"Yes, I know."

"And you know what to do if we getseparated and there's a risk of being caught?"

She nodded solemnly.

Helsinki.

Branigan was standing at the window onthe second floor of the American Embassy, drinking his third cup of coffee.Massey sat in a nearby leather easy chair, looking grim as he stared out at thelights of the islands out in Helsinki bay.

There was a knock on the door and DouglasCanning came in holding a slip of flimsy paper in his hand. Massey stoodanxiously.

"Bad news, I'm afraid. I did as youasked and according to our radio monitoring boys here in the embassy there's ahell of a lot of transmission activity going on in Tallinn. Some kind ofsearch, by the sound of it. Our boys gather from the gist of it that they'relooking for two people, a man and a woman. Looks like your two friends aredefinitely in for trouble."

Branigan put down his coffee and snatchedthe paper from Canning's hand and stared at it, then crumpled the paper andflung it angrily against the wall.

"Damn ..." Canning said toMassey, "Doesn't anyone get to tell me what's going on here?"

Massey didn't reply, and Branigan lookedacross at him sternly. "I told you already, no questions. This is atop-secret matter. You keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it for you."

The diplomat flushed and looked offended."Look, like you say, it's none of my business, and I don't know what thehell is going on, but what's the story here? Are you and your people planningon staying around here?"

Branigan sighed and shook his head."We're into a whole different ball game." He looked over at Massey."I was right. You really fucked up, Jake. Big time." Massey saidworriedly, "What happens now?"

Branigan ignored the question and said toCanning, "I need to make an urgent call. Have you got a secure line I canuse?"

Canning smiled. "Sure. But Iwouldn't suggest you phone the Ambassador this late. The old man gets mightysore about late-night calls to his home."

Branigan stared back at the man withangry contempt. "You moron. I don't want to talk with the goddamnedAmbassador. I want to talk with the President."

Tallinn. February 2 7th Zinov lookedred-eyed from a blinding hangover when Anna and Stanski entered the dining roombefore seven. His jowls were like rubber and his brow furrowed as he sat aloneat a table.

He waved to them silently across theroom, and returned to his breakfast. When Gorev came in to serve them coffee,Stanski noticed that the innkeeper's hands shook.

"What's the matter?" he saidquietly.

Gorev leaned over to pour coffee andwhispered, "I took a walk down to the market square at six. The town iscrawling with militia and KGB and there are checkpoints everywhere. Withoutsounding like a defeatist, the moment you're gone I'm going to go and stay withmy friends in the forest until I think it's safe to reappear. If you're caught,that could be never."

Across the room, Zinov suddenly stood,wiped his mouth with his table napkin, and came over. He managed a weak smileat Gorev. "That champagne of yours could kill a man. My head feels likesomeone's been pounding it all night with a rubbe club."

"Every indulgence has its price,Colonel."

"Indeed," replied Zinov dryly.He looked at Anna an( smiled again weakly. "May I say you look veryfetching this morning, my dear."

Anna wore heavy make-up that was far frompleasing an( guessed Zinov was being polite. "Thank you, Colonel. Myhusband told me you're driving us to Leningrad. I'm very grateful."

"Nonsense. We have to look after ourmen in uniform. I'm just sorry this business of his has upset your honeymoonplans." Zinov looked at his watch and said briskly, "I'll be leavingin ten minutes, so try not to dally. They're expecting me in Leningrad for astaff lunch at one."

He turned to go, then hesitated and saidto Stanski, "We'll leave by the old East Tower, by the way. It takes usdirectly out onto the coast highway. And just so you know, I heard last eveningthe authorities are looking for a couple of enemy agents who parachuted in theother night, so there are probably going to be checkpoints, but hopefully theyshouldn't bother US."

Stanski pretended surprise. "Really?Enemy agents from where?"

"You know, I didn't even ask. A manand a woman. That's all I know."

Lukin had woken at six, still exhaustedafter sleeping badly. He shaved and dressed before sitting at the table andreading through the night's reports which Kaman had brought in.

Kaman had also left a samovar of tea andsome fresh rolls and foul-tasting plum jam on a breakfast tray. Lukin haddistrusted the captain, saying he would call if he needed him.

Now he spread the reports in front of himand sifted through the pages. The words danced on the paper, his eyeballs rawand sore from lack of sleep.

There was nothing much of interest. Everyhotel and inn in the city and old town had been visited and all the guests hadbeen accounted for, their backgrounds checked and verified by KGB Headquarterson Pikk Street, The deserter tally had risen to twenty-one arrested.

There was a joke in the army that if youwere going to desert, you headed west to the Baltic. The women were beautifuland the drink stronger and at least a man might have some fleeting enjoymentbefore being sent to a Siberian penal colony for desertion.

Lukin looked up briefly to stare out atthe darkness. Winter in this part of the Baltic was dark and brooding, onlythree hours of sunshine at most, and he always found winter depressing. Helonged for some warm Crimean sun; the scent of orange blossoms and wild jasmineand a hot wind on his face. He had promised to take Nadia to the Crimea thissummer. He wondered if he would still be alive by then to keep his promise.

He thought of her now, and dreaded toconsider what might become of her if he failed. He couldn't fail. Lukin sighedin despair and concentrated again on the reports, tension and frustrationcoiled up inside him like a spring.

Twenty-one deserters, a black marketeer,and a youth of fifteen with a rusting unlicensed German Luger but noammunition. The boy had been arrested during the night, and questioned aboutthe parachute drop, but it was obvious he knew nothing. Reading between thelines of the report by the local KGB, the boy had been tortured duringinterrogation. It was unlikely he was even a partisan. They hid in the forests,brave but futile Estonian men and women armed with decrepit German weapons, butthey still harried the army even eight years after the war.

Lukin shivered as he put the reportaside. The poor boy would most likely be shot. Having an unlicensed weapon inthe occupied territories meant certain execution, regardless of age.

He pushed back the chair and lit acigarette, felt the strong malckorka tobacco reach the pit of his lungs. Therewas a knock on the door and Kaman entered and saluted.

"The car's ready for your checkpointinspection, sir. The East Tower is first, I believe."

Lukin stubbed out his cigarette."Very well, Kaman, the East Tower it is."

It was pitch dark and freezing as theEmka rattled down the narrow cobbled roads of the old town.

Like most small Russian cars, the Emkawas pretty basic and had no heater, so Zinov wore a heavy sheepskin jacket tokeep warm. He had suggested that Anna and Stanski sit together in the backseat, and use the heavy woollen blanket he kept for passengers to cover theirlegs. When he turned left into a narrow road that led toward one of the ancientgranite towers, they all saw the checkpoint ahead.

A group of plain-clothes men anduniformed militia manned a temporary red barrier placed across the road betweentwo oil barrels, just in front of the tower. There was a line of three vehiclesin front, two delivery trucks and a private car, halted and waiting to beallowed to pass. The militiamen appeared to have finished searching the firsttruck and it drove through when the barrier was removed.