"They'll drop me into the ocean."

"Oy! You confuse me with Alex Gorev, that barbarian. This is Benny, the man who loves and forgives you. The man who can protect you from Alex. You know what he did to Elena?"

"I heard."

"Then come home to Daddy. And bring my property with you. I have a reward for you."

"Okay, Benny. I'll come to the Nassau airport. Two hours, okay?"

"Don't disappoint me, bubeleh."

The phone clicked off.

She tried to relax but could not. She had bought time but how much? What would the next call be? Who would be at her door? Room service or assassins? She had tried running away from her problems but now knew she would have to face them.

I cannot live like this.

-44-.

At Long Last . . . Pravda Victoria drove past the Hostetler Pretzel and Chips plant near downtown Lancaster. The building had to be a hundred years old. Three stories of red brick. Some of the mortar had turned mossy green, but the place gave an impression of solidity and strength. She remembered something Jake had said about constructing a legal defense.

"One brick at a time. Place the brick exactly in line with the one next to it. Smooth the mortar to the same depth each time. It takes a while to build a wall."

Gerald Hostetler's forebears had doubtless laid the bricks straight enough for the building-and the business-to last a century.

She had spent the night in a hotel near the Philadelphia airport, then hit the road at 8:00 a.m., piloting her rental Ford Fusion to Lancaster County. A straight shot west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, then a short drive on US 222, and she was in the small city that dated from before the Revolutionary War. She stopped at a farmer's market downtown for a glazed donut and coffee.

Now she eased the Ford into the pretzel factory employee parking lot. Windows down, she smelled the dough baking. Spotted a marked spot for "G. Hostetler."

Empty.

She'd been hoping the spot was filled, that Gerald was at work, and Nadia at his house alone, arranging flowers or whatever.

She drove off, using the rental car's GPS to find Hostetler's home. It only took ten minutes to get there. A clean, quiet neighborhood. The house was two stories of stone with bright-green shutters and two chimneys. Probably old fireplaces. No car in the brick driveway. But there were three days' worth of newspapers.

Damn.

They were out of town, and no way to tell when they would return.

Victoria wondered, What would Jake do?

Empty house. Quiet neighborhood. Probably walk around the back and jimmy open a window.

Then she wondered, What would Steve do?

Something involving deception, she figured.

She went with Steve and picked up her cell phone.

"Hostetler Pretzels and Chips," said the chirpy voice on the phone. "This is Edna."

"This is Margaret Lee at the Sheetz store over in Mechanicsburg," Victoria said. "Is Mr. H there?" Thinking "Mr. H" would be just the right touch of familiar but not overly so.

"Not yet," Edna said. "We're expecting him around noon."

Great.

"Anything I can do to help?" Edna asked.

"I'll just call back. Love your extra dark pretzels, by the way."

"Thank you kindly. We bake 'em a tad longer. Hard as heck not to burn 'em."

Victoria looked at her watch: 11:10 a.m. She drove half a block and pulled up to the curb in the shade of a pine tree. Rolled down the windows, killed the engine, and took in the scent of the pine needles warmed by the summer sun. She kept her eyes on the Hostetler house in the sun-visor mirror.

Twenty minutes later, a gray Buick Lacrosse pulled into the driveway.

Yes, Gerald would be a Buick man. A V-8, if they still made them.

Feeling like a shady PI, Victoria watched as Hostetler, in khakis and a blue polo, exited the driver's door and hustled around to open the passenger door.

Chivalry is not dead in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

As he held the door open, two long legs stepped out. The rest of Nadia Delova followed. She wore a bright floral sundress, tight in the bodice with a swingy skirt and strappy summer sandals. Hostetler popped the trunk and removed two overnight bags. Ever the gentleman, he rolled the luggage to the front door, where Nadia was already waiting. He unlocked the door and placed both bags inside. They stood there a moment, talking.

Then he took Nadia in both arms and kissed her. A long, slow, loving kiss, his left hand cradling the back of her head, her long dark hair cascading over her bare shoulders.

The kiss lasted long enough for Victoria to contemplate the length of time it had been since Steve had kissed her like that. Well, before he was jailed, of course. But truth be told, some time before that. Three months? Six months? She couldn't remember.

Why don't I know? Was it something I've pushed out of my mind?

So much to work on with Steve . . . if we can keep him out of prison.

The long, soulful kiss turned into an even longer hug, the two of them gripping each other, as if they couldn't bear to part from say . . . lunchtime to dinner.

Victoria found herself filled with a longing for Steve-the old Steve-and filled with jealousy, too. What a jumble of emotions.

I'm jealous of a fugitive who's in love with a pretzel baker.

Finally, the couple untangled. Hostetler gave Nadia a last quick kiss, headed back to his waiting Buick, and drove away. Yes, he'd be at the plant by noon. Victoria figured Gerald Hostetler was not a man to be late.

Victoria waited five minutes, then walked to the house and rang the bell.

Nadia opened the door a moment later, a puzzled expression crossing her face.

"Da?" she said.

"Nadia, I'm Victoria Lord. We spoke on the phone."

Nadia's hand flew up to her mouth. "I told you not to call me again!"

But she made no move to close the door.

"We should talk, for your own good," Victoria said.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard. And if I could do it . . ."

"I know. The government. Alex Gorev. Benny."

Nadia shot worried looks up and down the street, then grabbed Victoria's arm and pulled her inside, quickly closing and locking the door. She led Victoria into a large living room with traditional furnishings. An overstuffed sofa, chairs with carved wooden legs, and an oak coffee table with old-fashioned drawers. Nadia pulled the drapes closed and motioned toward one of the chairs.

"You sit. I will make tea."

In five minutes she returned with an ornamental teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of lemon cookies. The Bar girl had quickly become domesticated, Victoria thought.

Pouring the tea, Nadia said, "In a way, I am glad you are here. You are a needed reminder of the real world I have been avoiding. Since coming here, I have been living in a dream."

"Love will do that," Victoria said, "but the world always finds a way in."

"What should I do?"

Victoria sipped the tea. "Have you told Gerald the truth?"

"Only that I have an immigration problem. Which is like saying it gets a little cool in Siberia. The sweet man thinks everything will be solved by his marrying me. That I'll get green card. He doesn't know I face prison, then deportation."

"I relate to how you feel. Your fear of losing the man you love."

"Of course you relate. You are in love with Solomon."

"We are both afraid of losing the light of our lives." Victoria felt silly saying it. A soap opera cliche. But she meant it, and she thought Nadia would respond to the emotional overload.

"Exactly!"

Victoria nibbled at a cookie and decided to plunge ahead. "Perhaps I can help you with your problems in Miami. But you must tell Gerald everything."

Nadia sighed. "What a test that will be for him. Of his love for me, I mean."

"I watched him kiss you. I think he will pass that test."

"I can hope."

"You will need a lawyer in Miami," Victoria said.

"Can you represent me?"

"I have a conflict of interest because of Steve's case, but I can find someone to help."

"I will trust you, then. Do you know about the diamonds in Alex Gorev's safe?"

"Benny's. You stole them."

"Will they prosecute me for that?"

"It depends what information you have to trade. To make a deal, you'll have to be honest with the government. Do you have information that ties Benny Cohen to diamond smuggling?"

"Da. I know plenty."

"Does it have anything to do with Aeroflot 100?"

"Everything." Nadia gave Victoria a knowing smile. "But before we talk about that, you didn't come here just to help me. You want to know what I will say if the government makes me testify in Solomon's case."

"Yes."

"But do you really want the truth? Pravda?"

"Yes. At long last, pravda. The truth, Nadia."

"Is simple story. I paid Solomon to help me get my passport and back pay. I told Nicolai I was quitting to get married, and he laughed at me. Then I made a mistake. I told him I would not be part of his wire fraud and money laundering and racketeering. He knew those were not my words. That they had come from the government."

"Then what?"

"Take off your dress!" Gorev orders.

"I have taken off my clothes for you for the last time."

"I am not going to screw you. I am looking for wire."

"Nicolai, I would never-"

"Are you working for the government or for the jeweler?"

"I work for you only."

"Nadia, my little Nadia. Why?"

She pulls a Glock nine millimeter from her purse and aims it at Gorev with both hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Solomon says.