"The Russians intercepted Levka's boat three weeks ago, towed it to Anapa. Two days later, he watched as a yacht transporter took the Subito Subito aboard, lashed it down under a tarp, and steamed out into the Black Sea. According to Earl Ford, Turkish authorities had cleared a Kerch-bound yacht transporter to transit the Bosphorus seven days before. There aren't many yacht transporters going into the Black Sea. None in over a month. This transporter was called the aboard, lashed it down under a tarp, and steamed out into the Black Sea. According to Earl Ford, Turkish authorities had cleared a Kerch-bound yacht transporter to transit the Bosphorus seven days before. There aren't many yacht transporters going into the Black Sea. None in over a month. This transporter was called the Novotny Ocean, Novotny Ocean, owned by a shipping conglomerate with offices in Athens, Ma.r.s.eilles, Bremen-" owned by a shipping conglomerate with offices in Athens, Ma.r.s.eilles, Bremen-"

"Northstar Logistics. Fast-forward, Micah, dear boy."

"The Turks pa.s.sed it back down down the Bosphorus fifteen days ago. No record was kept of the load. According to Lloyd's, the the Bosphorus fifteen days ago. No record was kept of the load. According to Lloyd's, the Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean is over three hundred feet long, has two Wartsila Vasa diesel engines, and can cruise at fifteen knots with a full load, faster with only one boat on board. It's eight hundred and fourteen klicks from Kerch to Istanbul-" is over three hundred feet long, has two Wartsila Vasa diesel engines, and can cruise at fifteen knots with a full load, faster with only one boat on board. It's eight hundred and fourteen klicks from Kerch to Istanbul-"

"Dear G.o.d, I need a drink-"

"You've got one."

"I need a real real drink." drink."

Dalton mixed her up a G & T, handed it over. She took a sip, shivered, set it down, leaned back, and artfully recrossed her legs, giving him an eyebrow as she did.

"That's not going to work," said Dalton, his face a little hot.

"Not immediately. Please, do do go on. I'm utterly transfixed." go on. I'm utterly transfixed."

"Another five hundred and forty-one from Istanbul to Athens. It cleared Greek customs and was logged into Piraeus Harbor twelve days ago. It was refueled and resupplied by the dock crew and left the next evening, declaring a course for Gibraltar. It's roughly twenty-six hundred klicks from Athens to Gibraltar-"

"We Brits just call it Gib-"

"Thank you for that, Mandy. At fifteen-"

"You're welcome."

"At fifteen knots per hour-"

"Do I get a prize if I guess this right?"

"Yes. At fifteen knots-"

"What sort of prize?"

"A kiss on any body part you care to name. At fifteen-"

Mandy named one.

Dalton took some time to refocus, but, being a trained professional, he managed. Mandy sipped at her G & T and felt rather good about her flirting skills. They were not in any way declining.

"At fifteen knots an hour," said Dalton, beginning again, "the Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean would reach Gib in eight days. Am I right?" would reach Gib in eight days. Am I right?"

"Actually, no, since a knot is a nautical mile, and a mile is longer than a kilometer. Say, to be safe, seven days. But what if this Novotny Novotny thingy wasn't really going to Gib?" thingy wasn't really going to Gib?"

"The IMO keeps a geostationary satellite over the Med. I don't think there's a body of water in the world, other than the Indian Ocean, where ships get tracked as carefully as in the Med. I think we can a.s.sume the Novotny Novotny was going to Gibraltar-" was going to Gibraltar-"

"Since it left Piraeus Harbor roughly ten days ago, we can a.s.sume it's already in in Gibraltar. We just don't-" Gibraltar. We just don't-"

"Know why why ?" ?"

"Yes," he said, picking up his gla.s.s. "We don't know why."

The bathroom door at the back of the Lear cracked open, and Levka, showered and shaved and wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket that he had borrowed from one of Captain Davit's sailors, came down the aisle, stopping at the bar to pour himself a large vodka. He wasn't moving very well, but he wasn't dead either. He came along to their seating area, sat down-carefully-beside Dalton, and lifted his gla.s.s to Mandy.

"You come to get me, Miss Mandy. I wish to say thank you! And to you, boss, I hope hope you will. But, even so, I never think I leave that place alive." you will. But, even so, I never think I leave that place alive."

"How are you feeling?" asked Mandy, looking at his bruised and battered face, at his general pastiness. Levka, when properly fed, had developed a kind black Lab aura, solid, friendly, a bit of a scoundrel but an honest scoundrel. She was sorry to see him looking so downcast.

"I am okay, Miss Mandy. I am not happy to lose boat. Was my business. My new life. Now is gone."

"Did the ship have one of those embedded GPS things?" asked Mandy. "The ones they hide in the hull somewhere?"

Levka looked a little shamefaced.

"Yes. But battery was dead, and I not getting around to fixing. Battery cost three hundred euros," he added by way of an explanation, looking down at his hands. "I am idiot. Boat gone."

"Maybe not. We have a rough idea where it is," said Dalton.

Levka brightened.

"Is true? How?"

Dalton nodded to Mandy.

"My father has a friend in Yalta," she said. "We were able to identify the boat that came to get the Subito Subito. The Blue Nile Blue Nile. Shipping records show it on a course for Gibraltar. We think it may be there now."

"In Gibraltar? But why?"

"Good question," said Dalton, offering him a Sobranie, which he lit and carefully placed between his battered lips, drawing the smoke in. From up in the c.o.c.kpit came a female voice, gently chiding, "Please, sir, there's no smoking on this jet."

Levka sighed, stubbed it out, looked out the window.

"Speak of no smoking," he said, "I hope they pumping out engine compartment every day."

"Why?"

"Sump is malfunction. Fumes always building up in engine area. Make you pretty sick, you go down there."

"Isn't that a fire hazard?" asked Dalton.

"No. Everything, all the electrics, are shielded. Fuses, breakers, wiring-all shielded good. No. No hazard there. But if you go down with cigarette in mouth, you come back up pretty fast. Only in little pieces. Along with rest of boat."

"Maintenance, Dobri," said Dalton, giving Levka a look. "You ever get it back, you need to take better care of that boat."

Levka sighed again, nodded.

"Sure will, boss. If I ever see it again. Where are we now?"

"Over the Dardanelles," said Dalton. "We'll be in Athens soon."

"What we going to do in Athens, boss?"

Dalton told him about Northstar Logistics, about their warehouse in Piraeus. "Vukov said Kirikoff was in Athens. If he is, that's where to start looking for him."

"You believe him? This Vukov?"

"It's the only lead we've got. And the Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean logged in there twelve days ago. So it's a good place to start." logged in there twelve days ago. So it's a good place to start."

"Okay, boss. Work for me."

"I have a question," said Mandy. Levka drank some vodka, wincing as the alcohol stung his lips. "Please, miss."

"Why are you alive, Dobri? Why didn't Vukov kill you?"

Levka shrugged, pulled his lips down-a very Italian gesture.

"I am not knowing. I am glad. But not knowing."

"He beat you pretty badly. What was that for?"

"He want to know about boss," he said, looking over at Dalton and then back to Mandy. "Where he live. His work. How me and the boss got into work together. He know about Istanbul, about Mr. Galan . . . Sorry about him, boss . . . Anyway, I say I know nothing. He beat me. I pa.s.s out. He wake me up. We start again. After time, I forget who I am . . ."

"But he kept you alive," said Dalton. "He must have needed you for something. Needed you alive, at any rate."

"Yes," said Mandy. "And they needed his boat."

"Yes," said Levka. "My boat . . ."

He fell silent, staring out at the water.

"I forget a lot while with Vukov. But it come back a little. Anybody see cell phone in that place? In Anapa? Red Motorola Krzr? MP3 player? Very nice."

"We didn't look that hard," said Dalton. "But I'd say no. It wasn't with what was left of your clothes, and they'd all been shredded to bits. We gathered what we could, but people were coming. We left in a hurry. Just got off the beach when a cop car pulled up at the back of the place."

"No Krzr phone?"

"No."

"Then maybe is not dream. When Russians show up-two patrol boats, sirens going-we are to stop engines and be boarded. I try to call out on ship radio but only get static. They jam the radio, I think. Boss, you remember engine room in Istanbul where we find Kissmya.s.s, the KGB guy?"

"Yes. In the pilot's cabin, there's trapdoor in the deck that leads down to the engine compartment. He was hiding there."

"Yes. He had cell phone, remember? So do I. I think, Okay, hide in engine compartment like Kissmya.s.s, make call to Bogdan, tell him what is happening. This I do. I go down in engine room, close hatch. I making call when hatch open up. Sailors are there, Russkies. I fight. I think I drop the phone in engine room. I think may still be there."

"Did that phone have a GPS function?" asked Dalton.

"Yes. Maybe if we-"

"More than three weeks ago," said Mandy. "The battery would have died after a couple of days."

"No. I set to shut down if not using. Shut-off time sixty minutes."

"Dobri," said Dalton, letting him down easy, "The GPS function wouldn't work if the cell phone is turned off."

Levka's face went slack, and then he rallied.

"Can we turn back on? From remote?"

"It was a Krzr?" asked Dalton. "A Motorola?"

"Yes. Very fine."

Dalton worked that through, found a trace memory.

"Motorola phones can't be totally powered down unless you remove the battery. It's . . . I have heard that it may be possible to download software that might . . . might might . . . allow you to turn the phone back on. I know the FBI figured out how to turn a cell-phone . . . allow you to turn the phone back on. I know the FBI figured out how to turn a cell-phone mike mike on even when the unit wasn't being used. They used that trick on the Genovese family. And I know the NSA have been refining that stunt for years. Yes. If the battery isn't totally flat, you on even when the unit wasn't being used. They used that trick on the Genovese family. And I know the NSA have been refining that stunt for years. Yes. If the battery isn't totally flat, you might might be able to do that." be able to do that."

"And that would tell us where the Subito Subito is?" asked Mandy. is?" asked Mandy.

"As long as it's in a covered area, down to the nearest tower."

That was a comforting thought, and they drank to it again, then fell into a weary silence. The Lear hurtled through the deep blue, and the gentle rise and fall of the jet put them all to sleep.

They woke a while later as the Lear began a slow bank, six sunlit ovals sliding across the cabin bulkhead, the liquid in their gla.s.ses slanting a couple of degrees.

The pilot's voice came on the radio, another soft feminine voice. Apparently, all of Poppy's pilots were female.

"We're beginning our approach to Ellinikon Airport in Athens, Miss Pownall," she said with a crisp British accent. "Would your guests mind getting ready to land?"

DESCENDING in a smooth glide through the afternoon smog of coastal Athens, the Learjet touched down at Ellinikon at a few minutes after three, being redirected by Traffic Control to that part of the seaside airport reserved for private corporate jets. The Lear slowly taxied past a row of other small jets-a Gulfstream, another Lear, a Cessna. They rolled past a small, sleek number with the blue-and-white flag of Israel on her tail. Dalton took note, stiffening. in a smooth glide through the afternoon smog of coastal Athens, the Learjet touched down at Ellinikon at a few minutes after three, being redirected by Traffic Control to that part of the seaside airport reserved for private corporate jets. The Lear slowly taxied past a row of other small jets-a Gulfstream, another Lear, a Cessna. They rolled past a small, sleek number with the blue-and-white flag of Israel on her tail. Dalton took note, stiffening.

The plane rocked to a stop, the hatch popped open, and they sat there for a while as the heat of Athens poured into the cabin, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea and the reek of jet fuel and diesel fumes. A customs official checked their pa.s.sports, not very carefully, bored to tears, and welcomed them all to Athens. Technically, he welcomed Mandy Pownall's b.r.e.a.s.t.s to Athens, since that was where he was looking as he said this. He then was gone, his boots clanking down the aluminum steps, the papers on his clipboard fluttering in a hot wind off the Aegean Sea.

Mandy and Dalton, with Levka trailing them, falling back into his role as their majordomo, insisting on carrying all the luggage, walked across the tarmac toward the cab stands. Mandy was fighting to keep her skirt under some sort of control. Dalton was staring rather intently at a small party of three that was walking more or less in the same direction: a slender, deeply tanned young man in slacks and a sports shirt, a large, bearlike man in jeans and a loud parrot-print shirt, and an attractive young woman with auburn hair, also having trouble with her skirt.

Dalton stopped, went back to Levka. He reached into his luggage and pulled out the Colt Anaconda, held it down at his side.

"Mandy," he said, stepping in front of her, "that's Joko Levon over there. He's Mossad."

Mandy looked over, saw the large man in the parrot shirt. He was now looking right at them. And the smaller man with him had stopped as well. The auburn-haired woman walked on, not yet noticing the developing confrontation. Dalton watched as Joko stepped forward. Joko seemed to be reaching into his belt. Dalton lifted the Colt. He heard someone shouting, a woman's voice, from across the landing strip.

"Micah, no. Don't-"

Dalton had his sight zeroed in on Joko's belly. The younger man with him had drawn a small pistol. Joko had his arms straight out at his sides, shaking his big s.h.a.ggy head. Mandy put her hand on his gun arm, pulling it gently down.

"Micah, no. That's Nikki Turrin."