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Pogodin was standing right beside Volko, looking down at him. "Commendable. Most people in your position screech like birds. Perhaps you don't know of our reputation for obtaining information?"

"I know," Volko said.

Pogodin regarded him for a moment. He looked as though he was trying to decide whether Volko was brave or stupid. "Would you care for a cigarette?"

The waiter shook his head.

"Would you care to save your life and repay some of the debt you owe to your country?"

Volko looked up at his youthful captor.

"I see that you would," Pogodin said. He used his cigarette to point to the men behind him. "Shall I send them away so we can talk?"

Volko thought for a moment, then nodded.

Pogodin told them to go and they shut the door behind them as they left. The young man walked around Volko to the table and perched on the edge.

"You were expecting somewhat different treatment, weren't you?" Pogodin asked.

"When?" Volko said. "Today, or when I returned from Afghanistan with a broken back and a pension that wouldn't support a dog?"

"Ah, bitterness," Pogodin said. "A greater motivator than anger because it doesn't pass. So you betrayed Russia because your pension was too small?"

"No," Volko said. "Because I felt betrayed. I was in pain every moment I worked, every time I stood."

Pogodin poked his chest with a thumb. "And I'm in pain each day I think of my grandfather being crushed by a tank in Stalingrad, or my two elder brothers killed by snipers in Afghanistan-- and men like you betraying what they died for because you felt uncomfortable. Is that all the affection you can muster for Russia?"

Volko looked straight ahead. "A man has to eat, and in order to eat he must work. I would have been fired from the hotel if the Englishman hadn't insisted they keep me. He spent a great deal of money there."

Pogodin shook his head. "I should tell my superiors at the Ministry of Security that you are unapologetic and would sell your country again for a price."

"That wasn't what I wanted," Volko said. "It never was, and it isn't now."

"No," said Pogodin, drawing on his cigarette, "because now your friends are dead and you're facing death." He leaned toward the waiter, blowing smoke from both nostrils. "Here's how it can be different, Andrei Volko. Why were you heading to St. Petersburg?"

"To meet someone. I didn't know that he was already dead."

Pogodin slapped the waiter hard across the cheek. "You weren't going to meet the Englishman or the Russian. You wouldn't have been told who the latter was, and besides-- they were already dead and DI6 knew it. When the spetsnaz officer tried to use their concealed telephones, the lines were inactive. He was too impatient. You have an ID to enter first, correct?"

Volko remained silent.

"Of course, correct," Pogodin said. "So you were headed to St. Petersburg to meet someone else. Who?"

Volko continued to stare ahead, his terror supplanted by shame. He knew what was coming, what Pogodin had in mind, and he knew he would have a terrible choice to make.

"I don't know," Volko said. "I was--"

"Go on."

Volko took a long, tremulous breath. "I was to go there, contact London, and await further instructions."

"Were they going to try and get you into Finland?" Pogodin asked.

"That-- was my impression," Volko said.

Pogodin smoked while he thought, then rose and looked down at the waiter. "I'll be frank, Andrei. The only way you can save yourself is to help us learn more about the British operation. Are you willing to go to St. Petersburg as planned and work with us instead of with the enemy?"

"Willing?" Volko said. "In a relationship that began with a gun at my neck?"

Pogodin said coldly, "And it will end with one there if you don't cooperate."

Volko looked into the tester of smoke hanging under the lights. He tried to tell himself that he would be acting patriotically, but he knew that wasn't the case. He was just afraid.

"Yes," Volko said sullenly. "I'll go to St. Petersburg"--