Caroline looked at him, but knew from experience that he didn’t want or need any help. The guide, unfortunately, didn’t, and came over and took the back of his chair.

“I’m all right,” said Zen, pushing the chair back a little too hard in annoyance. “It’s OK.”

“Daddy likes to drive himself,” said Teri.

“So I do, my princess,” said Zen. “Makes me feel like a king. Appropriate for a castle.”

Flustered, the guide started talking about the work the People had done on the castle.

Zen thought it was interesting the way she used the phrase “the People” instead of the government. On the one hand, it was a vestige from the old days of Communist party rule, still a sore subject for many Czechs. On the other, it was a reminder of who actually owned the country, and Zen couldn’t fault it.

Except for the communist connections, he’d recommend it for the U.S. He knew far too many supposed government servants, to say nothing of elected officials, who could use the reminder.

They moved on, down a ramp past a modern kitchen. It continued in a series of rectangular turns, leading them to a large stone room below the main hall.

“This is the dungeon, where prisoners were kept. And wine,” added the guide. “I’m not sure whether they really went together. You can see the chains still on the walls. And the old graffiti.”

Teri followed the guide, craning her neck toward the wrought-iron circles embedded in the stones.

“Uncle Jeff, I think Teri may be getting a little tired,” said Caroline. “Her eyes are droopy.”

“I think you’re right. We’re probably all good for an early bedtime. We’ll head over to the rooms after this,” he said. “Pretty interesting place, though, no?”

“It’s a little creepy,” said Caroline.

“You think?”

“This room especially. Can you imagine it before they took the wall away? There would have been no light. It would have been a horrible place to be held prisoner.”

“You do the crime, you pay the dime,” said Zen.

“Or if you disagree with the lord of the castle,” she added. “He was god, as far as the local peasants were concerned. If he didn’t like you, the chains went on.”

“That’s a point,” said Zen. “Though probably if you did something to really piss him off, he’d just have you killed. Why waste the space?”

53

Kiev, Ukraine

“There’s no question about it,” said Hera, pointing at the computer screen. It displayed an image of the interior of the large building the Wolves had used on the farm. “This part here resembles the interior of the ministry where the NATO meeting is to take place. Look at the access path they took.”

Hera superimposed a diagram of the meeting hall on the photo, then had the computer show the paths the Wolves had taken inside.

“There are gaps in the walls here and here,” said Danny. “Those aren’t on the Kiev building.”

“True, but notice that they don’t go through those spaces. And they ignore this part as well. They could have run something across the space to block it off so the radar wouldn’t pick it up. A simple rope or ribbon. They might have realized that they could be scanned, and disguised the layout. Or maybe it’s something generic that they adapted.”

Danny rubbed his fingers across his scalp, scratching a nonexistent itch. He was extremely tired—he hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and if you added the time he’d actually slept the week before, the total would have come in under twenty. He’d already had one go-pill, but wanted to avoid taking another. While the doctors claimed they weren’t addictive, he just didn’t like the idea.

“I think they must have been planning to stash those robotic helicopters in one of these warehouse buildings,” continued Hera. She pointed to a row of buildings eight-tenths of a kilometer away. “They would have a straight shot right across the roadway here. Go over this fence—or blow it up—and they’re there.”

McEwen stared at the screen pensively.

“You don’t think that’s the place?” Hera asked.

“Oh, I think it’s definitely the place,” said the older CIA officer. “But those helicopters wouldn’t have taken them very far, according to what your scientists said. They had to have some other place in mind.”

“I think we should check out the warehouses,” said Hera.

“And the airport,” said McEwen. “Because the airport is within range of the helicopters. So they get in them, fly to the airport, and leave from there.”

“The airport would be shut down,” answered Hera.

“In ten minutes? I doubt it. You could have a private plane ready to leave. Or even a helicopter.”

“We should check into all of that,” said Danny, trying but failing to suppress a yawn.

“I think one of us should get some rest,” said McEwen.

“I’m OK,” said Danny. He got up from the chair. “All right, so they’re at the airport and they have an airplane. Where would they go?”

“Over the border, back to Moldova,” said Hera.

“No, they’d want to keep the country as a safe haven,” said McEwen. “They’ve clearly worked from there before. They’re going to go somewhere safe.”

“They’re being followed,” said Danny, yawning again.

“They parachute out,” said Hera.

“I could see that,” said Danny. “But where?”

The possibilities were endless. Danny scaled back, suggesting that they have MY-PID check for leases and plane charters that might be suspicious.

“No offense to the computer,” said McEwen, “but don’t you think we’re better off doing the legwork ourselves?”

“The computer can find things we can’t,” said Danny.

“And vice versa.”

“All right,” Danny agreed. “Let’s do it both ways.”

“We’ll take care of it,” McEwen told him. “In the meantime, why don’t you get some rest?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Hera.

“Ganging up on me?” Danny smiled.

“Your eyes are like slits, Colonel,” said McEwen. “I hate to be the one to say this, but you really do need your rest. There’s no substitute.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said sarcastically.

She frowned.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m off to bed. Wake me if you find anything important.”

54

Northwestern Moldova

Nuri was hungry as well as tired, and since it was dinnertime, the first place he stopped when he got to the village was the café. The hostess acted as if he was an old friend when he came in, taking him to the table at the front with great ceremony. Her tray of cordials quickly followed.

“Too tired to drink,” he said.

“No, no, tired good. Pep you up.”

Maybe he would have a drink, he decided. He felt pretty wound up, too keyed up to sleep.

“You should have a drink with me,” Nuri suggested as she began setting out the bottles.