Lukin sat in the operations room leafingthrough the lists of car registrations. He had been stupid to do what he did toRomulka. the driver recognized Massey he said, "What the devil ... But .his rage had been so overpowering he couldn't help him self. He tried toconcentrate on the papers in front of him.

By law and for internal security, allpublic and private transport vehicles in the Soviet Union were registered withthe militia and the KGB 2nd Directorate. Vehicle licenses and ownership werestrictly controlled and both were automatically refused to those convicted ofserious criminal and political crimes, so Lukin had disregarded the lists ofdissidents.

He had gone to the registrations officeand showed the officer in charge his letter from Beria, and ten minutes laterthe man had come back with a ten-page list of Skoda owner registrations forMoscow.

It had taken Lukin another fifteenminutes to find a couple of likely suspects. There were a dozen gray Skodasregistered to women owners. Lukin considered that it was also likely the carcould be registered in the woman's husband's name if she was married, but twofemale owners stood out on the lists.

One was named Olga Prinatin. Lukin knewshe was a famous ballerina with the Boishoi and her description was nothinglike the one Rizov had given him.

Another woman, named Irena Dezov, alsohad a gray Skoda registered in her name. Her address was in the Ramenki district,southwest of Moscow. He knew the area. It was a place where many senior armyofficers had weekend dachas. The kind of place Nadia could have been held. AsLukin noted all the other brief details in the file, he felt his pulse quicken.A widow, frena Dezov was aged thirty-eight, and there was a photograph thatshowed a handsome dark-haired woman. He could check further on her backgroundin the 2nd Directorate records office and see if he could come up with anythingthat suggested her motive. But some instinct told him he was on the righttrack. As he scrambled to his feet, the door opened. Pasha came in. His facestill looked gaunt and pale.

Lukin said, "Why aren't you at home?I want you to keep out of this. You're in enough trouble as it is."

"I wanted to see if you wereOK." He hesitated. "And I need to talk. Something's come up." Hesaw the notebook in Lukin's hand. "What have you got there?"

When Lukin explained about the woman,Pasha smiled. "Maybe you've struck gold. You think Alex Stanski could beusing her place as a safe house?"

"It's all I've got, Pasha."

"There's something you ought toknow. I just saw Romulka getting into a Zil out in the courtyard. He seemed ina hurry and there was another Car following behind with some nasty lookingheavies, armed to the teeth. I phoned the cellars. Apparently, the Frenchman'sin a bad state and the prison doctor had to give him a shot of morphine,"Lukin whitened.

Pasha said, "Looks like maybeRomulka was right and Lebel's cracked or been drugged up to the eyeballs withscopolamine to make him talk. What are you going to do?"

Lukin reached for his belt and holsterand hurriedly buckled it on. "Follow them and see what direction they'regoing in. If it's toward Ramenki, as I suspect, I'll try and get to the woman'saddress before Romulka does. If it's not, I'm in trouble. There's no time tocheck her background further. Give me those car keys, man, quick!"

"You're going alone?"

"I'm going to take a couple of menalong," Lukin lied.

"And what happens if Anna Khorev'sthere? How do you explain that?"

"That's my problem. But you're outof it, Pasha. That's an order."

"You forget, I'm on sick leave. Idon't have to take orders."

"Pasha, for once do as you'retold."

"I wouldn't miss this foranything." Pasha hesitated, his face suddenly bleak. "What do we doif we find Stanski?"

"God knows."

"If Romulka gets his hands on himand the woman, they're finished. So are we."

Lukin was suddenly gripped by a terriblefeeling of confusion and panic. The whole business was a mess and he didn'tknow exactly what he was going to do once he reached the woman's address, ifshe was the right one. He didn't want Pasha to come with him, but he knew itwas pointless arguing and he didn't have the time. The man was disobeying himmore out of loyalty than any disrespect.

Lukin said, "I've got a better idea.Where's Lebel now?"

"In the prison surgery. The doctor'sstill patching him up."

"Get Lebel and bring him up to thecourtyard. We're taking him with us. I could be wrong about Irena Dezov. Let'ssee if he can tell us what he told Romulka."

"According to one of the guards he'sbarely able to walk."

"Then get him some more morphinefrom the doctor. Do whatever you have to, but just get the Frenchman." Hehanded Pasha Beria's letter. "And if anyone questions you show themthat."

He picked up his car keys from the deskand was already moving toward the door. "Let's get going. Romulka's got ahead start."

It took Massey five minutes to thread hisway through the Woods to the rear of the dacha, and when he came out of thetrees he found himself at the end of a large garden with withered fruit treescovered in snow.

The shutters on the dacha's windows wereopen, but all the windows were closed, and no light showed behind the curtains.He could make out what looked like an open woodshed off to the left with a carparked in it.

He moved forward, staying in the shadows,and made his way to a small stone-flagged patio at the rear. He tried the backdoor, turning the handle gently. It was unlocked. He pushed. The door creaked alittle, then opened quietly on its hinges.

The room inside was in pitch darkness.Massey stood there for several moments, tensed for a reaction, aware of thesweat on his face as he listened for any sound within the house or forsomething to happen.

Nothing.

The silence rang like thunder in hisears.

He stepped inside. There was a strongsmell of rancid food. From the location of the room and the smell he guessed hewas in the kitchen.

He flicked on his flashlight. The roomwas large and basic; a table and some chairs and some pots and kitchenutensils. He saw a hallway ahead, a door halfway down. A yellow crack of lightspilled out from under the door. He moved carefully toward the light, his heartbeating in his ribs. When he reached the door, he hesitated and listened again.Silence. He cocked the Tokarev. Click. In the stillness the faint noise soundedlike an explosion. Jesus. Again, he waited for a reaction.

Nothing.

He took a deep breath, then pushed in thedoor and stepped quickly into the room. As he sought a target, he felt the coldtip of a gun against his neck.

He froze, then tried to look around assomeone stepped from behind the door.

Stanski's voice said, "I wouldn't,Jake. Now how about you drop the gun. I think we need to talk."

As the BMW drove over Lutznikovski Bridgetoward October Square, Lukin wiped the perspiration from his face and checkedhis watch.

Eleven-thirty.

There was a groan in the back seat fromLebel, The Frenchman was out of it, his eyes closed. Lukin had put handcuffs onhim but the man was going nowhere, still drowsy after the drugs. The doctor hadgiven them some extra morphine, but by the look of it Lebel was already druggedup to the eyeballs. According to the doctor, the combination of the scopolamineand morphine acted as a strong painkiller but caused drowsiness, and Lukinwondered if taking the Frenchman along had been a waste of time.

Now Pasha looked out beyond thewindshield. "At this rate we'll be lucky to make Ramenki beforesunrise."