"So?"

"It's time we turned our disadvantages into advantages."

"How?"

"That's what we have to decide." His brows lifted. "I'm open to suggestions."

And she had nothing to suggest. Everything was moving too fast, and she had to digest what Kirov had told her before she could think clearly. She shook her head. "Believe me, I won't be shy about giving you input when I come up with something."

He smiled. "No, there's nothing shy about you. It promises well for other aspects of our relationship." Before she could answer, he stood up. "In the meantime, I'll give you breathing room." He headed for the door. "I'm right next door to you. If you want to talk, knock on my door. I'll order takeout and deliver your supper at six. Okay?"

"Okay."

He looked over his shoulder. "And don't dwell on this. It won't do any good. It's over." He grimaced. "That's no good. Wrong thing to say." He whirled, crossed the room, and fell to his knees in front of her. "Do what you have to do. Feel what you have to feel." He held her gaze with his own. "But what's happened hasn't changed what you are. If I could take it away, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I can't do that." His hand reached up and gently touched her cheek. "And I'm too much of a bastard to wish that you'd never come into my life. All I can do is tell you that I'll shoulder every burden you'll let me. I'll fight for you. I'll give you comfort." His finger traced the line of her upper lip. "I'll give you anything you want from me. Is that enough?"

He was barely touching her, and her chest was tight, and the intensity in the room was thick and charged. Charged with what? She knew he was trying to comfort her, and the comfort was there. Yet there was also the disturbing element that seemed always to be between them now.

He shook his head as he got to his feet. "It's kind of mixed up, isn't it?" He turned and strode toward the door. "My intentions were good. It just didn't turn out the way I-"

The door closed behind him.

She slowly got to her feet and moved across to the picture window overlooking the sun-baked beach.

Another beach.

Most of her adult life had been spent either on beaches like this one or on the oceans of the world. She would have been contented and happy to have spent the rest of her days doing the same job with the same people. Even thirty days ago she would never have dreamed that she would be thrown into this chaos.

She had killed two men today. She had watched a man whom she'd found amusing and likable die because he'd tried to kill her and Kirov. And she had taken another involuntary step closer to Kirov in the midst of all that turmoil.

Mixed up? Yes, her life, and her responses were on a par with the confusion of every minute of this day. She'd just have to ride it out until all the madness was over.

And when the hell would that be? she wondered wearily. She'd thought they were on their way to getting Pavski when they'd found Niler. Instead, they'd barely escaped with their lives and were back to square one. Kirov might not be discouraged, but she was tired of treading water. She needed to see-

Her cell phone rang.

Kirov?

She took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

She stiffened. A chill went through her.

Conner Bryson.

"The operation was a bust in Panama City," Koppel said as he hung up the phone. "The local news is reporting two car explosions within fifteen minutes of each other."

"Then it can't be a bust," Pavski said. "One of those cars must be Kirov's."

Koppel shook his head. "One vehicle was driven by 'popular bar owner Dane Niler.'"

Pavski muttered a curse. "And the other?"

"We think it's our men. They were in pursuit of a vehicle that resembled the rental car Niler said Kirov was driving."

"Verify."

Koppel nodded and started to dial again.

Pavski barely listened to the conversation as he tried to control the anger surging through him. He had thought he had Kirov, but he had slipped away again. He was beginning to understand why his men had referred to Kirov as a ghost.

Damn him to hell. He needed Kirov out of his life once and for all. He might be getting a call from Danzyl any minute, and he couldn't chance Kirov getting in his way.

Koppel hung up. "I can't raise either of our men in Panama City."

Confirmed.

Shit.

"What do we do?" Koppel asked.

"Well, we don't sit around looking helpless and asking stupid questions." Pavski thought about it. "Did you do as I asked you and accessed Kirov's phone?"

"Yes, we went through Bradworth's phone as you told me. But we can't trace Kirov. He must be using relays."

"I didn't expect to trace it. I want to talk to him."

"Why?"

Because it was time. Because he was tired of playing cat and mouse. Because he couldn't bear for Kirov to think he'd made a fool of him. "Just get him on the phone for me."

No identifier on the ID box.

Kirov hesitated, and then picked up the call on the fourth ring.

"You missed me again, Captain. I'd think you'd grow discouraged. Or should I call you Kirov? Yes, I think I will. The proud captain of Silent Thunder has faded into ineffectual nothingness."

He went still. "Pavski?" Of course, it was Pavski. "And you missed me. You're gradually losing all your support. Pretty soon you'll have to stiffen your backbone and face me."

"I don't have to confront a man who will be dead in days. It's very fitting you took the name of a dead man. It's only a matter of time until you join Ivanov."

"Were you the one who tipped Bradworth?"

"Of course. I've suspected you were still alive for the last year. The descriptions I received of the 'ghost' fit you far better than Ivanov. The FSB started investigating after hearing rumors three years ago from people in the village who claimed they had seen a wounded man who had died and was buried there. The description bore a resemblance to Ivanov but it wasn't worthwhile for the FSB to pursue it on their limited budget. I thought I'd let Bradworth confirm it."

"I hate to disappoint you, but you didn't cause much trouble for me. I was already distancing myself from Bradworth."

"It will keep you from going to him for help when I have time to go after you."

"Oh, and what was Niler's attempt? Admit it. You screwed up, Pavski."

Silence. "Enjoy your gloating. I'm the one who will end up on top. No one can keep me from-"

"You're a criminal and a mass murderer. You have no destiny but the same one as Stalin and Attila the Hun. You're going down, Pavski. And I'm going to be the one to do it."

"Such passion. I remember that about you. My officers said that you nearly went berserk when you heard about the deaths of your crew." He added softly, "I did that to you. I killed them. I killed your wife. I hurt you. I destroyed your life. I enjoy thinking about it. I wanted you to know that."

"Is that why you phoned me?"

"Perhaps. And to tell you that sending Eugenia Voltar to Moscow was an exercise in futility. She's going to find nothing. No one is going to talk to her. If they do, it will be too late. I'll already have all I need."

"We'll see. Eugenia is a remarkable woman. She can be very persuasive." He paused. "And I wouldn't think about taking her out if I were you. She's very competent, and you might lose another man."

"She's going to die. I'd already decided that she could become an obstacle. I will find the cradle."

"Only in your dreams."

"You'll see. Or maybe you won't. Unless you're looking up from hell. You still have Hannah Bryson with you. Don't you find her in the way?"

"No."

"I do." He hung up.

Kirov slowly hung up the phone. The rage was still searing through him. Christ, he was actually shaking with anger. Control. He and Pavski hadn't spoken since that last day on the Silent Thunder. Pavski had meant to remind him of that day of horror and failure, when he had been taken prisoner and Pavski reigned supreme.