Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

"You didn't mention your wife's death when you told me about the death of all those seamen on the sub."

His lips twisted. "And Mira would have said that it was characteristic that I told you about them and not her."

"Because she always thought you put the sub before her?"

"It was a joke, but maybe she really felt like that." He wearily shook his head. "I don't know. But that wasn't the reason I didn't tell you Pavski killed her. You'd suffered the loss of your brother. I didn't want you to think I was trying to identify with that loss."

"And you don't think the death of a hundred and three seamen wouldn't cause me to identify? You said they were a personal loss to you. Were you telling the truth?"

"God, yes. Every one of those men were like family." He met her eyes. "But they weren't my family. There's a fine difference."

"I still don't see why you-" She stopped, studying him. "Were you, by any chance, being honorable?"

"Perish the thought."

She smiled. "I think you were. How funny."

"It's not funny." He scowled. "Okay, perhaps I had a soft moment and wanted not to influence you unduly, but honor isn't the word. Honor doesn't fit me anymore. It would be like wearing squeaky shoes."

"Squeak. Squeak."

"I believe I need a diversion." He waved to the waitress across the room. "I think I'll feed you. And after your meal I have a favor to ask."

She stiffened. "Ask it now."

He shook his head. "When we get back to the hotel. After I've plied you with greasy hamburgers and strong coffee."

Congressman George Preston sat in his Prius, staring at the disposable mobile phone that thug had given him on the street the other night. How in the hell had he gotten to this point?

One mistake twenty years ago. One bad night, and now it had come back to bite him in the ass. He couldn't believe he was still paying for it. It wasn't fair. He had spent all those years serving his country. Now he was sitting here, in terror of his whole life going down the tube.

It mustn't happen. He couldn't let it happen.

He pressed the speed dial button on the phone.

"Your damn bug's in place," he said curtly when Pavski answered. "Now back off. Leave Cathy alone and leave me alone."

"I'll leave Cathy Bryson alone if I don't have to use her or the children. It's a matter of need. But you're on the hook until I get what I want, Congressman. There's always a price to pay, Preston."

"And I'm willing to pay it. Hell, I'm evidently willing for every-one else to pay it too. But no violence, Pavski."

"What will be, will be. I have to have Hannah Bryson."

"There's no reason. I told you that she doesn't know anything. Bradworth assured me that she didn't know anything more, and she told him she wouldn't be able to remember the carvings on the plate. She was too traumatized by her brother's death."

"I believe you. I'm working on another angle now, and I may not need her input about the plates. But I do still have another agenda. Kirov. He's been a thorn pricking me, and he's getting nearer all the time. I can't have him getting in my way right now. There's no way I can get close to him. He's too experienced at playing hide-and-seek after all these years. But he's been working hand in glove with Hannah Bryson. I may be able to use her to trap him."

"Bait?"

"No, Kirov would just let me kill her." He paused, and when he spoke again his tone was malicious. "But you've just demonstrated how easy it is to persuade someone to betray a compatriot if the price is right. If I give Hannah Bryson a choice, I think I'll have no trouble getting what I want."

"No violence. I won't permit it."

"Stop bluffing, Preston. You'll weigh your career against an anonymous favor, and you'll close your eyes and bite the bullet." He hung up on him.

What a son of a bitch.

Preston pressed the disconnect. Pavski had treated him with an ugly arrogance that had made him feel pitifully ineffectual. Was he right? Would he look away and bite the bullet?

Christ, and was the fact that he was considering it already sending him halfway down that path?

Preston had been ridiculously easy to manipulate, Pavski thought. He'd been surprised how quickly he had caved. But then he was a politician, and politicians were always afraid of damage to their image. So much for the Frank Capra mystique.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the ID.

Danzyl. Excitement surged through him.

"Do you have it?" he demanded as he answered the phone.

"No." Danzyl hesitated. "It's extremely difficult. I believe we should renegotiate."

He stiffened. "Are you holding me up for more money?"

"I'm a poor man, Pavski."

"But you're alive. You won't remain that way long if you don't fulfill our bargain."

"I got those files for you. Even that was a risk. People are very cautious about dealing with you these days. What you did to the Silent Thunder left a certain taint." He paused. "But I asked myself why you'd dig up all of this again. It's not safe. You're a smart man, and you should leave it behind you. There are too many people who suspect you of the murder of all those men. But you can't resist. You don't care. That means it must be the Golden Cradle. Am I correct?"

"You're supposed to give me information."

"It has to be the cradle. I remember how furious you were with us when Heiser's father was killed before you could get to him. You'd do anything to get it."

"Yes, I would. That should cause you to be more careful in trying to gouge me, Danzyl."

"Fair is fair. I'm not asking for a percentage, just a little more money to pay the rent."

"How much more?"

"Double."

"Done."

He was silent. "No argument?"

"Oh, I'll give you a big argument if you don't come through. And for that money you'll have to do more than research. I want answers now. Get your ass moving." He hung up.

Slimy bastard. Danzyl had surprised him. He had thought he was a drone like Koppel. Smarter, more lethal, but not capable of facing up to him. It didn't matter. After he got what he needed from Danzyl, he'd remove him from the scene in the most painful manner possible.

It has to be the cradle. You'd do anything to get it .

Very perceptive, Danzyl.

He could remember his mother taking him to the Vitaka River and sitting there with him while she told him about the cradle and how he must reclaim it for the family.

"You're the one the legend talks about, Igor," she would whisper as she stroked his hair. "When I married your father, I had no love for him. He wanted my body, and I wanted his name. And I knew he would give me a special child. I felt it. Someday you'll claim the cradle, and everyone will know how wonderful you are. Then you'll make me a queen, won't you? All these people here think I'm not good enough, but you'll show them."

He would nod in agreement, but even then he'd scarcely been aware of her ambitions. He'd been lost in the dreams of glory of what he was to become.

What he was still to become.

His mother would never realize her ambitions. She had died before he had become fleet commander. He had barely noticed her death and been too busy to go to the funeral. He was starting to make plans to go after the cradle.

And then came the disaster on the Silent Thunder that had almost brought him down.

But it had only been a temporary setback, and he had been strong enough to put it behind him. Now all he needed was the cradle, and he'd be able to start his climb again. Nothing could stop him.

He got up and moved across the room to stand before the plates. He reached out and touched the unidentified symbol with his finger-tips, tracing the cross within the circle. It felt curiously warm beneath his touch. Was it a sign? "I'll have it soon, Heiser," he murmured. "You and your clever tricks are nothing. You can't keep it from me much longer. Just a few days more…"