"Move, you bitch! Move!"

He had gone another twenty yards when helooked back and saw the blond man come down the veranda dragging a body out ofthe burning cabin, then the man looked up and saw Braun and broke into a runtoward him. Braun fired oft' two quick shots in his direction, then pulled thewoman against him as a shield and shouted to the man, "Come any closer andI kill her!"

The man slowed but kept coming, and thenBraun saw the gun in his hand. He recognized him from the photographs. Stanski.The Wolf.

He flicked an anxious look back at thePackard. It was thirty meters away along the narrow track through the woods.

Close enough to get away.

He moved backward smartly, still holdingthe woman in front of him.

He looked back. Stanski had started tomove toward him again.

Braun pressed the gun hard into thewoman's head and roared, "Another step and I kill the bitch!"

Stanski halted thirty meters away. Therewas sweat on Braun's face as he reached the car, but he knew now Stanski wastoo far away to stop him. He smiled as he yanked open the driver's door andshoved Anna inside. He fumbled for the keys in the ignition. They were gone.

"Kurt Braun?"

Braun spun around in his seat, a look ofpanic on his face as he heard the voice.

Another man sat behind him in the back,rage in his eyes and a .38 in his hand, the weapon aimed at Braun's face.

"I asked are you Kurt Braun?"

Before Braun could reply Massey squeezedthe trigger.

The cabin was still in flames as Stanskiheld a storm lamp over the bodies laid out a distance away.

There was a terrible look of grief onStanski's face as Massey looked down at Vassily's body. They had searched theothers for forms of identity but Braun's was the only one Massey was interestedin.

Vassily's body was badly burned and therewas a gunshot wound in his chest, another in his shoulder. Massey looked atStanski for a long time. It was the first time he had ever seen such a look ofanguish on his face, and he touched his arm.

"This is my fault. I'm sorry,Alex."

Stanski was suddenly white with anger."It's no one's fault but the people who did it. He didn't have to die andthey didn't have to kill him." He looked at Massey, a frightening rage inhis eyes. "Someone's going to pay for this, Jake. Someone's going- to paydearly, so help me ..."

Leave that to me, Alex. But right thisminute, all bets are off. We're canceling the operation."

Stanski shook his head fiercely."You do that and I go in alone, with or without your help. I told yousomeone's going to pay and I know who it is ..."

Massey turned to Stanski, "Not now,we talk later."

"I mean it, Jake. I go in with orwithout your help."

"We can't do it, Alex. Braniganwould never go along, not when he hears what's happened to Akashin. And what'shappened here only makes it worse. It's a security risk."

"When they find Akashin's body noone's going to know who did it. And Akashin couldn't have known what we intend.Besides, he's dead."

Massey shook his head. "Maybe, butBranigan will hear. Popov's body is in Braun's apartment. And Branigan will puttwo and two together."

Stanski looked over at Anna and said toMassey, "Either way it's going to take time before Branigan finds out.Anna can stay if you're worried. But me, I'm still going in.'@

Anna looked at him and said quietly,"if you go, I go too."

Massey looked at them both. For a longtime he seemed to hesitate, then he said to Stanski, "You're angry, butare you really sure about this?"

"Me, I'm on this ride to the end ofthe tracks. You'd better ask Anna that question."

"Anna ... ?"

She hesitated, then looked over atStanski's face and said, "Yes, I'm sure."

For a long time Massey seemed unable tomake up his mind, then he sighed and said, "OK, Alex, we do it your way.We'll have to bury the bodies in the woods in case anyone comes by. I'll worryabout Branigan later." Suddenly Massey seemed at a loss for words."I'll help you bury Vassily." Stanski shook his head and saidfiercely, "Not in the woods with those vermin who killed him. Down by thelake." Massey said quietly, "There's a shovel in the jeep. I'll getit.

There was a crash and an explosion ofsparks as part of the roof caved in.

He stared -,it the flames, his mouthtight in anger, and as Massey went to move toward the jeep he grabbed his arm andsaid in a hard voice, "Just tell me, when do we go in?"

"There's a flight to London fromBoston tonight, with a connection to Stockholm and Helsinki. We can make it ifwe hurry. We'll use Braun's car. I've got passports for both of' YOU."

"You didn't answer the question. Howlong before we go in?"

"Forty-eight hours."

February 23rd-24th 1953

New Hampshire. February 23rd It wasalmost 9:00 A.M. the following day when Collins drove up to Boston airport fromNew York.

He met the group off the CanadianAirlines flight from Ottawa, two women and a man, younger than himself, and bythe time they had hired the camper and equipment in Boston and applied for thehunting permits in New Hampshire, it was almost noon.

The man named Collins was thin but wellmuscled, in his early forties, and his eyes had the steely, detached look ofsomeone who had seen death and even dispensed it. The younger man wore glassesand his dark hair was cropped short. There was a faint hint of the Slav in hishigh cheekbones but his demeanor and manner were pure North American.

The two women were in their latetwenties, both pretty and vivacious, but Collins knew they would be as capableas he was with any kind of weapon, even in their hands. For the purpose of themission they were friends who had met on a camping holiday the previous summerat Lake Ontario, renewing their acquaintance. The briefing they had receivedhad been specific about using extreme caution.

The hired camping trailer had been Collins'sidea. Under cover of a hunting party they wouldn't arouse suspicion. All ofthem were illegals with no police or criminal record, unknown to the CIA or theRoyal Canadian Mounted Police. The rifles and pistols were legally bought andlicensed in their own names.

They turned onto the road that led downto Kingdom Lake just after one that afternoon. Snow chains had been fitted onthe tires so they wouldn't leave identifiable tracks. The landscape seemedtotally deserted. It reminded him of' the Caucasus of his homeland, and who hereally was, despite am)ost eight years as an illegal American citizen-MajorGri-ori Galushko, KGB 1st Directorate.

They parked the trailer a mile from thecabin on the lakeside @and decided to cook lunch before venturing closer. Thatway they were covered if anyone who had seen them came to investigate. But noone came and it was almost four when they changed into their hunting- clothes,all of them wearing gloves, and started to stroll toward the cabin, the mencarrying the rifles. They walked in couples and they made as much noise as theycould, joking and laughing as they strolled, acting like a quartet of marriedfriends out for a winter shooting holiday, but their eyes were everywhere,watching any movement, hearing every sound.

A hundred yards from the lakeside cabinthey stopped for a cigarette @and to drink from hip flasks. Galushko's eyesflicked nervously about the landscape. There was almost no snow in the forestitself, the @round protected by the trees. He still saw no movement, heard nosounds, only those of the wind and lake water lapping gently, some pigeons inthe pine trees above cooing their arrival.

They saw the boat tied up at thepromontory and the burned out cabin, smoke still curling from its embers, thejeep and the pickup parked nearby, the tires shot through, but no sign of life.