Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

"Well, unless you were able to come up with a street address-"

"9860 South Thomas Drive."

Kirov frowned. "Eugenia, how were you able to-"

"The Yellow Pages. Brilliant, yes?"

"Are you positive it's him?"

"No doubt. It's the address of his bar."

"They all know him there?"

"They should. He owns it."

He shot Hannah a glance. "You're not serious."

"He's actually in semiretirement from the bomb-making business. As far as I can tell, he won't work for terrorists or mobsters, which keeps him off high-priority U.S. watch lists. If you're hoping to draw him out by promising employment, it might not work. He does quite well by selling tall, colorful drinks on the beach."

"What's the name of the bar?"

"You're really going to like this. It's called 'TNT.'"

A few hours later Kirov lowered his high-powered binoculars and handed them to Hannah. "See it?" he asked.

Hannah scanned the beachfront bars until she found TNT. The colorful sign featured a graphic stick of dynamite traced in neon lighting. She shook her head. "Subtle." She smiled. "And amusing. He obviously has a sense of humor."

"I'm sure he gets a good chuckle every time he looks at it."

"Maybe he's not who we're searching for. It doesn't look like he needs Pavski's money."

"It may not be the cash. He's always considered himself an artist. He likes money as much as the next man, but I'm sure he still jumps at the chance to create new and better designs for his explosive devices. Especially if a lucrative offer came from someone he knows and trusts."

"Like Pavski?"

"Yes."

"Or you?"

"If he did the job for Pavksi, I'm not sure what he's been told about me. We can't just go stumbling in there. We have to have information."

"And how do we get that?"

"It's an electronic world. We'll try that first. But he's very smart. We have to have a hook."

"You know what he's like. What kind of a hook? What buttons can we push?"

"His ego, his conviction that he's the Michelangelo of explosives, his passion for good-looking women, his love of the good life." He took the binoculars from her. "Come on, we'll check into a hotel and clean up and plan strategy."

They found a decent Best Western Hotel located on the beach. Two hours later they had showered, rested, and met in the coffee shop on the lanai for dinner.

"The fish looks good," Kirov said as he handed her the menu. "Fish is almost always a safe bet on the coast. The competition for the tourist dollar is a guarantee."

Hannah nodded. "Order for me. I don't care. Anything."

"You're trusting me to make a decision?"

She smiled faintly. "I figured you couldn't mess up too badly on a menu choice."

"I'm flattered." He gestured to the waitress and ordered quickly before turning back to Hannah. "Did you get a nap?"

"No, I got a business call, and I had to take it."

"Business?"

"I do have a life apart from Silent Thunder . The sub was supposed to only be a fill-in job." She waited until the waitress filled her wineglass, then said, "I'm going to the Canary Islands and help with the exploration of Marinth. It's an underwater city that some people think may be Atlantis."

"I've read about it. The security surrounding it is cast-iron. Skeptic that I am, I wondered if that security was hiding a bogus discovery."

"It's not bogus. It's the real thing. I've seen some of the artifacts they've pulled up." She took a sip of wine and leaned forward, eagerness surging through her as she thought about it. "I don't know if it's Atlantis, but the city is ancient. It's going to be exciting. I can't wait."

"It's good to see you excited." He was studying her expression. "I haven't had the opportunity since we came together. Were you like this with the Titanic ?"

She shook her head. "We knew too much about it going in. Marinth is different. It's a whole new world to explore." She chuckled. "You said something like that to me, remember? That there were new worlds to discover. Well, Marinth is one of them. Scholarly tablets and ancient inventions and fabulous treasures. Who knows what we'll find?"

"Who indeed?" He was cradling his glass of wine in his hands, rolling it back and forth. "A true adventure."

Hannah found herself fascinated by that lazy, almost sensual movement. The crystal seemed fragile, infinitely breakable in those big hands, and his rubbing fingertips were light but oddly rhythmic.

Watch his hands .

Eugenia had said those words when she'd been describing Kirov's sexuality. Hannah could see what she meant. That restrained, rhythmic delicacy made one wonder how it would feel to be intimately touched by-

"But treasures?" Kirov asked. "I didn't think you'd be impressed by treasures. You didn't seem interested in the Golden Cradle itself. Yet the cradle is probably as ancient as your Marinth."

"I'm interested." She forced herself to look away from him and bring her mind back to the subject at hand. "But it's hard to think of the cradle without thinking of all the death and pain it's caused. I'm sure your sub's crew and Conner were only the latest in a long history."

"You're probably right."

"But you don't make the connection?"

"Not once the first pain passed. Look at all the treasures we lust after. The Amber Rooms, the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant. They dazzle us and draw us like beacons. The cradle is incredibly beautiful, but it's an object. Most treasures are created by man and, therefore, coveted by man. Men are violent creatures and will grab what they covet. That's why treasures must be guarded."

"How philosophical."

"I'm a realist." He met her eyes. "If I was taught anything at all by the Golden Cradle, it was to hold on to what I value and not ever let go."

She felt heat surge through her. She looked down into the wine in her glass. "Providing you live long enough."

He laughed. "There is that. Ah, here comes our food. Do you want to discuss Dane over dinner or wait until later?"

"We'd better discuss him now. After dinner I have something to do."

His brows lifted. "Really? What?"

She smiled at the waitress as she set her salad before her. "I have to go shopping."

Good morning, pretty lady." The bartender smiled at Hannah as she stepped off the sand and took a seat at the long bamboo bar. It was 11:15 A.M., and she was TNT's only customer.

She adjusted the flower-print skirt and bikini top. She wasn't comfortable in this outfit, but it had definite male appeal, and distraction was the name of the game. "Good morning. Am I your first customer of the day?"

"Yep."

No trace of a Russian accent, she noticed. The man was good-looking and had a beautiful bronze tan and unruly golden hair. No different than a thousand other beach bums she'd known. "Maybe it's too early for a drink?"

"Wrong. If that was the case, I would've slept in." He poured himself a shot of Bacardi and downed it. "You're on the Florida coast, honey. It's always time for a drink."

She smiled. "Okay, you talked me into it. Start me with one of those shots."

"Now you're talking." He poured the Bacardi and pushed the glass over to her.

She swallowed the shot. "Is this your place?"

He nodded. "You like it?"

"Very much. My name is Hannah."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dane. Everyone around here calls me Great Dane." His eyes were twinkling as he saw her brows raise. "I know. I know. But believe me when I say that it's nothing I expect or encourage."

Dane Niler in the flesh. This smiling, attractive man might have built the bomb that almost killed her, she realized. "I like the name of your bar, Dane. TNT. How did you come up with it?"

"I like surprises."

"Nothing more surprising than a stick of dynamite going off, I guess."