"I'm interested." She forced herself to look away from him and bring her mind back to the subject at hand. "But it's hard to think of the cradle without thinking of all the death and pain it's caused. I'm sure your sub's crew and Conner were only the latest in a long history."

"You're probably right."

"But you don't make the connection?"

"Not once the first pain passed. Look at all the treasures we lust after. The Amber Rooms, the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant. They dazzle us and draw us like beacons. The cradle is incredibly beautiful, but it's an object. Most treasures are created by man and, therefore, coveted by man. Men are violent creatures and will grab what they covet. That's why treasures must be guarded."

"How philosophical."

"I'm a realist." He met her eyes. "If I was taught anything at all by the Golden Cradle, it was to hold on to what I value and not ever let go."

She felt heat surge through her. She looked down into the wine in her glass. "Providing you live long enough."

He laughed. "There is that. Ah, here comes our food. Do you want to discuss Dane over dinner or wait until later?"

"We'd better discuss him now. After dinner I have something to do."

His brows lifted. "Really? What?"

She smiled at the waitress as she set her salad before her. "I have to go shopping."

Good morning, pretty lady." The bartender smiled at Hannah as she stepped off the sand and took a seat at the long bamboo bar. It was 11:15 A.M., and she was TNT's only customer.

She adjusted the flower-print skirt and bikini top. She wasn't comfortable in this outfit, but it had definite male appeal, and distraction was the name of the game. "Good morning. Am I your first customer of the day?"

"Yep."

No trace of a Russian accent, she noticed. The man was good-looking and had a beautiful bronze tan and unruly golden hair. No different than a thousand other beach bums she'd known. "Maybe it's too early for a drink?"

"Wrong. If that was the case, I would've slept in." He poured himself a shot of Bacardi and downed it. "You're on the Florida coast, honey. It's always time for a drink."

She smiled. "Okay, you talked me into it. Start me with one of those shots."

"Now you're talking." He poured the Bacardi and pushed the glass over to her.

She swallowed the shot. "Is this your place?"

He nodded. "You like it?"

"Very much. My name is Hannah."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dane. Everyone around here calls me Great Dane." His eyes were twinkling as he saw her brows raise. "I know. I know. But believe me when I say that it's nothing I expect or encourage."

Dane Niler in the flesh. This smiling, attractive man might have built the bomb that almost killed her, she realized. "I like the name of your bar, Dane. TNT. How did you come up with it?"

"I like surprises."

"Nothing more surprising than a stick of dynamite going off, I guess."

"Well, if you want to be literal about it. But since I'm a pretentious son of a bitch, I happen to like metaphors. When people sit at my bar, I want them to blow up all their inhibitions, all their preconceived notions, and start from a new place. Take a vacation from themselves, you know?"

"Interesting. It sounds like something I need to do."

"Then you've come to the right place. What brings you to Panama City? You're not from here, are you?"

"It shows?"

"Afraid so."

"You're obviously a student of human nature. Why don't you tell me what I'm doing here?"

"Oh, I figure you're in town for a conference. You looked at the schedule, and this morning's sessions were a little on the dry side, so you decided to log a little beach time."

"Wow."

"Impressed?"

"Dane, you couldn't be more wrong."

He smiled. "Okay, so I'm a lousy student of human nature." He held up the Bacardi bottle. "Another?"

"Sure."

He poured her another shot. "Normally, I'd go right to the second possibility-you're tagging along with your husband, and he's the one here on a conference. He's in a Hyatt ballroom learning about new actuarial analysis techniques, and you're trying to find ways to fill your days."

"You don't think that's the case?"

"Nah. A woman like you doesn't tag along with anybody. People tag along with you." He smiled. "Am I getting warm?"

"Warmer." She glanced at a small black-and-white monitor behind Dane. It offered a view of the bar's parking lot, where a single car, a Nissan Z-98, was parked. Kirov crouched next to the car, working on the lock.

Dane chuckled. "Warmer, huh? Okay. How about this: It's been years since you've taken a vacation, and your company's human resources department insisted that you take off for a couple of weeks. But now that you're here, all you can do is think about work."

"That's depressing. You've got me totally pegged. And here I thought I was a unique and fascinating individual."

"We all get lucky sometimes." He shifted position, as if about to turn toward the monitor.

Hannah quickly leaned closer to him. "I'd say you're an excellent student of human nature, Dane. How does your wife manage you?"

He turned back toward her. "I'm not married. Life's too short for the ties that bind. There are too many gorgeous ladies that need my attention."

She shot a quick glance at the monitor. Kirov was in the car's front seat, rifling through the glove compartment.

"I'm sure you give it to them."

"Another drink?"

"Not yet."

He refilled her glass anyway. "On the house."

"How can I possibly drink this? There are at least thirty other bars along this beach I need to visit by tonight."

"You'd only be wasting your time. You're already sitting at the best place in town."

Hannah laughed and stole another glance at the monitor. Kirov was gone.

She drank the shot, slipped off the stool, and tossed a twenty onto the bar. "I might come back and give you my verdict at the end of the night. Will you still be here?"

"I'll make sure that I am. I close at 1:00 A.M."

She gave him a brilliant smile. "Have a nice day, Dane."

He's gorgeous," Hannah said five minutes later, when Kirov opened the car door for her. "He's like something out of Baywatch, only better."

"I forgot to tell you what a charmer he is." His lips tightened. "You're definitely mellow."

"Trust me, if I'm a little woozy, it's not because of his charm. I just downed three rum shots in the space of five minutes."

"I'm surprised you're still on your feet."

She shrugged. "I've had practice keeping up with hard-drinking sailors. So what did you find out?"

"Not much. I found the auto registration, but he used the bar as his address. There were receipts indicating that he often eats drive-through fast food on the way home after work. There was a gym bag with workout clothes in the backseat."

"Which he probably wears to work off all that fast food. Nothing else?"

"No. It was always a long shot, but there was no DayRunner, PDA, or anything that could lead us to Pavski. There was a luggage tag on the gym bag that had Dane's name and phone number. I might be able to use it to get a home address."

"Even if it's unlisted?"

He shrugged. "Eugenia has made me a bit paranoid, so I'd like to stay away from my usual contacts if I can."

"So what are we going to do?"

Kirov turned the wheel sharply and pulled into a convenience store parking lot. "Wait here."

Before she could reply, Kirov jumped out of the car and walked quickly to a pay phone. He thumbed through the Yellow Pages telephone directory, deposited some coins, and made a call. She watched as he repeated the process several times, then finally hung up and climbed back into the car.

"What was that about?"

Kirov scribbled something down on a scratch pad. "It was about getting Dane Niler's address."