"Still, we must try."
"How will it be transferred?" Antonov asked.
"One of Madame Bougainville's ships is already docked at Odessa, waiting to load the gold on board."
"Then we'll do what she least expects."
"Which is?" Polevoi asked expectantly.
'Ve hold up our end of the bargain," said Antonov slowly.
"You mean pay?" Polevoi asked incredulously.
"Down to the last troy ounce."
Polevoi was stunned. "I'm sorry, Comrade President, but it was my understanding-"
"I've changed my mind," Antonov said sharply. "I have a better solution."
Polevoi waited several moments in silence, but it was apparent Antonov wasn't going to confine in him. He slowly dropped back, finally coming to a halt.
Surrounded by his entourage, Antonov kept walking, his mind rapidly altering course and dwelling on other matters of state concern.
Suvorov pressed the switch to his night-light and checked the time on his watch. It read 4:04. Not too bad, he thought. He had programmed his mind to awaken at four in the morning and he'd only missed by four minutes.
Unable to suppress a yawn, he quickly pulled on a shirt and pair of pants, not bothering with socks or shoes. Stepping into the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water, then moved across the small bedroom and cracked the door.
The brightly lit corridor was empty. Except for two psychologists monitoring the subjects, everyone else was asleep. As he walked the carpet in his bare feet, he began measuring the interior dimensions of the facilities and jotting them down in the notebook.
Between the four outer walls he arrived at 168 feet in length by 33 feet in winth. The ceiling was nearly ten feet high.
He came to the door of the medical supply room and gently eased open the door. It was never locked, because Lugovoy saw no reason for anyone to steal anything. He stepped inside, closed the door and turned on the light. Moving swiftly, Suvorov found the small bottles containing sedative solutions. He set them in a row on the sink and sucked out their contents with a syringe, emptying the fluin down the drain. Then he refilled the bottles with water and neatly rearranged them on the shelf.
He returned unseen to his sleeping quarters and slipped into bed once again and stared at the ceiling.
He was pleased with himself. His moves had gone undetected with no sign of the slightest suspicion. Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment.
IT WAS A SHADOWY DREAM. The kind he could never remember when he woke up. He was searching for someone in the bowels of a deserted ship. Dust and gloom obscured his vision. Like the dive on the Eagle: green river algae and russet silt.
His quarry drifted in front of him, blurred, always beyond reach.
He hesitated and tried to focus through the gloom, but the form taunted him, beckoning him closer.
Then a high-pitched ringing sound went off in his ear and he floated out of the dream and groped for the telephone.
"Dirk?",came a cheery voice from a throat he wanted to throttle.
" Yes.
"Got some news for you."
"Huh?"
"You asleep? This is St. Julien."
"Perlmutter?"
"Wake up. I found something."