"True. And I enjoyed every second of it. But I don't have to be sure. My sources told me that Pavski was finding Jennings a liability. The minute Jennings caught on that he was going to be a target, he would have disappeared from the scene. I couldn't risk that."

"We don't agree with your sources. Maybe he would have told us where to find Pavski."

"Jennings was too low on the totem pole to have direct access to him. You would have drawn a blank."

"You have an answer to everything."

"I don't have all the answers, but I do have instincts. These days my instincts are very sharp where Pavski is concerned. I'm done arguing with you about this, Bradworth. Call me if I'm wrong about Hannah Bryson, and she wants to delay starting work. I'll see if I can do something to nudge her."

"No! Stay away from her, dammit."

"Then persuade her." He hung up the phone.

Christ, he was actually sweating, Bradworth realized as he pressed the disconnect. Cold sweat. He took a deep breath. Stupid that Kirov had this effect on him. He wasn't without courage, as his record proved. And stupid that he'd forced himself to try to overcome it by confronting the bastard. He should have been more diplomatic and noncommittal.

And Kirov would have seen right through him anyway. Forget it. Forget him. Hannah Bryson had opened the garden gate, and she and her brother were starting up the walk toward the porch. He got to his feet and smiled warmly as he went down the steps toward her. "Good to see you, Ms. Bryson. This is going to be a pleasant job for you. You'll like this inn. It has so many windows facing the sea, it's like cruising on a yacht. I've been sitting here rocking and daydreaming. It's like being in another century…"

Bradworth had surprised him, Kirov thought as he tucked his phone in his jacket pocket and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the pier where the Silent Thunder was moored. Bradworth was an old-time company man with all the accompanying baggage. He'd tried to convert to the modern mind-set, but he was still stuck in the rut he'd formed when he'd been trained as a young agent. Threats, control, and the American way.

Not that Kirov thought that agenda couldn't be effective. To control and use authority had been bred in him since he was a boy. It was just that adaptation was the key to survival and success, and he would succeed.

Would he have to take out Bradworth? The man was afraid of him, and although he'd used that fear on occasion to get his own way, fear could be dangerous.

Maybe, but not yet. He needed him to guide Hannah Bryson to do what he wanted her to do.

He glanced at the horizon. The yacht was gone, and no other craft seemed to be circling like a buzzard. Yes, the term was apt, he thought grimly. Pavski was a buzzard trying to eat the bones of the sub lying defenseless and stripped of power.

But why?

He had a good idea, but he'd find out. It was only a matter of time.

But he might not have the time. Pavski moved fast, and he'd regard this period as an opportunity. Hannah Bryson had to start work immediately and get one step ahead of him.

Or stand in his way. Either action might be beneficial for Kirov. Not so beneficial for Hannah Bryson. Pavski's usual method of removing obstacles was to destroy them.

Too bad. He liked what he'd heard about the woman. He hoped he could get to Pavski before he killed her.

In the meantime he'd guard that lovely lady lying in the water at the pier. They'd removed Silent Thunder's weapons, but she was still beautiful and powerful and stirring to the senses. He sat down and crossed his legs, his gaze on the sleek hull.

"Come and get her, Pavski. Make your play," he whispered. "I'm waiting."

"You'll start right away?" Bradworth asked. "I'm sorry to push you, Ms. Bryson, but the museum is eager to start publicity rolling, and they can't do it until you inspect every inch of that sub, draw up your plans, and supervise the modifications that will make it safe for tourists to move through."

"I'm as eager to get started as they are to have me," Hannah said. "I need to wrap this job up in a few weeks." She glanced teasingly at her brother. "Conner's marriage depends on it."

Conner nodded solemnly. "That's true. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Hannah has another job waiting in the wings."

"Oh, that's right. She mentioned that lost underwater city." Bradworth frowned. "But you're not going to sail off before the job's done? I'll need your promise."

Lord, the man was solemn, Hannah thought. And not the most charismatic person she'd ever met. She was glad that she wouldn't be working directly with him. "I don't go back on my word. The museum will get its schematic and report. When can I get access to the sub?"

"Tomorrow. I'll have someone from the naval team who brought it here meet you at the pier at nine."

"Seven."

He smiled. "Seven."

"And isn't it pretty odd not having guards around the sub? The local kids would find it pretty irresistible. Conner and I had no trouble approaching it this afternoon."

"There are guards. You were watched from the time you parked your van on the pier. We're keeping a very low profile with the townspeople. I told my men you'd probably be stopping by and not to interfere with you. The gate that bars the harbor is enough to keep most people out, and the museum asked us to be discreet. They don't want anyone getting in the way of your job or the cleanup. And the less talk about the sub, the better until they can start the publicity." He got up from the chair. "Now may I escort you into dinner? This inn is famous for its great food."

"I'll take your word for it." She glanced at Conner. "I'm going back to the pier. Want to come with me?"

He shook his head. "Dinner and then a call home to Cathy sound a lot better to me than staring at a sub you can't even board yet."

"I can examine the exterior a little more closely. We didn't take much time."

"You have photos."

"I'm going." She turned to Bradworth. "I suppose I'll see you in the morning?"

He hesitated. "I could go with you, and we could have dinner at a restaurant on the dock."

She had no desire to be social right now and certainly not with a government bureaucrat. "That's okay, I'm not hungry." She started down the steps. "And there's no use your going along. I'm not intending to do anything but look at the sub and compare it to my notes." She stopped and turned back. "By the way, do you have a copy of the reports on the crew you got from the Russians? I may want to contact them if I have any questions."

"Of course." He reached into his briefcase and handed her a large, bulky envelope. "Here's the history of Silent Thunder's journey from Finland. Videos and tapes that the museum intends to use in its presentation." He handed her a folder. "And here's the personnel file. But I'm afraid it won't help you much. Captain Vladzar died three years ago and his first mate, Valentin Gregor, is in Chechnya working with the rebels. He's got his hands full just keeping one step ahead of Putin's security forces."

"There may be someone else who can tell me something." She slid the information into her denim satchel. "I don't need much technical info. I'm familiar with the Oscar II, but there are sometimes small variations in design. I just want a backup in case I run into something that I'm not-"

"I'd be glad to come with you and go over the reports. Perhaps I can shed some light on-" He stopped as he saw her shaking her head. "No?"

"She wants to be alone with the sub," Conner said gravely, his lips twitching.

"What?" Bradworth asked blankly.

"She has an empathy with machines. No romanticism, but she's not as hardheaded as you might think. She has a sensitive side. Just ask her."