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them by taking out New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, Excellency? A most persuasive ruse de guerre, non, mes amis?”
    The laughter in the room was explosive, but not everyone thought it was funny. Some of them privately thought it was a seriously good idea. Korsakov was not amused.
    “A most entertaining idea, General Gerimosov, but, as Napoleon once said, ‘There are but two powers in the world, the sword and the mind. In the long run, the sword is always beaten by the mind.’ And on that note, there being no further business until the president’s presentation later on, this meeting is adjourned.”
    “Volodya?” Korsakov said, speaking privately to the president via an earbud in Rostov’s ear.
    “Excellency?”
    “I desire a private word with you. I wonder if you might excuse yourself for a few minutes and join me in my office?”
    “Indeed. I’m on my way.”
    Rostov put his napkin to his lips, smiled at his colleagues, and slipped behind the curtain to see the wizard.
    “Yes, Excellency,” Rostov said to the silhouetted figure sitting in the shadows. He took his usual chair, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette.
    “There is a man who needs watching, Volodya.”
    “Who and where, Excellency?” Rostov replied.
    “An Englishman named Hawke. I have some history with his family. He recently moved from London to Bermuda. He has somehow become involved with my daughter, Anastasia. A romantic liaison, perhaps. Perhaps not. He would appear to be a private citizen, extraordinarily wealthy. But I’ve reason to believe he’s MI-6. Or perhaps just a freelance operative for hire.”
    “He needs watching or killing?”
    “Both. For now, just watch. Contact my private security force on Bermuda. A Mr. Samuel Coale on Nonsuch Island. The old American NASA downrange tracking base. He’ll know what to do. When it’s time for Hawke to go, I will inform you. Then I will want you to contact Mr. Strelnikov. Paddy Strelnikov. An American gun of mine. He’s the only one I would send up against this Englishman.”
    “He’s good, is he, this Brit?”
    “Perhaps the best. He has caused our comrades in Havana and Beijing no end of trouble. Also, I am worried about my darling Anastasia. My daughter has been…unhappy since the untimely death of her husband, Vanya. She seems quite taken with this Hawke. It is troubling. I don’t want him in our nest.”
    “Perhaps you should tell your daughter to steer clear of this man, Excellency. She is, after all, the soul of obedience.”
    “Perhaps. But for a time, maybe, he will make her happy. And besides, who knows what she might learn from this Englishman in the meantime, eh, Volodya?”
    Rostov nodded.
    “Where is Paddy Strelnikov now, Excellency?”
    “On assignment in America. Taking care of business.”

5
B ADLANDS , N ORTH D AKOTA
    T he road ahead looked like a frozen snake. Black and glistening in his headlights, slithering out there, disappearing into the distant snow-white hills. Paddy Strelnikov had his high beams on, but still, mostly all he could see was swirling snow. Wet stuff, soft blobs of it hitting his windshield. Splat. The wipers were working okay, but he still couldn’t see shit.
    He found the stalk of the left side of the wheel and put the dims back on. Yeah. That was better, less snow and more road.
    Strelnikov didn’t know from driving out in the middle of nowhere at night in the middle of a freaking blizzard. He was a Russian emigrant from Brooklyn, f’crissakes, where they had normal highways. The BQE, the Long Island Expressway, hell, even the Santa Monica Freeway out in L.A., et cetera, those he could handle. This road? North Dakota? Forget about it, brother. This was freaking Mars.
    He glanced at his chunky gold watch, saw what time it was, and accelerated, fishtailing a little. He watched the red needle climb past eighty, ninety. He hoped to hell this automobile had traction control. He thought they had a switch for that on these new cars, but