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years.”
    “We have a spy in the FBI?”
    “No, in Langley. One of our best recruits has resurfaced after four years. We’d thought we’d lost him because he stopped all communication with us and disappeared. But now he is back and is helping us again. He sent word early this morning that the CIA is forming a team to go after the gold. The CIA is forming this team because the female FBI agent—April Showers—told them where the gold is located. She must have been conscious in the car when Lebedev interrogated Petrov. That is why we have kidnapped her.”
    Barkovsky let loose a stream of expletives. “We warned the Americans to stay away from my gold, but Mr. Jedidiah Jones thinks he can defy me and get away with it.”
    “Mr. President, even if the FBI agent doesn’t tell us where the gold is located, we will still be able to find it because our friend—our mole—is on the team that Jones has selected to locate your gold. Without realizing it, Jones will be leading us to your gold.”
    Barkovsky broke into a menacing grin. “We have both the female FBI agent and a CIA mole.” He hesitated and then asked, “But is this spy of ours reliable? How do you know this isn’ta provocation by Jones? One of his many CIA tricks—especially if this spy has been silent for years and only now has resurfaced?”
    “It’s true, our friend vanished four years ago,” Sokolov said. “But before that, the information he gave us was one hundred percent reliable. In one of the last communications, he warned us about an operation in Tangiers. We were able to use his information to foil the CIA’s plans. Americans were killed and Jones’s operation was a complete failure.”
    “We can use our mole to corroborate the information we get out of the FBI agent, and vice versa,” Barkovsky said. “This is brilliant!”
    “Yes, but first we must get April Showers out of England. We can’t afford any more mistakes. Where should we send her to be interrogated?”
    “Take her to wherever this CIA team goes. Do it there.”
    “For what purpose, may I ask?” Sokolov said.
    “I want Jedidiah Jones to know when they recover her body that she was executed because of his decision to go after my gold.”
    “We embarrassed him in Tangiers,” Sokolov said. “We will do it again.”
    “I do not want the FBI agent or members of the CIA team killed until we have my gold. No mistakes this time. Once I get my gold, then I want them all dead. I want to send this arrogant Jedidiah Jones a message.”
    “Everyone but our friend, the mole, of course,” Sokolov said.
    “No, kill him, too,” Barkovsky said. “There is only one reason a spy betrays his own country. There is no romance, no mystery. It is always for the money. And a man who can be bought is not a man who can be trusted. After we have the gold, he is expendable.”
    “But he might be useful later,” Sokolov protested.
    “Jones is too smart for that. If only one person survives and escapes, he will know that person is a traitor. Why else would he be alive?”
    “Then we will kill all of them and the FBI agent, too. This time she will not escape.”
    “I do not want any witnesses. No survivors. I want to piss on Mr. Jedidiah Jones, and I want him to know that I am doing it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A military flight delivered Storm to a U.S. base in Germany, where he boarded a privately owned aircraft chartered by the CIA. It took him to an airfield in Kazakhstan. Although the Kazakhstan government denied that it allowed U.S. flights to operate within its borders, a backroom deal had been cut to allow the CIA to use specific airstrips for its covert operations in return for U.S. foreign aid, and this was one of those operations.
    Storm found a late model Range Rover waiting at the Kazakhstan airfield, with a woman standing next to it. From the photograph that Jones had shown him, he knew it was Dilya.
    “Welcome to Kazakhstan,” she said, extending her hand. Storm estimated she