaken at killing a man. The years of being away from the KGB must have taken their toll. She was softer now. And she liked being softer, dammit. She liked her life, and she liked not having to put down pigs like that man in foyer.

But you couldn't ignore what you are, any more than what you were. There was always someone knocking on your door to remind you.

She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes. She'd have to move soon. That body had to disappear if she was to keep this good life intact. No problem. She had contacts who could take care of it.

Not yet. She would give herself a few more minutes.

Be careful, Kirov had said.

"Yes, my friend," she whispered wearily as she put her Walther P99 semiautomatic on the stair next to the cordless telephone. "I'm always a very careful girl."

KORIAZHMA, RUSSIA

7:25 A.M .

CIA Agent Bruce Fahey climbed the snowy hill overlooking greater Koriazhma, an industrial town that boasted one of Russia's largest paper mills. He'd been warned that the mill's odors could be over-powering, but the subzero temperature now dampened most of the smells. Biting winds roared down the hillside.