The men nodded.

“Let us proceed.”

65

Boryspil International Airport, near Kiev, Ukraine

Danny dropped a pair of bills on the front seat of the cab and hopped out, holding his small carryon bag under his arm as if it were a football. He had ten minutes to make the gate for his flight to Prague.

Impossible at most U.S. airports, even at this early hour. But the security at Kiev was extremely efficient—or incredibly lax, depending on your point of view. There were six different stations to handle the very light traffic, and the guards barely glanced at the X-ray screen as he tossed his bag on the conveyer belt. He stepped through the detector quickly, grabbed the bag, and trotted toward the gate where his plane to Prague was boarding.

He reached it just as the attendant was extending the rope. She smiled when she saw him, pulling it back as he held up his pass and ticket. She grabbed the printout, ripped it in half, and waved him through.

There were plenty of empty seats on the plane. Danny had his entire row to himself. He pushed his bag into the overhead compartment, then sat down and pulled out his sat phone and MY-PID ear set, wanting to check in with Washington to see what was going on.

He also wanted to talk to Zen, though he’d undoubtedly still be sleeping.

Nuri first.

Danny pushed an earphone into his right ear, then held the sat phone over it, pretending he was using the phone.

“Update on Nuri Lupo,” he asked the system.

“Lupo’s current status is undetermined.”

“Connect me with him.”

A few seconds passed.

“This is Nuri,” answered the CIA officer in a raspy voice. “Danny?”

“Are you OK?”

“Just barely. Two guys tried to bury me alive. They got away with a box. I’m pretty sure it belonged to the doctor. I don’t know what’s in it. I’m sorry—I’ll figure out where they went.”

“Get yourself checked out.”

“I’m fine.”

“Get some sleep at least.”

“I’m fine. Where are you going?”

“I’m playing a hunch in Prague.” Danny glanced around. The plane was moving. “You’ll have to get the whole story from Hera.”

“All right.”

Danny looked up to see the attendant walking toward him. The man wagged his finger.

“I gotta go,” he told Nuri.

“I’m sorry, sir, but cell phones must be turned off,” said the attendant. His English was thick with an accent that sounded Russian to Danny, but was actually Ukrainian.

Danny made a show of hitting the End transmit button. He pulled the phone down into his lap. Then, with the attendant behind him, he tapped out a text message to send to Zen.

ON WAY 2 PRAGUE. BE VERY, VERY CAREFUL. POS GRAVE DNGR. WILL EXPLAIN WHN ABLE.

—DNY

“Sir?”

“Just making sure it’s turned off,” said Danny, smiling apologetically. “Sometimes you have to hit it a second time and even a third. The button is kind of screwed up.”

The attendant scowled, then pointed to his headset.

“Your iPod, too.”

“Up, everything’s off,” said Danny, pulling the ear set from his ear. “We can take off any time you want.”

“Thank you for permission,” said the man sarcastically, going back up the aisle.

66

Over Austria

“We’re about an hour from touchdown, ma’am,” the C–20 steward told Breanna, waking her. “You wanted me to let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

Breanna pushed her seat back upright. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly five. Her early-rising husband and daughter were probably already up and on their way to breakfast.

Should she call them?

She’d love to talk to Teri.

Given all the travel, Teri would probably still be sleeping. Zen, though—he’d be on the prowl for coffee and the latest news.

No, she decided. Let it be a real surprise.

67

Old State Castle, Czech Republic

Zen never slept well when he was traveling. It wasn’t so much the time differences or jet lag as the fact that Breanna wasn’t with him. Feeling her body next to him at night relaxed him in a way he had never been able to explain in words, not even to her.

He pushed upright in bed and reached for the light, getting his bearings. Teri was sleeping with Caroline in the adjoining room. His wheelchair was just to his left. He leaned over and grabbed it, pulling it into position so he could ease into it. He rolled to the bathroom, shifting his weight subtly to cross the piece of marble at the threshold.

It was funny. The bathroom and its fixtures were arranged to make it easier for someone with a handicap—once inside, there was more than enough room for his chair, and the toilet was at an almost perfect height. Whoever had designed the room had given it a great deal of thought. But the plank of marble at the threshold was a full two inches high—a ridiculous barrier for a wheelchair.

When he’d first lost the use of his legs, annoyances like that bothered him greatly. Now he just shook his head.

There was a small coffeemaker on the counter. He set it up, started the water through, then ran the water to shave.

The coffee was coffee in only the most theoretical sense—it was black and liquid. He took two sips and decided he would do without the benefits of caffeine until he could get downstairs to the café.

He dressed casually, pulling on his favorite gray sweatshirt—a Nike shirt with a pancaked microfiber fabric that was thin yet very warm. The sleeves were a little frayed, and one of the elbows showed signs that his arm would soon poke through, but it was the most comfortable thing he owned.

Breanna would be scandalized if she knew he was wearing it in public. But she wasn’t here to give him the hairy eyeball of wifely disapproval. He’d told the girls they’d get up around seven—plenty of time, he figured, for them to recover from the trip. He didn’t want to wake them, but he also didn’t want to go without coffee for two hours. So he tucked his laptop next to his legs and went down to see if the cafeteria was open.

There was an attendant at the elevator, an older man dressed in an army uniform. He stood at full attention as Zen approached, stepping to the side though there was ample room for Zen to get in.