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By Root 267 0

the line of the jaw all the way to the ears. Then he removed the blade, rose, and allowed Thomas to flop to the floor. The doctor pocketed the knife and walked away without a glance back. The American lay there, his arms weak and his fingers moving aimlessly. He could feel the warm blood flowing from both sides of his throat as the flesh around it grew cold. He tried to call out, but his voice was a burbling whisper. Then he realized that his chest was moving but no air was going to it. There was blood in his throat. Thomas's thoughts were confused. His vision swirled black. He thought about flying up to Baku, about meeting with Moore. He wondered how Moore was. And then he thought about his children. For a moment, he was back playing ball with them on the front lawn. Then they were gone.

Saint Petersburg, Russia Tuesday, 4:01 a.m.

General Sergei Orlov was standing in the snow in the small town of Nar'yan Mar on the Arctic Ocean when a peeping bird caused him to start.

He turned to look for it and found himself staring at his alarm clock.

He was back in his one-bedroom apartment in Saint Petersburg.

"Damn you," Orlov said as the phone rang again. The former cosmonaut did not often dream of the town where he grew up. He hated being taken away from it and from his loving parents.

"Sergei?" his wife Masha said groggily beside him.

"I have it," Orlov told her. He picked up the receiver of the cordless phone. He held it to his chest to stifle the ringing.

"Go back to sleep."

"All right," she said. Orlov listened enviously to the cozy rustle of the sheets as his wife curled up on her side. He got out of bed, pulled a bathrobe from the edge of the door, and pulled it on as he stepped into the living roomEven if this were a wrong number, Orlov would have trouble getting back to sleep. He finally answered the telephone.

"Hello," Orlov said with a trace of annoyance.

"General Orlov?" said the voice on the other end. It was a man.

"Yes?" Orlov said as he nib bed his eyes vigorously with his free hand.

"Who is this?"

"General, it's Paul Hood," said the caller. Orlov was suddenly very much awake.

"Paul!" he practically shouted.

"Paul Hood, my friend. How are you? I heard that you resigned. And I heard about what happened in New York. Are you all right?" Orlov walked over to an armchair while the woman translated. The general had a decent command of English, the result of the years he spent as a goodwill ambassador for the Russian space program after his flying days were finished. But he let the woman translate to be sure he didn't miss anything. Orlov sat down. Standing just under five-foot-seven, he had the narrow shoulders and compact build that had made him an ideal cosmonaut. Yet he had presence. His striking brown eyes, high cheekbones, and dark complexion were, like his adventurous spirit, a part of his Manchu heritage. He walked with a significant limp due to a left leg and hip badly broken when his parachute failed to deploy in what turned out to be his last space mission.

"I'm fine," Hood said in reply.

"I withdrew my resignation." While Turner translated, Orlov turned on the lamp beside the chair and sat down. He picked up a pen and pad he kept on the small end table.

"Good, good!" Orlov said.

"Listen, General," Hood went on, "I'm very sorry to be calling you so early and at home."

"It's no bother, Paul," Orlov replied.

"What can I do for you?"

"The terrorist who calls himself the Harpooner," Hood said.

"You and I once spoke about him."

"I remember," said Orlov.

"We've been looking for him in connection with the terror bombings in Moscow several years ago."

"General, we believe he is in Azerbaijan." Orlov's full lips tightened.

"That would not surprise me," he said.

"We thought we had him located in Moscow two days ago. A guard near Lenin's Tomb was very confident in his identification. He summoned police assistance, but by the time it had arrived, the suspect had disappeared."

"Do you mean the police lost him, or the suspect knew he was being watched and managed to get away?" Hood asked.