He got to his feet shakily, took acautious step forward and bumped into a stone wall. He stepped back and turned,took three paces, his hand outstretched, and felt another wall. Four hesitantpaces to the left took him to a metal door.

He was in a cell, no question.

He stumbled his way back to the woodenbed and sat down, overcome by a dreadful feeling of doom. The same blackfeelings he had endured in Auschwitz returned.

He remembered what had happened at theclub. What did the colonel named Romulka want? But Lebel knew, and that thoughtfilled him with an even greater dread. He should never have got involved inthis. Never. He had signed his own death warrant. Or something worse thandeath-harsh imprisonment in a labor camp.

As his body shook with fear he suddenlyheard voices outside, feet scraping on concrete, and a light burst on overhead,blinding him, as the cell door opened.

He blinked and saw Romulka step into thecell.

"So, our sleeping beauty isawake."

"Where am I'? What's the meaning ofthis outrage?" Lebel demanded.

"To answer your first question,you're in the Lubyanka prison."

Lebel looked at Romulka in disbelief.

"As to the second, I think thereason for your presence ought to be obvious."

Lebel shook his head. "I ... I don'tknow what you're talking about."

"Really, Lebel, you're wasting mytime. I know all about your connection to Massey. So let's put the pretenseaside and get down to business, shall we? My time is limited." He steppedcloser. He held a riding crop in his left hand and he put the tip of it underLebel's chin.

"Your intention in Moscow was tohelp a certain couple. I want to know how, when and where you were to meet themand who your accomplices are."

"You're out of your mind."

"Something else disturbs me that'sturned up in my investigation. A man named Braun who used to work for us, who'snow unfortunately dead. You made certain inquiries about him from an employeeat the Soviet Embassy in Paris in return for a considerable sum of francs. Doyou deny it?"

Despite his best effort, Lebel wentnoticeably pale. "I really don't know what you're talking about. This issome sort of conspiracy-"

The riding crop flicked back and struckLebel a stinging blow on the face. He cried out and put his hand to his cheek.He felt a gash and saw blood on his fingers.

"How dare you. You have no right totreat me like this. I have important connections in Moscow. I demand to see theFrench Ambassador."

Romulka's crop prodded his chest."Shut up, you filthy little Jew, and listen to me. You can demand all youlike but I want answers and I want them quick. Talk, and I have you back inParis on a plane before you can say goodbye. Refuse, and I'll grind you to dust.Understand? Now, are you going to talk?"

"I told you ... I don't know whatyou're talking about .. You're making a dreadful mistake."

"Very well, play it your way."Romulka turned and snapped his fingers. "In here."

Two brutal-faced men in black KGBuniforms came through the door and crowded into the cell. They each grabbedLebel by the arms.

Roniulka said, "Take him down to thecellars. A little Lubyanka hospitality ought to soften him up."

"I tell you, this is amistake!"

As Lebel protested, Romulka smashed afist hard into his face, and the men dragged him from the cell.

Lukin stood at his apartment window.

Across the river he saw the lights of thelate evening traffic moving across Kalinin Bridge, headlights probing the thinicy fog that had descended on Moscow.

Nine P.m.

He had arrived home an hour ago, needingto get away from headquarters and from the powerful grip of hopelessness hefelt crushing him.

And he needed to see Nadia.

She had made supper for them both, soupand cold sausage and a half-liter of Georgian wine. The wine had lifted hisspirits just a little but now its effect had worn off and he felt wretchedagain.

To make matters worse he had hardlyspoken to Nadia during the meal.

He saw her reflection in the window asshe cleared away the supper plates. She looked over at him for a moment, thenwent into the kitchen. When she came out again he was still standing at thewindow.

"Yuri."

He looked around absentmindedly. Shestood watching him. She wore a cardigan over her shoulders, and as she brusheda strand of hair from her face, she said, "You hardly touched yourfood."

Lukin smiled weakly. "The soup wasgood. I just wasn't hungry. I'm sorry, my love."

"Come. Sit with me."

She went to sit on the couch. Her browwas creased in a worried frown and the corners of her mouth were turned downwith tension. He hadn't helped to improve her mood. His own was worse. He feltdesperate, totally lost.

Anna Khorev still hadn't talked. And nowthere was nothing he could do to save her. That prospect troubled him.

The roadblocks and the searches to findthe Wolf had turned up nothing. If the man was still alive, Lukin felt certainhe was in Moscow. But where? And how did you search a city of five millionsouls?

Nadia's voice brought him back. "Sitbeside me, Yuri."

Lukin went to sit next to her on thecouch. She touched his arm. "This is the first time I've seen you in fourdays. But you're not really here in spirit, are you, Yuri? Is there anythingyou need to talk about?"

Lukin reached for her hand and kissed it.He never talked to his wife about his work. It was a rule he had made withhimself. But right now he had a powerful urge to tell her everything andlighten the terrible weight that crushed him.

"I'm sorry, my love. It's notsomething I can talk about."

"I understand. But you worry me,Yuri."

"Why?"

"Because whatever's troubling you istearing you apart. I've never seen you like this before. Distracted. Lost.Dejected. You're like a different man."

He let out a deep sigh of frustration andstood. His body ached all over. He had gone almost three nights without sleep.He looked down at his wife and shook his head. "Please. Not now,Nadia."

"What time do you have toleave?"

"Six A.M."

She stood. Her hand gently touched hisface, then fell away. "You're exhausted. You need to sleep. Let's go tobed."

Lukin went into the bedroom, undressedand got into bed.

When Nadia came in she removed herclothes and lay down beside him. He felt the heat of her body as she snuggledup close, her small, hard nipples brushing against his bare chest.

"The baby is kicking. Can you feelit, Yuri?"

He laid his hand on his wife's belly andfelt the rise, and then suddenly a feeling like a sharp jolt. He put his headon Nadia's stomach and kissed her bump.

For a long time, as he lay theresilently, Nadia's hand stroking his hair, he thought of Anna Khorev in the parkthat afternoon. Her screams when they took her daughter away. The memoryplaying over and over in his mind until it almost crushed him and he feltsmothered by a wave of remorse. He sighed, a long, troubled sigh.

Nadia whispered, "Tell me, Yuri. ForGod's sake, tell me what's troubling you before it breaks your heart."

For several long moments he didn't speak,then he said, "I can't. Please, don't ask me."

He heard the anguish in his own voice andthen her arms went around his neck and she held him close.

Something seemed to break then, like adam bursting inside his head. His whole body shook and his shoulders trembled.

In the darkness he heard himself crying,for Anna Khorev, for Nadia, for his unborn child, for himself.