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of surprise appeared in Windslow’s eyes.
    “I’m not opening any doors. Our disagreement has nothing to do with this, nothing. Don’t try to go there.”
    “How about Ivan Petrov?” Storm asked. “Could he have something to do with your stepson’s kidnapping?”
    The Russian was one of the names that Storm had come across during his late night probe on the intelligence network. Petrov was an oligarch who the CIA was monitoring. He’d recently had several dealings with Windslow, according to CIA INTEL bulletins.
    The mention of Petrov’s name sparked an instant reaction that Storm hadn’t expected.
    Windslow sprung from his seat toward the chair where Storm was sitting. Towering over him, the senator said, “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong now. Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you come into my house and accuse me of taking bribes! How dare you accuse my wife of being in cahoots with the kidnappers! How dare you ask about private intelligence matters between Jones and me! Why did you mention Ivan Petrov just now? Did Jedidiah put you up to that? Is that why he brought you in—to investigate Petrov and me?”
    Windslow hesitated for a second, clearly thinking about his next step. Still fuming, he said, “Listen, son, all I need to know from you right now is whether you’re in this thing tonight or you’re out. I can arrange for Toppers to get the six million from the bank. But I’m going to need time to find someone else to drive her around if you back out. Are you in this thing or not?”
    “What about Agent Showers and the Bureau?” Storm asked.
    “I’ve already answered that. No FBI. Period.”
    “Even if Agent Showers and the Bureau are your best shot at saving Matthew Dull’s life?”
    Windslow’s face was now turning red with both frustration and anger. “You’re supposed to be my best shot. But, so far, all you’ve done is flap your jaws and question my integrity. I’ve destroyed men much more powerful than you are. I crushed them like bugs under my boot heel. If you want out of this, then get the hell out of my house and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under. But you’ll keep your damn mouth shut about the six million—if you know what’s good for you. Either way, I need to know if you are in or out.”
    Storm rose from his seat and stood directly in front of Windslow’s age-lined face. “Don’t threaten me, Senator,” he said calmly. “The last guy who did didn’t survive his 'heart attack.’”
    For a moment, neither flinched, and then Windslow broke into an odd smile. “Fair enough,” he said. “In Texas, we admire a man who stands his mud. But while the two of us are having this little pissing contest, time is wasting.”
    Common sense told Storm to walk away. The kidnappers had an inside source. The fact that they wanted him to drive tonight was suspicious. Was he being set up? Ever since Tangiers, Storm had trusted Jones completely. He still did. But was it possible that Senator Windslow was right about the CIA’s involvement? People were expendable. Storm had learned that early on. And that applied to him, too. For the good of the country, he could be sacrificed.
    From the beginning, Storm had been curious about why Jedidiah had brought him back to help solve a kidnapping. There had to be more involved here. Jedidiah had admitted that to his face. But what was being hidden in the shadows? What was the game that he was being drawn deeper into?
    During his overnight Internet investigation, Storm had learned about Ivan Petrov. The Russian was another suspect that he’d added to the long list of suspects identified by Agent Showers. She had told him that the senator and Jedidiah were involved in a nasty dispute about a covert operation. Windslow had reacted violently when questioned about that operation and about Petrov. Showers had mentioned a six-million-dollar bribe from a foreigner. The kidnappers were demanding a