Bradworth ruefully shook his head. Dammit, he would have preferred to have someone a hell of a lot less sharp, but he'd been forced to accept her. He just hoped he could get her through this and-

His phone rang, and he picked up. "Bradworth."

"Is she there?"

He tensed. "Dammit, Kirov, I told you I'd call you after I spoke to her. Stop pressuring me."

"Is she there?"

"She's walking down the street toward me right now."

"She took her time. They were down at the pier looking at the sub an hour ago."

"And you were there watching her. I told you to stay away from that damn sub, Kirov."

"And I told you to go to hell. I'll do what I please." He paused. "I wasn't the only one watching her. There was a small yacht cruising around the bay, and I saw the man on the bridge was using highpowered video binoculars."

"Could have been nothing. A five-hundred-and-fifty-foot Russian submarine is definitely a curiosity in these waters."

"And it could have been Pavski. We'll assume it was until proven otherwise."

Annoyance seared through him. Arrogant bastard. Call him on it? He hesitated. Oh, what the hell. He was tired of pussyfooting around with Kirov. He had to prove to the son of a bitch that he wasn't to be intimidated. "You're sure you're not using Pavski as an excuse?"

Silence. "I beg your pardon?"

The words were spoken softly, but Bradworth felt a chill go down his spine. He smothered it and kept his voice as low and hard as Kirov's. "I've gone to a good deal of trouble to set this up, and I'd be very annoyed if I found out that you have another agenda other than our mutually agreed objective."

"Really? And what would you do?"

"You're not irreplaceable. We created you. We can destroy you."

"Indeed? Try." Kirov's voice was still soft, but the inflection had become icy. "And you didn't create me. I'm my own creation. I started as a skeleton with nothing inside but hate, and I infused that corpse with blood and guts."