"Good. Now we'll see what kind of stalling tactics Antonov will try. To begin with, he'll Do doubt demand to hold up payment until Lugovoy's experiment is a proven success. This we will not do. In the meantime, he'll have an army of KGB agents combing the American countryside, looking for the President and our laboratory facilities."

"No Russian or American will figure out where we have Lugovoy and his staff hidden," Lee Tong said firmly.

"They found the yacht," Min Koryo reminded him.

Before Lee Tong could reply, the vineo screen turned to snow as the tape played out. He set the control for rewind. "Do you wish to view it again?" he asked.

"Yes, I want to examine the diving crew more closely."

When the recorder automatically switched off, Lee Tong pressed the "play" button and the picture returned to life.

Min Koryo watched it impassively for a minute and then said, "What is the latest status report on the wreck site?"

"A NUMA salvage crew is bringing up the bodies and preparing to raise the yacht."

"Who is the man with the red heard talking with Pitt?"

Lee Tong enlarged the scene until both men filled the screen.

"That's Admiral James Sandecker, Director of NUMA."

"Your man was not seen filming Pitts movements?"

"No, he's one of the best in the business. An ex-FBi agent. He was contracted for the job through one of our subsidiary corporations and told that Pitt is suspected of selling NUMA equipment to outside sources."

"What do we know about Pitt?"

"I have a complete dossier flying in from Washington. It should be here within the hour."

Min Koryo's mouth tightened as she moved closer to the TV.

"How could he know so much? NUMA is an oceanographic agency.

They don't employ secret agents. Why is he coming after us?"

"It'll pay us to find out."

"Move in closer," she ordered.

Lee Tong again enlarged the image, moving past Sandecker's shoulder until it seemed as though Pitt was talking to the camera.

Then he froze the picture.

Min Koryo placed a pair of square-lensed glasses over her narrow nose and stared at the weathered but handsome face that stared back.

Her dark eyes flashed briefly. "Goodbye, Mr. Pitt."

Then she reached over and pushed the "off" switch, and the screen went black.

The smoke from Suvorov's cigarette hung heavily in the air of the dining room as he and Lugovoy shared a bottle of 1966 Croft Vintage Port. Suvorov looked at the red liquin in his glass and scowled.

"All these Mongolians ever serve us is beer and wine. What I wouldn't give for a bottle of good vodka."

Lugovoy selected a cigar out of a box that was held by one of the Korean waiters. "You have no culture, Suvorov. This happens to be an excellent port."

"American decadence has not rubbed off on me," Suvorov said arrogantly.

"Call it what you will, but you rarely see Americans defecting to Russia because of our disciplined lifestyle," Lugovoy retorted sarcastically.