Gallishko's face had a worried look.Instead of walking directly toward the cabin, they skirted it and walked backinto the woods. It took them another half-hour to determine that the area wasdeserted, circling it carefully, until they finally came back to the charredremains of the cabin. Each of them moved more like practiced hunters now,careful and watchful, as if they were stalking some animal hiding inside.

It was Galushko and the younger man whowent toward the cabin first, moving cautiously onto the remains of the veranda.The women remained a distance away, watching in case anyone appeared.

"Anybody here?"

Galushko called out twice, but no oneappeared. He could hear the two women doing the same outside, their voicescarrying on the breeze and out onto the cold lake like Ghostly cries for help.But still no one came and no voice answered.

Then Galushko and his companion tooktheir time, sifting through the remains.

When they checked the area around thecabin they saw no sign of a disturbance at first, but then Galushko's practicedeyes saw the dark stains on the ground, the patchy snow all around melted fromthe heat. When he bent to examine the stains he knew it was blood.

He stood and glanced anxiously at hiscompanion.

After that they moved more quickly.

It took them almost half an hour,searching the area as thoroughly as they could, then checking the vehicles andthe boat and the perimeter of the lake, before they moved out into the woodsagain.

Another hour later they had found nothingand Galushko was frustrated. They were about to go back to the trailer, hadwalked back along the lake shore, when one of the women went off to relieveherself in the woods, the cold bit at them all. Galushko saw her undo thebuttons of her jeans as she walked away, watching her figure as she retreatedfarther into the forest for privacy. When he looked back at one moment, he sawher white buttocks appearing in the forest gloom like some strange and bloatedghostlv apparition as the woman squatted and relieved herself. Galushko smiledfaintly before he turned back toward the others.

They had almost reached the camper whenshe came running after them breathlessly. Galushko saw the look on her face,not fear, these women didn't show fear, but something else, and then she wasbeside Galushko, but looking at the others too, saying, "I think you'dbetter come back and have a look."

Moscow.

Hours later in New York, on that samelate February evening, Leonid Kislov, the KGB station head in New York's SovietUN mission, boarded a Pan Am flight to London, with onward connections toVienna and Moscow.

He carried with him a diplomaticbriefcase handcuffed to his right wrist, and he hardly slept throughout theentire twenty-two-hour journey.

As he climbed tiredly into a cold Zil,Kislov found a blanket on the back seat and pulled it over his freezing legs.The driver climbed in front and looked around cheerfully. "You had apleasant flight. comrade?"

Kislov didn't feel like small talk, hishead aching after the long flights, especially with the knowledge of what hecarried in the briefcase gnawing at his brain.

He said gruffly, "The Kremlin, quickas you can."

The driver turned back at the rebuff andeased the Zil across the snowy tarmac toward the airfield exit.

Finland. February 23rd The scheduled SASConstellation from Stockholm landed in darkness at Helsinki's Maimi airport alittle after five that February afternoon.

Three of the passengers on board wereMassey, Stanski and Anna Khorev.

As the plane taxied in, there was littleto see in the almost Arctic darkness beyond the cabin windows. Ten minutesafter the aircraft touched down they came through Arrivals.

A blond-haired man wearing a worn leatherflying jacket and a white woollen scarf came out of the waiting room shookMassey's hand cheerfully.

"Good to see you, Jake. So this mustbe the cargo?"

Massey turned to Anna and Stanski."I'd like you to meet Janne Saarinen, your pilot. One of Finland'sbest."

Saarinen smiled as he shook their hands.He looked small for a Finn and his face was a mass of angry scars, but despitethe disfigurement he seemed a cheerful sort.

"Don't pay any attention toJake," Saarinen said in perfect English. "He's an old flatterer. Youmust be exhausted after the flight. I've got a car outside, so let's get you toour base."

It was very cold and eerily dark outside,just a faint trace of watery light on the Arctic horizon.

As Saarinen took Anna's case and led themto the parking lot, Massey saw the look on their faces as the Finn limped hisway ahead of them, swinging his leg out in front with each step.

When he was out of hearing, Massey saidto Stanski, "What's wrong?"

"in case you hadn't noticed I'd sayyour friend's missing a leg."

"Don't let it bother you. It hasn'tbothered Janne. Believe me. he's the best there is."

Saarinen climbed in the front of a smallmuddied green Volvo, and Massey slid in beside him, Stanski in the back withAnna. As they drove out of the airport minutes later she was already asleep,exhausted after the long _journey, her head resting on Stanski's shoulder.

"Welcome to Bylandet Island,"said Saarinen.

They rattled over the bridge and came toa small cove that consisted of a couple of bright-painted wooden buildings, astretch of curved frozen beach in front and a thick forest behind. Saarinendrove toward a big, solitary two-story greenpainted wooden house, its shuttersfirmly closed, and halted in front. Wood fuel was piled high against one of thewalls, and the remains of a fishing boat languished nearby, a clump of ancientfrozen netting hanging from a rusty hook on the side of the house.

"The place used to belong to a localfisherman, until he drank himself to death," Saarinen told them. "Notsurprising really. This is the only house on this part of the island and it'soff the beaten track. Hardly anyone comes here in winter apart from wildlife,unless like us they're completely mad, so we won't be bothered."

The house was all bright-colored pineinside and freezing cold. Saarinen lit a couple of oil lamps and showed themaround. A large room downstairs served as the kitchen and living room area,sparsely furnished with a pine table and four chairs and an ancient settee anddresser, but the place was kept neat and tidy. A small wooden table in a cornerof the room was covered with a heavy canvas sheet that hid something bulkyunderneath. There was a wood-burning stove in the corner and when Saarinen hadlit it, pouring some kerosene on the logs to get the blaze going, he showedthem their rooms upstairs.

They were comfortably furnished withsimple pine beds, an oil lamp and locker beside each; but the rooms smelledunpleasantly of must and salty sea air. When they went downstairs ten minuteslater, Saarinen had got the electric generator going and made coffee.

In the kitchen a single light was onoverhead, and a couple of maps were spread out on the table, showing thesouthern coast of Finland and the western coasts of Russia and the BalticCountries in detail. On one Saarinen had marked the intended flight route witha red pen.

He smiled. "The house isn't exactlythe Helsinki Palace, I'm afraid, and the salt smell can't be helped, but it'sjust for one night. Right, now to business. The Crossing shouldn't take morethan thirty-five minutes, forty at the outside, depending on any head winds wemight meet after we take off from here."

He pointed to the map and the red curvedline he had drawn which ran from Bylandet Island to a point across the BalticSea'just outside Tallinn, Estonia. "From the island here to the drop pointnear Tallinn it's exactly seventy@five miles. A snap, really, if things goaccording to plan."