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Dragov worked in his hotel room, drawing up lists of the material and information he required, the men he still needed to recruit. There was a hesitant knock at the door. It was repeated. Dragov spun around, reaching for his gun. There was only one entrance to the hotel. Zoltan should have been watching, should have warned him, but the radio on his desk was silent. He took up position by the door against the wall.
"Who's out there?" he shouted, his nerves still raw.
"Kathy," a voice replied.
Dragov let the gun drop to his side and opened the door.
"Hi," Kathy said shyly. "I guess I haven't heard from you in a while and I wasn't doing us any good in Paris."
She tried to smile, her shoulders hunched against rejection. Dragov knew then how much he had missed her: all he wanted to do now was take her in his arms and hug her, but he couldn't risk her being here. She glanced up, hoping for a welcome. There was a stony expression on Dragov's strong face.
"How did you find me?"
"Tom Dade."
He was blocking the doorway. She squeezed past him into the room. "I thought I could be of some use to you," she said defiantly. "I know more about Dragov than you do." She knew that Dragov never betrayed any emotion unless he wanted to. He was so inhumanly self-controlled, so strong within, and she felt so vulnerable....
She looked around her. The room was small and bare, unlived in. She couldn't see anything of Dragov's there and it scared her, as if she had lost him.
"Kathy, you shouldn't have come," Dragov said.
"Why should I wait in Paris? I kept thinking that something had happened to you. I'm as much part of this rescue as you and Zoltan," she said hotly. "I've got a right to be here."
"This isn't Paris, it's not safe for you. I can't let you stay."
She had lost him, he was back to his old unreachable self.
"O.K.," Kathy said bitterly. "You've made your point. Do you want me to leave now or do I get a few more seconds? It's late and I'll have to find someplace to stay."
The radio bleeped impatiently, a signal that Zoltan wanted to talk. Dragov cursed the interruption, crossed the room, and switched it on.
"Yes," he said shortly.
Zoltan ignored him. "Hi, Kathy," he said, his husky voice warm and drowsy with hashish. "How are you, girl? Been watching you in the street."
Kathy felt embarrassed, knowing that he would have seen her walking up and down outside the hotel, trying to muster the courage to go in.
"How's the bastard treating you?"
Kathy glanced at Dragov, then pushed down the radio transmitter button.
"Like a bastard," she said, trying to keep the pain out of her voice.
"Forgive me for not warning you about him," Zoltan said sympathetically. "He needs me to keep him alive and look how he treats me, like a dog." He breathed heavily, sulkily. "I tell you, Kathy, one day he'll turn his back on a Russian or one of you Americans and I won't be there and he'll be dead and it will be his damned fault."
"Where are you, Zoltan?" Kathy asked, warming to him as a fellow sufferer.
"In a room across the street."
"Can't you come over?"
"No," Dragov interrupted them. "He has to stay where he is, he's working."
Dragov reached over and switched the radio off. Then he steeled himself against all weakness.
"Right," he ordered Kathy, making for the door.
A bullet from the Dragunov sniper's rifle came at such velocity that it made only a neat hole in the window pane and net curtain and went straight through the table to bury itself in the corner between the brickwork and the concrete. It narrowly missed Kathy and Dragov. The shockwaves set up by its passing stunned them both for a moment. Then Dragov, reacting instinctively, threw Kathy down and switched out the light. He pushed her under the narrow bed and crawled in after her. She clung tightly to him. Silence descended and then the radio beeped angrily. It had been knocked off the table and fallen to the floor.
Dragov reached out cautiously and turned it on.
"Listen, you shithead," Zoltan's voice came through, angry and menacing. "Don't you ever switch me off like that again, you hear me?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you crazy son of a bitch?" Dragov yelled back furiously. "You might have killed us!"
"I sit up here in the dark all the time, all by myself and when I want to talk you just switch me off," Zoltan said sullenly. "Well, let me tell you, you bastard, you do that again and I won't miss, I'll shoot your fucking ass off. Kathy," he went on, "you O.K.?"
"Good," Zoltan said, calming down. "I wouldn't want to hurt you, but if that bastard gives you any more trouble, tell me and I'll shoot his fucking ass off."
"Sure," Kathy said happily, still partially in a state of shock.
"Right," Zoltan said and the radio went dead.
Kathy turned her head to Dragov, biting her lip to keep from laughing, her gray-blue eyes shining.
"Who's in danger now?" she said. "I've got friends."
Dragov felt himself relax.
"Yes," he had to agree, and he cursed Zoltan. She felt so good lying there next to him that he knew he wasn't going to be able to let her go.
In the morning when Dragov came out of the bathroom, he found Kathy dressed and waiting. She knew he had work to do and she wanted to show him that she wouldn't slow him down.
"O.K.," she said, using an efficient businesslike voice. "Where to first?"
"Nowhere," Dragov said. "I've got someone I have to see and I can't take you with me. You go shopping, amuse yourself today, I'll be back late this evening."
Kathy was very hurt. "Look," she flared, "I didn't come all this way just to sleep with you, I came to help rescue Mischa Barton. I care about that woman, I thought you understood. I want to be involved."
"Listen to me," Dragov said, now coldly angry. "For you and your brother Michael, this may be some crazy romantic crusade, but for me, this is business, a business that I have to give my full attention to if I want to stay alive. I don't want people thinking they can hurt me through you. Do you understand that? I want you out of here before any trouble starts." He took the radio from his pocket and switched it on. "Zoltan, is the street clear?"
"Yes," Zoltan answered. "It's clear. There's been nobody on the streets, no smell of their soldiers since the meeting."457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPmNpEqYmDf
"What meeting?" Kathy asked.
"A meeting."
"Listen, I'm a partner."
"No, you are not."
"Then I'm your boss. I have rights." She immediately wished she hadn't said that. Dragov was a proud man and she had needled his pride. He took her arm and the pressure of her grip hurt her wrist.
"You hold my contract," he confirmed dangerously, "but in the field, I make the choices. I'll try to rescue Mischa Barton from Pescadero, beyond that there are no rights, for either of us, just survival."
He walked out of the room. 457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1h7E1bQaDf
