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"The subject went around a corner and was gone. He could have changed clothes somehow-I don't know. The Kievskaya metro stop is near where he was last seen. It is possible he went down there."

"It's more than possible," Hood said.

"That was where one of our embassy people spotted him."

"Explain, please," Orlov said.

"We had heard that he was in Moscow," Hood said.

"The embassy person followed the man he thought was the Harpooner onto the metro. They went to a transfer station, and the Harpooner got off.

He boarded another train, left it at the Paveletskaya stop, then he literally vanished." Orlov was now very interested.

"You're sure it was Paveletskaya?" he asked.

"Yes," Hood asked.

"Is that significant?"

"Perhaps," Orlov said.

"General Orlov," Hood said, "however the Harpooner left Moscow, it's possible that he may be headed back there or toward Saint Petersburg. Do you think you could help us try and find him?"

"I would love to capture that monster," Orlov replied.

"I will contact Moscow and see what they have. In the meantime, please send whatever information you have to my office. I will be there within the hour."

"Thank you. General," Hood said.

"And again, I'm sorry to have wakened you. I didn't want to lose any time."

"You did the right thing," Orlov assured him.

"It was good speaking with you. I will talk to you later in the day."

Orlov rose and went back to the bedroom. He hung up the phone, kissed his precious, sleeping Masha on the forehead, then quietly went to the closet and removed his uniform. He carried it into the living room.

Then he went back for the rest of his clothes. He dressed quickly and quietly, then left his wife a note. After nearly thirty years, Masha was not unaccustomed to his comings and goings in the middle of the night. When he had been a fighter pilot, Orlov was often called for missions at odd hours. During his spacefaring years, it was common for him to suit up while it was still dark. Before his first orbital flight he had left her a note that read, "My dearest-I am leaving the earth for several days. Can you pick me up at the spaceport on Sunday morning? Your loving husband, Sergei. PS: I will try to catch you a shooting star." Of course, Masha was there. Orlov left the apartment and took the stairs to the basement garage. The government had finally given him a car after three years, since the buses were unreliable. And with everything that was going on in and around Russia, from restless republics to rampant gangsterism in major cities, it was often imperative for Orlov to be able to get to his Op-Center's headquarters.

And it was imperative now. The Harpooner was back in Russia.

Washington, D.C. Monday, 7:51 p.m.

Liz Gordon came to Hood's office after his conversation with Orlov. A husky woman with sparkling eyes and short, curly brown hair, Gordon was chewing nicotine gum and carrying her ever-present cup of coffee. Mike Rodgers remained for the talk. Hood told Gordon how the president had seemed during their meeting. Hood also gave the woman a brief overview of the possible covert activities that might explain what appeared to be the president's delusions. When Hood was finished, Gordon refilled her coffee cup from a pot in the corner of the office. Though Hood had been dubious of psychiatry when he had first come to Op-Center, Gordon's profiling work had impressed him. He had also been won over by her thoroughness. She brought a mathematician's prooflike manner to the process. That, coupled with her compassion, had made her an increasingly valuable and respected member of the team. Hood did not have any trouble entrusting his daughter to her.

"The president's behavior does not seem extreme," Gordon said, "so we can eliminate some very serious dementias, which would indicate a complete or near complete loss of intellectual capacity. That leaves us with dangerous but more elusive delusions, of which there are basically six kinds. First there's organic, which is brought on by illness such