"But then it was rediscovered…"

Kirov nodded. "Then everything changed. I was skeptical that there was really any hidden treasure map, but I knew the mere possibility would draw the players out of the woodwork. I'd been looking for them for years, and this was finally my chance."

"Who are the players?"

"Pavski and his committee of vultures who killed the officers and crew of the Silent Thunder." His lips twisted. "I won't give you all the names. It would be a waste of time. Most of them are dead."

"I'm sure you've seen to that. How many are left?"

"Just one, but he's the central figure, Igor Pavski. He thinks he's indomitable. He almost proved it. He was well on his way to putting himself beyond my reach."

She remembered something Bradworth had said. "You went to Bradworth and offered him information that would bring Pavski down. The deaths on the Silent Thunder?"

"Yes. Bradworth arranged for rumors to flood Moscow that caused Pavski's position to become too dangerous. He knew that if the full story was known, he'd be put before a firing squad. So he disappeared from view."

"And surfaced here."

"He'll do anything to get the cradle. He'd walk on the edge of hell for a chance at it. He's still well connected, and there are certainly an abundance of unemployed KGB and shore patrol officers who would gladly join him for a tiny sliver of that fortune."

"And kill Conner and me without a second thought." Her hands tightened on the cup. "Pavski did do it."

"You believe me?"

"Yes," she said unevenly. "I believe you. I don't think even you would have been able to concoct such an ugly, depressing story."

"You would have had to live through it to realize just how ugly it was."

"How many crewmen were on board the sub?"

"One hundred and four," Kirov said. "Ninety-two were under thirty years of age."

"Terrible," she whispered. "I can see how you'd want to make Pavski pay for their deaths."

"And your Conner means as much or more to you than those men do to me. I'm not downplaying your loss. A hundred men or a single loved individual, the pain can be the same."

"Yes, it can." She paused. "You said Pavski had an obsession about the cradle from childhood? Why?"

"He thinks the cradle was meant to herald his rise to glory. He believes he needs to reclaim it to reach his destiny."

"He believes the legend? Why?"

"Pavski is half-Russian, half-Czech. His mother belonged to a noble family and married into a family whose castle was located on the Vitava River. She claimed to be a descendent of the princess who threw the cradle into the river. I don't know if she was nuts or just trying to raise her social status among her peers, but she raised Pavski to think he had a special destiny. When he rose to power in the fleet, it confirmed that belief. All he needed was the cradle, and he could rule the world."

"Christ."

"And when he was forced to disappear from Moscow after the loss of the cradle, and rumors of his actions began to be circulated, it reinforced that belief. It seemed proof to him that he had to have it to succeed."

"It's crazy."

"No one said he was particularly stable." His lips tightened. "It takes a special madness to kill over a hundred men." He poured another cup of coffee. "Now, unless you have more questions for me, I think we should not discuss this any longer. It's better if I don't dwell on that time. I have a tendency to lose perspective and go a little berserk."

"One would never guess it. You're one of the coolest men I've ever met."

He shook his head. "Training," he added lightly. "Inside I'm a veritable seething volcano. Ask Bradworth."

"I make my own judgments."

He studied her expression. "And at the moment that judgment is leaning a little in my direction." He smiled. "Then suppose you make another judgment about what topping you want on your pizza. I'm about to call Domino's for dinner."

"I'm not very hungry."

"Neither am I. We're both emotionally strung-out, but we need to eat." He leaned back in his chair. "I'll hold off calling for another hour. And while we're waiting, we'll veer away and talk about pleasanter subjects."

"For instance?"

"You tell me about your Titanic expedition. I've read about it, but I want to hear your own version. There are always stories that never come to light."

"And what are you going to tell me?"

He thought about it. "I'll tell you about my wicked doings at the naval academy. It's much more amusing than my training on board the sub. I was kept firmly under control there."

"I can believe that. My impression of your captain is that he was strictly no-nonsense."

He tilted his head. "You say that almost with affection."

"I liked what I read about him. I liked his taste in books and music." Her smile faded. "Conner said I had a father fixation on him."

"Really? Actually, part of me was also drawn to that side of Sergai. Perhaps he was the man I wanted to be." He shook his head. "Though I would never have admitted it to him."

"And now it's too late."

"Yes." He shrugged. "Enough of this brooding. Talk to me about your expedition. Tell me about your submersible."

"Some people would say the Titanic wasn't exactly the most cheerful subject."

"I don't want to hear about a doomed ship. I want to hear about you. What you did, what you are. Tell me."

And she wanted to hear about him, she suddenly realized. What he had told her about the events that had led him here had only revealed the tip of the iceberg. Kirov had lived a life that was foreign to her, and yet his love of the sea and his ship struck an answering note within her. She wanted to stay here under the stars in this quiet place and think of something besides Pavski and the horror he had brought.

She lifted the cup to her lips. "When they contacted me and told me they needed me to design the submersible, I was over the moon. I'd been following the progress of the different expeditions, and I already had an idea about…"

How cozy you are." Eugenia smiled as she came through the courtyard doorway. "Forgive me for not ringing the bell. I wasn't going to wake you if you'd already gone to bed." She plopped down in a chair. "Pizza!" She took a piece and leaned back with a sigh. "I forgot to eat dinner. You kept me too busy, Kirov."

"Evidently not busy enough if you were going to let us sleep."

"I put out feelers. No answers yet." She nibbled at the pizza. "I decided I needed a break and I wanted to be among friends for a while. It's a rare pleasure."

"Bull. You have thousands of friends, Eugenia."

She made a face. "But very few who know and accept me for what I am." She shrugged. "And what I was. We're a pretty exclusive club, Kirov." She turned to Hannah. "And I think we could be friends. I've been reading up on you. You're a woman like me. We both take charge."

"You're right there," Kirov said.

"Hush," Eugenia said. "I'm talking to Hannah. In fact, this pizza is cold. Go heat it up for me."

"You want to get rid of me?"

Eugenia smiled. "You've got it, cha-cha."

He looked at Hannah.

"We wouldn't want her to eat cold pizza," Hannah said.

He took the plate. "Ten minutes."

"He'll be back in exactly ten minutes," Eugenia said. "It's that military mind-set."

"You seem to know him very well."

"Yes, as well as anyone can know him. When you've gone through what he has, it tends to make a person develop a shell." She grinned. "But I just light a fire under him and, poof, it goes up in flame."

"Fire? Are you lovers?"

"No. Though I've thought about it occasionally. He's a very sexy man."

"I didn't notice."

Eugenia gave her a skeptical glance. "You noticed. I'd judge that you're not one of those women who like pretty boys."