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“Colonels in my army do when they are given great responsibility.”
“Such as?”
“Protecting the Soviet Union’s prosecutors, Iona Nikitchenko and Alexander Volchkov, from all harm. As you, James, I understand, are protecting Judge Biddle and Justice Jackson.”
“You heard about that, huh?”
“And I also heard what happened to your friend Lieutenant Moriarty. Please accept my condolences on your loss.”
The only way he could know about Bonehead is from the mole, or moles, he has in the Compound. And he wants me to know he has moles.
“Well, people should be very careful when cleaning their pistols.”
“That’s not what I heard happened to the lieutenant.”
“What did you hear?”
Major Alekseevich finished pouring the champagne.
Who is this guy?
Really his aide, or someone the NKGB sent to watch him?
The way Polkovnik Dragomirov was watching him the last time he bought me dinner in Vienna?
And now that I think about it, Serov should have been in trouble when the Mattingly–Likharev prisoner swap didn’t work.
And he didn’t manage to get Major of State Security Venedikt Ulyanov back from us before we found out he was former SS-Brigadeführer Franz von Dietelburg.
So what’s he doing here, rather than penance in Lubyanka? Or Siberia?
Is he Commissar of State Security Nikolayevich Merkulov’s fair-haired boy? All is forgiven, my boy. Daddy Merkulov knows you gave it the old school try?
Wild thought: Maybe Merkulov hasn’t given up on getting the Likharevs back, and sent him here for another try.
Why here?
Because Captain James D. Cronley Jr. is here?
Is the sonofabitch here to kidnap me?
Does he think I’m that important?
I’ll be goddamned!
Serov raised his flute.
“Gentlemen and lady,” he said, “may I suggest we raise our glasses to international cooperation?”
“Lovely thought, Colonel,” Cohen said.
“I know these gentlemen from Berlin,” Serov said, tipping his flute toward Dunwiddie and Ostrowski, “but we’ve never been formally introduced. And I don’t have the pleasure of knowing this gentleman.” He tipped his glass toward Ziegler.
“Mr. August Ziegler,” Cronley said.
Serov offered his hand. Ziegler took it.
“How do you do, Colonel?” he asked.
