It was a short drive to the four-star hotel where the meeting was to be held, and Valika did not use the time to partake of the car’s bar. One of the guards opened the door, handing the searched case back to her.

“Room 114,” he informed her.

Valika slung the carrying case for the laptop over her shoulder and entered the hotel. Room 114 had a small plaque on the door informing her that it was the President’s Suite, which she found ironic given she was meeting a former high-ranking Communist.

The door swung open immediately at her first knock. Two more goons flanked the door on the inside. One pointed at an entrance to another room. Conversation had never been Kraskov’s strong point, Valika reflected as she walked through, and that must have seeped down to his security element.

The man who was sitting on the couch had once been described to Valika as a troll, but she thought that was a disservice to the mythical creature. He was short, fat, hairy, and ugly. And he had bad teeth, which Valika found unforgivable in a man with access to money. That at least could be corrected.

“My dear Valika, you are beautiful as ever.” His greeting was effusive, but he made no attempt to get his rotund form off the couch.

Valika went to the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “And you, Kraskov, look the same as I remember.”

“Ah, such wit. I missed that. If I remember rightly, the last time we saw each other, you were shooting at me.”

“Unfortunately I missed.” Valika unzipped the bag and took out the laptop.

“But if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be able to conduct our business this evening,” Kraskov said.

“There would be someone else in your chair.”

“But it is me here, Valika.”

The tone caused her to look up from turning the computer on. Kraskov had a gun pointed at her-a nine-millimeter Browning High Power, she noted, before she shifted her gaze back to his eyes.

“We are here to do business,” she said. “You know who I work for.”

“I know who you whore for.” The gun didn’t waver. “I am supposed to be afraid of some pimp drug dealer from a third-rate country?”

“Eight hundred million will be yours, as you asked.”

The gun moved slightly, Kraskov’s thick eyebrows bunching. “You joke. I gave you that number simply to not have to bother with you. I was amazed when you asked to meet.”

“Then what is the ship really worth?”

“Eight hundred million, of course.”

Valika smiled wryly. “I assume you have an account where you want the money transferred to.”

“You’re serious?” Kraskov put the gun away. “Of course there is an account. Swiss, naturally.”

Dalton walked past the tubes holding Kirtley’s team. “Keep them in until I give you the all clear,” he told Hammond.

“Orientation training will take about four hours anyway,” she said and turned back to her control console.

Jackson and Barnes were waiting for him just inside the vault door. As he approached, Jackson punched in the code and the door rolled open. She then hit the command to open the hangar door. The opening in the side of the mountain appeared as the metal grate slid out.

Dalton checked his watch. Five minutes.

“Let’s get the computer up here.”

The cell phone rang. Cesar flipped it open. “Yes?”

“We’re ready,” Valika informed him.

He shut the phone. “ Souris.” Cesar waited but there was no response from the woman in the deep chair. “ Souris!” he yelled.

Reluctantly he got up and went over to her. He hit the ESC key on her keyboard.

Her eyes flashed open. “You bastard!”

Cesar reached forward and grabbed her chin. “Remember who pays for all of this.”

“You’re ignorant,” Souris hissed.

Cesar pointed at the computer. “Activate Aura II and tell Raisor it’s time for him to earn our assistance.”

Raisor “saw” the field race over the harbor toward him. It struck like the wind hitting a glider’s wings. He felt the power, his virtual avatar gaining form and strength.

The data was also there in the wave, formed by the Aura computer. He accessed it. It wasn’t as good as Bright Gate, but enough for the task at hand.

He glided into the Bank of Grand Cayman, passing through the thick outer walls. He found what he was searching for with ease-the glow of a screensaver on the computer screen drawing him in.

It might be night on Grand Cayman, but the bank’s main computer never slept, as accounts were constantly being accessed from the entire world via secure Internet.

Raisor slid into the computer, a feat he had done before as a Psychic Warrior. He found the first of the names he’d been given and accessed the account, already having bypassed the need for a password, as he was part of the computer itself.

One hundred and thirty million was in the account.

Raisor sent the account on its way, using the information he had been given. Then he searched for the next name.

The numbers appeared on Valika’s screen. “The first deposit has been made. One hundred and thirty million. The rest will be there shortly.”

That was enough to get Kraskov off the couch. He came around and looked over her shoulder, standing much too close, his fetid breath on her neck.

“Let me check.” He waddled to a briefcase and took out a satellite Internet phone and began punching in numbers.

“The first transfer has been made,” Souris reported in a distracted, distant voice.

Cesar cut the tip off his cigar.

Raisor had been given six names. He reached eight hundred million by the third account. For the excess he switched the destination account, sending the money to Cesar’s own Swiss account. Until there was one hundred million left in the last account. That he sent to a different destination.

In all, he had cleared out 1.2 billion dollars. He had no idea who he had just stolen from, but he assumed they were people who would not go running to the authorities; not that there were any authorities to run to in Grand Cayman, which was why the accounts were there in the first place.

“I am impressed,” Kraskov said, closing the phone.

“Where is the ship?” Valika said.

“Not far. Off of the European Space Port at Kouro, monitoring launches.”

“Excellent.”

He handed her a sheet of paper. “The ship’s call sign. The command code word. The captain will do whatever you ask once you give him that code word.”

“Good.”

“What will you do with the crew?” Kraskov asked as he went back to the couch and sank down into the cushions.

“They’re like you, aren’t they? Several suitcases full of cash and they’ll work for us, won’t they?”

Kraskov nodded. “True.”

“Everything in Russia is for sale, isn’t it?”

“Just about.” He smiled, revealing misshapen and discolored teeth. “We are embracing capitalism wholeheartedly.”

“I left just in time. What about the other items?” Valika asked.

“I don’t understand why you asked-” Kraskov began but Valika cut him off.

“Don’t do any thinking. Where are they?”

Kraskov grunted something to one of the guards. The man left the room and was back in a minute with a large metal briefcase in each hand. He put them on the table. Valika flipped the lids open.

“This was difficult to come by,” Kraskov said. “My GRU contact raised his eyebrows at the request.”

“And you lowered them with cash.” Valika closed the lids, having confirmed the contents.

“I’ve reserved a room for you,” Kraskov said. “Right next door as a matter of fact. I could order from room service. They have some excellent wines, or I can order vodka if you still drink the swill.”

“I’m leaving.” Valika stood. She slung the laptop case over her shoulder and picked up the two cases.