KURBSKY HAD FOUND Bounine in the Volvo outside the Pierre to bring him up to speed. He smoked a cigarette. Bounine said, “So far, so good. It’s worked. She must be quite a lady.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“So, if they take the bait, we have Paris to look forward to. Colonel Luzhkov will be pleased.”

“Only because he wants to please Putin, and if Paris works, you mustn’t be a part of it, Yuri. No one should know who you are. Luzhkov will work out something for you. Cultural attaché, for instance, would do you very well. Someone I can trust personally when I’m in London.”

“I’m glad you still do,” Bounine said.

“It’s been a long time, Yuri. You’re the only GRU man I know who looks like an accountant. No one would ever dream you were in Afghanistan and Chechnya in the paratroopers.”

“Whereas you, old friend, look like they found you in central casting. The smiler with the knife, they used to call you from that first year, remember?”

“Quite right.” Kurbsky got out and turned, holding the door. “I also write good books.”

“Great books.” Bounine smiled. “One thing is certain: Putin will be happy the way things have gone.”

“Putin has many reasons to be happy with the way things are going these days,” Kurbsky said. “Night, Yuri.” He closed the door and went back into the hotel.

MOSCOW / LONDON

2

It had all started three weeks before, with Colonel Boris Luzhkov, Head of Station for the GRU at the Embassy of the Russian Federation in London. The summons to Moscow had come from Putin himself and could not be denied, although it had surprised Luzhkov that it had come from him and not from General Ivan Volkov of the GRU, Putin’s security adviser.

The reason became clear when he was driven to Berkley Down outside London and found a Falcon jet waiting to fly him to Moscow, a luxury that should have warned him to expect the worst.