"I'll take that as a compliment," Benton said. "Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?" He led Verbaken into the suite's sitting room, which was equipped with a large wooden desk, a minibar, a television, a glass-top coffee table, green chairs and a sofa, a cupboard with a full-length mirror, potted plants, and a large window that opened onto a terrace.

"Some water is fine if you have it. You know, I've lived in Brussels all my life, but I've never been in a room in the Metropole," Verbaken said.

"It's a very nice place," Benton said. He went to the minibar, fetched two bottles of springwater, and joined Verbaken. He looked at the Belgian and asked, "I assume you brought it?"

Verbaken nodded. He set his briefcase on his lap, opened it, and handed the file to Benton. "I've got a little less than an hour," he said.

Benton glanced at the number of pages in the folder and said, "Shouldn't be a problem. I can snap pictures of each page with this." He showed Verbaken the Operational Satellite Uplink that the NSA provided to him.

"I don't suppose you ever met the subject in question?" Benton asked.

Verbaken shook his head. "No, no, that was before my time. I joined the service a couple of years after the man was killed. There may be one or two of the senior staff who knew him. Very interesting guy."

Benton nodded and snapped a shot of the first page. "Have you heard any more about our friends in the Middle East?"

"No more than what you already have. I'm still looking into it, though. You might say it's a pet project of mine," Verbaken answered. "Have you been to Belgium before?"

"Yes, a while back. I wouldn't mind being stationed in Europe instead of in that cesspool over in the Middle East," Benton said. "Believe me, this is a vacationcoming here." He continued snapping pictures of the file's pages with the OPSAT.

Verbaken chuckled. "I can imagine."

"Have you ever been to the States?"

"Three times. My wife and I--" Verbaken was interrupted by a knock at the door. The man froze and his eyes widened.

Benton held up his hands. "Don't worry. I ordered myself some lunch. That's room service." He grabbed the small Beretta and went to the door. After looking through the peephole, Benton opened the door to a small man in a white coat.

"Room service," the man said in English.

"Bring it right in," Benton said, holding the door open. The waiter rolled in a cart that held three covered dishes. "Put it over there by the window." Benton looked at Verbaken and asked, "Would you like to order some lunch?"

"No, no thank you," Verbaken replied. "I'm not very hungry."

"Suit yourself." After the waiter placed the cart, Benton tipped him and showed him out the door. Once again he locked the door and resumed his position over the file. "You were saying?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. America." Verbaken took a sip of water. "My wife and I went on our honeymoon there. New York City. Fascinating place."

Benton took another shot and then took the time to examine the contents of his meal. He laid the pistol on the bed and lifted the lids on the food. "Mmm. Looks pretty good. Creamed potato soup with smoked eel, salmon flaky pastry with Sevruga caviar, asparagus, and a bottle of Duvel beer. Can't beat that, eh?"

"I'm sure it's delicious."

"Sure you don't want anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Benton frowned. "Wait a second. I asked for a basket of bread. And butter. Damn." He went to the phone, picked up the receiver, and punched the button for room service.

"Yeah, this is Mr. Benton in 505. I ordered some bread and butter with my lunch. It's not on the tray. Uh-huh. Okay, thanks." He hung up and moved back to the file to snap another photo. "They're sending it up."

"Go ahead and eat," Verbaken said. "I don't mind."

Benton smiled and left the OPSAT on the table with the file. He moved to the cart but was stopped by the sound of a key in the door.

"That was fast," Verbaken said.

"A little too fast if you ask me." Benton leaped for the Beretta, but the door exploded inward before he could reach it. Yuri thrust the suppressor-fitted barrel of a Heckler & Koch VP70 in Benton's face, preventing him from reacting.

"Don't move, gentlemen," Yuri said, keeping the gun trained on Benton. "Back up, please, and raise your hands high above your head." With his other hand he placed the hotel's master passkey back into his pocket.

Benton did as he was told. Verbaken went pale.

Vlad drew a gun of his own, a Glock, and pointed it at the Belgian. "Don't get up on our account," the Russian said.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Verbaken whispered.

Vlad struck the man across the face with the Glock. "I didn't say to talk," he said.

Verbaken held his hands to his cheek and bent forward.

"Keep your hands in the air, please," Vlad ordered.

The Belgian complied, revealing an ugly scrape on the left side of his face.

Yuri motioned to the sofa. "Sit down over there, please," he said to Benton. "Keep your hands up."

Benton moved slowly around the coffee table, next to the food cart. With the speed of a cat he grabbed a knife from the cart and threw it at Yuri. The Russian, however, was faster. He snapped his body sideways as the knife flew past him and hit the wall. The Heckler & Koch recoiled twice-- thwack thwack. Benton jerked backward and crashed into the food cart, creating a sickening cacophony of breaking glass and clanging pans. The American eventually rolled off the cart and fell to the floor, facedown.

In a panic Verbaken jumped to his feet and ran toward the door. Thwack thwack. This time Vlad's silenced Glock performed the dirty work. The Belgian slammed into the door and slid down slowly, leaving a bloody smear.

After a few silent seconds, Yuri observed, "Well, that didn't go very well."

"Not too smooth," Vlad agreed. "Messy."

"We'd better hurry. That made a lot of noise."

Vlad nodded and went to the copier. He took the sheets of paper from the table--the stack that had already been photographed and the pages that hadn't. He put the paper back in the manila folder, picked up Benton's OPSAT, and dropped it on the carpet. He then lifted his hard-heeled shoe and brought it down forcefully, smashing the device.

"Do we need anything else?" he asked his partner.

"Look in the bedroom. See if his laptop is there. Bring the American's weapon if you can find it quickly," Yuri answered. Vlad grunted and went into the bedroom. Yuri walked over to Benton's corpse and kicked the man's head.

"Fuck you," he muttered.

Vlad returned with a laptop and a Five-seveN, the weapon of choice for NSA intelligence officers. "Look what I found."

"Good. Now let's get out of here."

After cracking the door open, Yuri made a quick check of the hallway. He nodded to his partner and they left, shutting the door behind them.

Three minutes went by before there was a knock at the door again. The silence prompted another knock.

"Room service." It was a woman's voice this time.

Knock knock."Hello?"

The waitress used a passkey and pushed the door open a bit. "Room service. Hello?" She swung the door wider and saw Verbaken's bloody body on the floor. The waitress gasped, took in the sight of the other corpse on the far side of the room, and ran from the suite screaming.