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“What do you mean, Anatoli Grishin?”

“The key to counter-intelligence, Mr. President, is knowledge of the enemy’s intentions. This we now have. From that stems prevention. It is already taking place. In a few days, there will be no selected candidate for the throne of All the Russias. Now we have a second revelation of their intentions. Once again I must propose both prevention and retribution, all in one.”

“All four men?”

“There can be no choice.”

“Nothing must be traced back. Not yet. It is too early for that.”

“Nothing will be traced back. The banker? How many bankers have been killed in the past ten years? Fifty? At least. Armed and masked men, a settlement of accounts. It happens all the time.

“The policeman? The Dolgoruki gang will be happy to take the contract. How many cops have been wasted? Again, it happens all the time.

“As for the fool of a general, a burglary that went wrong. Nothing could be more common. And for the priest, a house servant caught ransacking his study during the night. Shot down by the Cossack guard, who in turn is killed by the thief as he dies.”

“Will anyone believe that?”

“I have a source inside the residence who will swear to it.”

Komarov looked at the papers he had finished reading and the tape beside them. He smiled thinly.

“Of course you do. I need to know no more about all this. I insist I know nothing more of all this.”

“But you do wish the four men bent upon your destruction to cease to function?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. That is all I need to know.”

¯

THE room at the Spartak Hotel had been booked in the name of Mr. Kuzichkin, and a man of that name had indeed checked in. Having done so he then walked out again, slipping his room key to Jason Monk as he did so. The Chechen guards filtered through the lobby, the stairwell, and the access to the elevators as he went upstairs. It was as safe a way as any of having twenty minutes on a telephone which, if traced, would reveal only a room in a non-Chechen-owned hotel far from the center of town.

“General Petrovsky?”

“You again.”

“You seem to have stirred up a hornet’s nest.”

“I don’t know where you get your information from, American, but it seems to be good.”

“Thank you. But Komarov and Grishin will not take this lying down.”

“What about the Dolgoruki?”

“Bit players. The key danger is Grishin and his Black Guards.”

“Was it you who put out the rumor that the source was a senior officer in the Black Guard?”

“Friends of mine.”

“Smart. But dangerous.”

“The weak point for Grishin lies in those papers you captured. I think they prove the mafia has been funding Komarov all along.”

“They are being worked on.”

“So are you, General.”