“You tried to bite my toes.”

He seemed confused, but then he understood that I was crazy and he was fucked. But he was a smart guy so he called my bluff and said, “If you allow me to call my attorney, I will accompany you to your headquarters.” He added, “I have done nothing wrong.”

Well, I didn’t have time to go to 26 Fed, and I certainly didn’t want to be there when the building disappeared in a nuclear firestorm. But apparently that was not a concern for Georgi Tamorov. I could deduce, therefore, that Mr. Tamorov had no idea what his three U.N. guests were up to tonight. Or I could conclude that Colonel Petrov and his pals were not up to anything. But I think I was past that point. I was believing the unbelievable, and thinking the unthinkable.

I said to him, “You understand this is about Colonel Petrov.”

He understood that, though he’d hoped it was about prostitutes, unlicensed guns, and expired visas. He seemed a bit uneasy now, so this was the time to reveal the true nature of the suspect and of the crimes under investigation.

I said, “As I’m sure you know, Vasily Petrov is not actually a Human Rights delegate to the United Nations. He is an SVR colonel, and a killer.”

No response.

I continued, “We have information that he is in this country to do harm, which is why we followed him from the Russian Mission to here.” Actually, we follow everyone, but that was none of his business. I asked Tamorov, “Why was Petrov here?”

He realized that he needed to answer at least the easy questions and he replied, “For the party.”

“Why did you invite him?”

“I… he is an acquaintance.”

“How do you know him?”

“He was introduced to me… at a United Nations reception.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Maybe your wife will remember.”

“By our U.N. ambassador.”

“Did your ambassador mention that Vasily Petrov was an SVR assassin?”

“Of course not—”

“Or that his father, Vladimir, was a KGB general, and the head of SMERSH?”

“I did not know that.”

“So I know more than you do?”

“It is no business of mine who this man is. That is your business.”

“Do you understand the legal concept of guilt by association?”

No reply.

“You could be looking at twenty years in jail.”

“I know nothing about this man.”

“Bullshit. He’s your friend.”

“We are acquaintances.” He added, “We are compatriots.”

“No, you are co-conspirators in a criminal conspiracy to do harm to the United States.”

“No.”

“Maybe thirty years.” He was on the run now, and I pressed on. “We’ll seize all your assets in America and around the world. Your wife will be shopping at Kmart, and your kids will be waiting on tables in the Russian Tea Room.”

He knew this was part bluff, but he didn’t know which part.

He insisted, “I know nothing about this man.” He also reminded me, “Colonel Petrov is a United Nations delegate vetted by your country—”

“And I’m Santa Claus.” I said to Tess, “Get a car and we’ll take Mr. Tamorov to 26 Fed.”

She glanced at me, knowing we weren’t going to 26 Fed, and we’d already seen that Mr. Tamorov didn’t wet his pants when I told him I was taking him to Lower Manhattan. So Tess understood she was supposed to say something clever, and she said to me, “I think we can resolve this here if Mr. Tamorov cooperates.”

“He’s an asshole.” I told her, “Cuff him.”

She actually didn’t have any cuffs, so she said, “Let me talk to him.”

I glanced at my watch and said, “Five minutes.”

Tess leaned forward and pushed the cigarettes and lighter toward Tamorov, who hesitated, glanced at me, then took a cigarette and lit up.

Tess assured him, “If you are cooperative, and if we can determine by your answers that you have no knowledge of Colonel Petrov’s illegal activities in America, then you are free to remain here, at liberty, subject to further interviews with your lawyer present.”

Not bad for an intelligence officer.

She asked him, “Do you understand?”

He nodded.

She got down to business and asked, “Who were the two men who arrived here with Colonel Petrov?”

Tamorov guessed correctly that we must know the answer to this, and that in any case he should know who his guests were, so he was quick to reply. “They are Petrov’s U.N. colleagues. One is Viktor Gorsky and the other is Pavel Fradkov.”

Also known as Dr. Arkady Urmanov, a suitcase nuke guy. But I was fairly sure Tamorov didn’t know this. And if I’d told him that his three compatriots had sailed off to obliterate his Manhattan real estate along with Mrs. Tamorov, he’d be shocked. You can reveal some stuff to a witness or even a suspect, but you don’t give them sensitive information, so Tess didn’t mention nuking New York.

Tess asked him, “Where did that amphibious craft come from?”

“I do not know.”

“You know it came from a ship. And that it was going back to the ship. And you knew the amphibious craft was coming. I saw that you knew.”

He looked at both of us, and I was sure he was pissed off at Colonel Petrov, the pro, for not getting on to us and getting rid of us.

“Mister Tamorov?”

“Petrov told me that he had a party to go to.”

“Whose party?”

“He did not say. But he mentioned East Hampton.”

I said to Tamorov, “We’ve already checked this out. There has been no sighting of an amphibious craft filled with Russian hookers anywhere on the east end of Long Island.” I assured him, “Someone would have noticed.”

Tamorov shrugged. “I am telling you what he told me.”

I said to him, “We know that Petrov sailed out to a ship at sea.” I suggested, “Tell me about that.”

“I have no knowledge of that.”

“Did he tell you when he intended to return here?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Can you call him?”

“I do not have his cell phone number.”

“When we find your cell phone, we’ll see if that’s true.”

No reply.

“Okay, so you invited him to your party, provided him with a dozen prostitutes to take with him to another party, and you don’t have his cell phone number. Is that right?”

Tamorov thought about this, then replied, “Petrov is a man of few words and he shares very little.”

“You need better friends.”

“He is not my friend.”

I nodded to Tess and she continued, “I know that Colonel Petrov is fond of alcoholic beverages. But tonight, neither I nor this gentleman nor anyone served him a drink.” She asked, “Why is that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well then, I’ll tell you—because he and Gorsky and Fradkov wanted to remain sober because they are on a mission tonight. A mission to inflict harm to my country.”

Tamorov looked a little uncomfortable, and he replied, “I assumed they were… saving themselves for the other party. Yes. In fact, Gorsky said that.”

I interjected, “Bullshit.”

Tamorov was in a tough position, wanting to be cooperative enough to get us out of his house, and at the same time not saying anything that Colonel Vasily Petrov of the SVR would disapprove of if and when they met again. Tamorov was not protecting Petrov; he was protecting his own life. And that was the problem. Petrov kills.

I said, “Look, Georgi, you and I both know who Petrov is and I’m really sensitive to your concerns. But I want to assure you that I will take care of Colonel Petrov.”

He looked at me and asked, “And will you also take care of the entire SVR?”

He had a valid point there, but I couldn’t help saying, “When you dance with the devil, Georgi, you’re going to get burned.”

He got what I was saying and replied, “One cannot always refuse the invitation of the devil.”

Right. Especially if you have relatives and oil wells in hell.

I told him what he already knew. “Colonel Petrov is not good for business.”

He gave me a half nod.

Tess returned to the topic and asked, “What was in the luggage they took with them?”