“Who are you?” Elena asked, her eyes straight ahead. “And why are you in my home?”

Sarah glanced up at the camera.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Elena. “Ivan is watching but not listening. I told him long ago I would never live in a house filled with microphones. And he swore to me he would never install them.”

“And you trust him?”

“On this matter, yes. Remember, microphones would pick up everyone’s voice, including Ivan’s. And their signals can also be intercepted by law enforcement agencies and intelligence services.” She paused. “I would have thought you would be aware of that. Who are you? And who do you work for?”

Sarah stared straight ahead at Gabriel’s immaculate brushstrokes. Under no circumstances are you to tell her your real name or occupation when you’re on hostile territory, he had said. Your cover is everything. Wear it like body armor, especially when you’re on Ivan’s turf.

“My name is Sarah Crawford. I work for the Dillard Center for Democracy in Washington. We met for the first time in the Cotswolds, when you purchased this painting by Mary Cassatt from my uncle.”

“Quickly, Sarah. We haven’t much time.”

“I’m a friend, Elena. A very good friend. I’m here to help you finish what you started. You have something you want to tell us about your husband. I’m here to listen.”

Elena was silent for a moment. “He’s quite fond of you, Sarah. Was it always your intention to seduce my husband?”

“I assure you, Elena, your husband has absolutely no interest in me.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because he’s brought his mistress into your house.”

Elena’s head turned sharply toward Sarah. “Who is she?”

“Yekatarina.”

“It’s not possible. She’s a child.”

“That child is staying in a suite at the Carlton Hotel. Ivan is paying her bills.”

“How do you know this?”

“We know, Elena. We know everything.”

“You’re lying to me. You’re trying to-”

“We’re not trying to do anything but help you. And the only lies we tell are the ones necessary to deceive Ivan. We haven’t lied to you, Elena, and we never will.”

“How do you know he’s seeing her?”

“Because we follow him. And we listen to him. Did you see those pearls she was wearing today?”

Elena gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“He gave those pearls to her in June when he went to Paris. You remember his trip to Paris, don’t you, Elena? You were in Moscow. Ivan said he needed to go for business. It was a lie, of course. He went there to see Yekatarina. He called you three times while he was in her apartment.You took the third call while you were having lunch with friends at Café Pushkin. We have a photograph if you’d like to see it.”

Elena was forced to absorb this news of her husband’s treachery with a tranquil smile-Ivan’s cameras were watching. Sarah was tempted to spare her the rest. She didn’t, more out of loathing for Ivan than any other reason.

“Yekatarina thinks she’s the only one, but she’s not. There’s a flight attendant called Tatyana. And there was a girl in London named Ludmila. I’m afraid Ivan treated her very badly. Eventually, he treats them all badly.”

Elena’s eyes filled with tears.

“You mustn’t cry, Elena. Ivan might be watching us. You have to smile while I tell you these awful things.”

Elena went to Sarah’s side, and their shoulders touched. Sarah could feel her trembling. Whether it was with grief or fear, she could not tell.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“It’s not important, Elena. It’s only important that you finish what you started.”

Elena laughed softly to herself, as though she found Sarah’s remark mildly amusing. Her gaze swept over the surface of the painting while her fingertips explored the texture of the faux craquelure.

“You had no right to pry into my private life.”

“We had no choice.”

Elena lapsed into silence. Sarah, for the moment, was listening to another voice.

Place the sales contract carefully before her and lay the pen next to it. But don’t pressure her into signing. She has to reach the decision on her own. Otherwise, she’s no use to us.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Elena said finally. “Even when he worked for the KGB. You might find this hard to believe, Sarah, but Ivan was really quite charming when I first met him.”

“I don’t find it hard to believe at all. He’s still quite charming.”

“When he wants to be.” She was still touching the craquelure. “When I first met Ivan, he told me he worked in some dreary Soviet agricultural office. A few weeks later, after we’d fallen in love, he told me the truth. I almost didn’t believe him. I couldn’t imagine this considerate, somewhat shy young man was actually locking dissidents away in mental hospitals and the gulag.”

“What happened?”

“The money happened. The money changed everything. It’s changed Russia, too. Money is the new KGB in Russia. Money controls our lives. And the pursuit of money prevents us from questioning the actions of our so-called democratic government.”

Elena reached toward the face of one of the children, the little boy, and stroked the cracks on his cheek.

“Whoever did this is quite good,” she said. “I assume you know him?”

“Very well, actually.” A silence, then: “Would you like to meet him?”

“Who is he?”

“It’s not important. It’s only important that you agree to see him. He’s trying to save innocent lives. He needs your help.”

Elena’s finger moved to the face of the other child. “How will we do it? Ivan sees everything.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to need to tell a small lie.”

“What kind of small lie?”

“I want you to spend the rest of the afternoon flirting with Mikhail,” Sarah said. “Mikhail will tell you everything you need to know.”

Sarah’s BlackBerry had one feature not available on over-the-counter models: the ability to encode and "squirt” data messages to a nearby receiver in less than a thousandth of a second. The message she transmitted early that evening was greeted with much celebration at the villa in Gassin. Gabriel immediately sent word to the Operations Desk at King Saul Boulevard and the Global Ops Center at CIA Headquarters in Langley. Then he gathered his team and began putting the final touches on the next phase of the operation. The small lie they were going to tell Ivan. The small lie to cover the much bigger one.

41 SAINT-TROPEZ, FRANCE

The storms had come down from the Maritime Alps after midnight and laid siege to Ivan Kharkov’s fortress on the Baie de Cavalaire. Elena Kharkov had not been awakened by the violent weather. Having endured two sleepless nights already, she had taken twice her normal dose of sedative. Now, she woke grudgingly and in stages, like a diver rising to the surface from a great depth. She lay motionless for some time, eyes closed, head throbbing, unable to recall her dreams. Finally, she reached blindly toward Ivan’s side of the bed and her hand caressed the warm supple form of a young girl. For an instant, she feared Ivan had been so audacious as to bring Yekatarina into their bed. Then she opened her eyes and saw it was only Anna. The child was wearing Ivan’s gold reading glasses and was scribbling with Ivan’s gold fountain pen on the back of some important business documents. Elena smiled in spite of her headache.

“Tell Maria to bring me a café au lait. A very large café au lait.”

“I’m very busy. I’m working, just like Papa.”

“Get me a coffee, Anna, or I’ll beat you severely.”

“But you never beat me, Mama.”

“It’s never too late to start.”

Anna scribbled stubbornly away.

“Please, Anna, I’m begging. Mama’s not feeling well.”

The child exhaled heavily; then, in a gesture that mimicked her father to perfection, she flung the papers and pen onto the nightstand in mock anger and threw aside the blanket. As she started to climb out of bed, Elena reached out suddenly and drew her tightly to her body.