“I know where it is,” Stratton snapped. “And I don’t need any help to go pick up your husband. I want you to stay here with Rich where you’ll be safe.” He zipped up his coat and stepped toward the door.

“Damn it,” Zoe cursed as she stepped between Stratton and the door. “I’m going to see him and you’re not going to stop me from that. I’m not a piece of baggage you can just order around as you like.”

Stratton glanced at Cartiere, who stood waiting for directions, then returned his gaze to Zoe.

“I could have Rich detain you until I come back,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want to do that to him. There’s no telling what you might do.” He turned once again to Cartiere. “Get your coat,” he said. “I’d rather tangle with the KGB than argue with her.”

Stratton motioned Zoe to one side as he opened the door into the hallway and peered out.

“It’s empty,” Stratton said, then looked at Zoe. “This might be dangerous. I want you to promise me you’ll follow my orders quickly and without questioning me.”

Zoe nodded her head, knowing her assent was the price she must pay to see Seth. She stepped into the hallway, followed closely by Cartiere. She’d make up her own mind when and where to follow Stratton’s orders. Cartiere had just closed the door to the suite when the telephone began ringing.

“Hurry up!” Zoe urged Cartiere, as he fumbled for his key. “It might be Seth again.”

The telephone rang a third time and then a fourth. On the fifth ring, Cartiere opened the door and Zoe rushed toward the phone on the bedside table.

She snatched the receiver from its cradle. “Hello?” There was no answer.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” She slammed down the receiver. “Damn. Damn. Damn,” she cursed. “Too late.” She stood by the telephone for a moment.

“Let’s go,” Stratton called from the hall. She and Cartiere rushed to join him.

KGB Colonel Molotov smiled broadly as he replaced the receiver of the house phone quietly on its cradle. “She’s there,” he said to the three men standing at his side. “You.” Molotov indicated the driver of the car. “Follow me up the stairway.” He turned to the other two. “Take the elevator and wait for us there.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Molotov bounded up the thickly carpeted stairs, the pain from his head wounds temporarily forgotten.

Rich Cartiere felt the running footsteps through the soles of his feet. “Hold it,” he said in a stage whisper as he blocked Zoe and Stratton’s advance with one of his massive arms. He pulled up a Mini-Uzi from his shoulder holster and flattened himself against the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Stratton asked as he flattened himself against the stairwell wall and motioned to Zoe to do the same.

“Footsteps,” Cartiere said. “Running … from below.” Stratton paused to listen.

“Maybe it’s children playing?” Stratton said. “I don’t hear—”

“Children play noisily,” Cartiere said. “We should hear more than footsteps.”