Day of Wrath

Thorn stiffened and swung around toward the short, balding man who’d come around a corner behind them. He’d taken just about enough crap from the U.S. State Department for one day … Helen laid a cautionary hand on his arm. She tried smiling and almost made it. “Hello, Charlie.”

The newcomer looked ready to embrace Helen, but he settled for pumping her hand. “Christ, Helen! I’m sure glad to see you alive and well.

When we heard about that business in Pechenga, we were all horrified.”

He turned to Thorn and extended his hand. “And you’re Peter Thorn.

I’m Charlie Spiegel. I work here at the embassy.”

Helen explained. “Charlie and I worked together on a couple of cases.

I can’t tell you who he works for, but he’s good at his job.” The implication was obvious: Charlie Spiegel worked for the CIA.

“She’s too kind, Colonel,” Spiegel said. He flashed a quick grin.

“Mostly I just sit around and file reports claiming credit for whatever paydirt Helen digs up.”

“But not this time,” Thorn said quietly.

Spiegel’s grin faded. “No, not this time.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Man, I’m afraid you two have taken one hell of a long walk off a short pier. I hate to say it, but I think the ambassador’s right to get you out of Russia before anything else hits the fan — and the quicker the better.”

He saw the surprise on Thorn’s face and shrugged. “Helen said I was good, and it’s my job to keep plugged in. Look, why don’t you come to my office? While His Nibs in there gave you the forty lashes with a wet tongue, I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground. There are some new developments I think you should know about.”

The CIA agent’s office was on the floor above Helen’s, and it was just as cramped and a lot messier. Books, periodicals, and printouts cluttered Spiegel’s battered desk, every shelf, and much of the floor space.

Thorn shook his head wryly as he and Helen cleared stacks of reference works off chairs so they could sit down. This guy seemed to live on paper.

Spiegel didn’t wait for them to get settled. He flopped into his own swivel chair and started explaining. “First, I don’t think you folks fully understand the flap your gun battle in Pechenga has created.

You’re both front-page news here. Hell, Clifford’s people had to do some pretty fast footwork to keep the media away from you. That was part of the reason for that little covert handoff out at Sheremetevo Airport.”

Thorn considered that grimly. The only thing worse than sitting in MVD custody would have been getting caught by a mob of eager-beaver reporters and cameramen. Everything in his nature and his Delta Force training taught him the importance of staying out of the glare of TV lights.

“The fortyeight hours you’ve been given isn’t just to let you pack, it’s mostly to give the story time to cool off,” Spiegel said confidentially. He lowered his voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the embassy is even making sure you don’t arrive home at a commercial airport. You’ll take a regular flight to Germany, but then they’re transferring you to a military passenger flight to Andrews Air Force Base.”

“Arriving in the dead of the night, I suppose?” Helen asked bitterly.

“You got it,” Spiegel confirmed. “And I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you’re listed on the manifest as PFCS John and Jane Doe.

The last thing anyone wants is more news coverage.”

Thorn nodded. He agreed with the precautions the State Department was taking on that score, if on no other.

“What about our work, Charlie?” Helen asked. “Can you or your people dig any further? I don’t want this investigation to fall through the cracks once they’ve shipped us off. We’ve paid too high a price to let it go so easily.”

Spiegel looked blank. “Jesus, Helen. That’s gonna be a problem.

I mean, the word’s come down from on high: Steer clear of the Kandalaksha mess. It’s a Russian-only situation. If my people start asking too many questions, I’m going to trip all kinds of alarm bells all over the damn place — both here and in D.C.”

Then he shrugged. “Besides, with this Grushtin character dead and that freighter a bust, I wouldn’t really know where to start looking. Seems to me you’ve run this thing into a dead-end no pun intended.”

Thorn frowned. He wasn’t going to let this guy off the hook so easily.

He claimed he was a friend of Helen’s. Well, let him prove it. He shook his head. “Not true. We know one of the people who set us up.

Have somebody put the squeeze on Colonel General Feodor Serov. That son of a bitch knows a hell of a lot more than he told us.”

Spiegel sighed. “That’s one of the new developments I mentioned.

Somebody took out both Serov and his wife yesterday-probably very early in the A.M. Whoever did it was a pro. The wife took one bullet to the brain. Serov went a little harder.

Somebody pumped him so full of heroin that the stuff was practically pouring out his eye sockets.”