Josef Bogatinoff leaned forward and placed a hand on Vujnovich’s beefy arm. “Nicholas, use that thick head for a minute before you start launching bullets all over America. Boris is saying that he thinks someone from OptiMarx is the problem. If this person should mysteriously disappear, or turn up filled with lead, it would raise questions about the system at a time when we would prefer staying below the radar of the authorities.”

Medikov knew he could always depend on Bogatinoff. It had been several years before that he found the man, struggling through Moscow University, studying for his doctorate in economics during the day and hacking into computers at night. The man was brilliant! Since he had a beloved sister in the Ukraine with three children who were living under the munificence of Boris Medikov, he was fiercely loyal.

“Precisely, Josef! That’s my concern.” Medikov gave Vujnovich time to ponder the situation while he threw another log on the blazing fire. Even though the room was comfortable, the fire made a warming counterpoint to the snowstorm that still roared outside. The blowing snow masked the Kremlin even though it rose only a couple of kilometers to the west. “No, my friend, for once bullets are not the solution to the problem. We must dissuade this person with subtlety. Quiet threats are fine, but I suspect bribery might be even better.”

Mikhail Gikoytski, the third visitor in Medikov’s suite, was banker for the Russian Mafia. It was his turn to raise a question.

“I agree with what you are saying. Violence is not the answer here. How do we locate this person who threatens our plan? It could be anyone inside the OptiMarx organization, even an investor, or someone on the outside but with a hidden agenda and enough money or leverage to get to someone inside.”

Medikov smiled. “That is why you three gentlemen are booked on the next Aeroflot flight to London with connections to New York. Do whatever you must to find out who is shitting in our nest. Then please do whatever you must to eliminate the problem.”

The three men stared at one another, then at Medikov’s back as he walked to the far window to again stare out at the raging storm. How important was this mission that their boss was sending them to right its course?

After a few seconds they stood and left to do his bidding.

The blinding snow thrashed the seven SEALs as they struggled to cross the rugged, sparsely inhabited terrain of the Kola Peninsula. The howling wind, blowing straight off the ice cap to the north, drove the stinging snow against any exposed flesh, leaving it raw and bleeding. They could hardly see more than a few feet ahead as they skied through the scrub birch and fir forest. The trees sparsely covered the uplands between the fjords that cut the land south to north.