Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

"Where did you get the explosives?"

"I paid a visit to Niler's workshop last night."

She stared at him incredulously. "That was stupid. You could have been killed. How did you get past his security systems?"

Kirov showed her a black box about the size of a cigarette pack. "I had this in my pocket when we went there with him. It's a radio-frequency code reader. When he deactivated the system, this box caught and recorded the frequencies from his remote. That's the reason I wanted to go out there. I thought that his tools of the trade might come in handy for us."

"You suspected him even then?"

He shrugged. "That's the world I live in, Hannah. Do you want me to apologize for not negotiating with you every step of the way?"

"Yes. I don't like to be left in the dark."

"Okay, I apologize. But I'd probably do the same thing tomorrow. This isn't you, and I like it that way."

" What isn't me?"

"The guns, the bombs, the killing. This isn't who you are."

"It's not you, either. At least it didn't used to be."

"You're wrong. I was raised to be a warrior."

"Being an officer on a sub isn't the same as blowing up cars. Before you went on the run, had you ever used a gun against someone? Had you ever killed a man?"

He shook his head.

"Our experiences make us who we are," she repeated the words he had once said to her.

"Then you've just lost your argument. I don't want you to become who I am." Kirov went silent for a moment. "I saw the look on your face when I talked about killing Pavski, and you knew it was actually going to happen."

"That was just because-"

"It was because you're human," he interrupted. "It's how you should feel. You might want to kill Pavski, but doing it in cold blood made you back away. I felt that way once, but I don't now. I don't want you to lose that piece of yourself. I want to shield you from as much of this as I can."

"It's not your job to protect me."

"No, it's my pleasure and my privilege," he said soberly. "And I'm not going to let you take that away from me."

"Kirov…" She shook her head. Part of her was frustrated and indignant, and part of her was experiencing a kind of emotional meltdown. How often had she been feeling this dichotomy of feeling for Kirov lately? Best to shy away from the personal while she was feeling this vulnerable. "What happens now?"

"We regroup and take a look at where we are and where we're going. Things have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Pavski no longer needs you alive. He knew you'd be in that car with me. It doesn't matter to him anymore. I've been thinking about it ever since I found Niler's bomb. It bothered me because it shows that Pavski no longer believes you have any information that can help him. He might have an informant with the CIA, he might have decided we wouldn't be wasting time with the antique dealer or Niler if we had any knowledge he was lacking. Or he may have gotten another lead on the cradle from the GRU file he got. You were our best opportunity of drawing Pavski out, and it's gone."

"Then we'd better look for another opportunity."

"That's what I'm doing. On the other hand, we have Bradworth and the CIA. Aside from my feeling that they'd be much too lenient with Pavski, I think he has some informants in the Agency. I don't like to trust them with information that Pavski could use against me."

"So?"

"It's time we turned our disadvantages into advantages."

"How?"

"That's what we have to decide." His brows lifted. "I'm open to suggestions."

And she had nothing to suggest. Everything was moving too fast, and she had to digest what Kirov had told her before she could think clearly. She shook her head. "Believe me, I won't be shy about giving you input when I come up with something."

He smiled. "No, there's nothing shy about you. It promises well for other aspects of our relationship." Before she could answer, he stood up. "In the meantime, I'll give you breathing room." He headed for the door. "I'm right next door to you. If you want to talk, knock on my door. I'll order takeout and deliver your supper at six. Okay?"

"Okay."

He looked over his shoulder. "And don't dwell on this. It won't do any good. It's over." He grimaced. "That's no good. Wrong thing to say." He whirled, crossed the room, and fell to his knees in front of her. "Do what you have to do. Feel what you have to feel." He held her gaze with his own. "But what's happened hasn't changed what you are. If I could take it away, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I can't do that." His hand reached up and gently touched her cheek. "And I'm too much of a bastard to wish that you'd never come into my life. All I can do is tell you that I'll shoulder every burden you'll let me. I'll fight for you. I'll give you comfort." His finger traced the line of her upper lip. "I'll give you anything you want from me. Is that enough?"

He was barely touching her, and her chest was tight, and the intensity in the room was thick and charged. Charged with what? She knew he was trying to comfort her, and the comfort was there. Yet there was also the disturbing element that seemed always to be between them now.

He shook his head as he got to his feet. "It's kind of mixed up, isn't it?" He turned and strode toward the door. "My intentions were good. It just didn't turn out the way I-"

The door closed behind him.

She slowly got to her feet and moved across to the picture window overlooking the sun-baked beach.

Another beach.

Most of her adult life had been spent either on beaches like this one or on the oceans of the world. She would have been contented and happy to have spent the rest of her days doing the same job with the same people. Even thirty days ago she would never have dreamed that she would be thrown into this chaos.

She had killed two men today. She had watched a man whom she'd found amusing and likable die because he'd tried to kill her and Kirov. And she had taken another involuntary step closer to Kirov in the midst of all that turmoil.

Mixed up? Yes, her life, and her responses were on a par with the confusion of every minute of this day. She'd just have to ride it out until all the madness was over.

And when the hell would that be? she wondered wearily. She'd thought they were on their way to getting Pavski when they'd found Niler. Instead, they'd barely escaped with their lives and were back to square one. Kirov might not be discouraged, but she was tired of treading water. She needed to see-

Her cell phone rang.

Kirov?

She took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

She stiffened. A chill went through her.

Conner Bryson .

"The operation was a bust in Panama City," Koppel said as he hung up the phone. "The local news is reporting two car explosions within fifteen minutes of each other."

"Then it can't be a bust," Pavski said. "One of those cars must be Kirov's."

Koppel shook his head. "One vehicle was driven by 'popular bar owner Dane Niler.'"

Pavski muttered a curse. "And the other?"

"We think it's our men. They were in pursuit of a vehicle that resembled the rental car Niler said Kirov was driving."

"Verify."

Koppel nodded and started to dial again.

Pavski barely listened to the conversation as he tried to control the anger surging through him. He had thought he had Kirov, but he had slipped away again. He was beginning to understand why his men had referred to Kirov as a ghost.

Damn him to hell. He needed Kirov out of his life once and for all. He might be getting a call from Danzyl any minute, and he couldn't chance Kirov getting in his way.

Koppel hung up. "I can't raise either of our men in Panama City."

Confirmed.