A hot flash of fear shot through Goldman when he came back on the line and reported that he had spoken with Alstair McLain. The director of market regulation might have demanded that she be arrested and turned over to the SEC. She had been ordered off the OptiMarx project. She had taken off on her own crusade. McLain had rejected her report of wrongdoing out of hand. Even if he weren’t in on the whole thing, he would think she was nuts for what she was claiming. Right now, lying back on the couch in Charlie Gruver’s Midtown Manhattan apartment, trying to stave off panic, she had to admit to herself that the whole thing sounded pretty far out. She knew it was all too real.

Surprisingly, Agent Decker reported that McLain had been very helpful. The agent’s attitude was completely changed. There was a real sense of urgency in his voice. He sounded very much like Charlie Gruver when he ordered her to stay right there in the apartment and not to let anyone in the door until he and his agents arrived. They were on their way, he said. It did sound as if he was on a cell phone, moving quickly. She hoped so.

As soon as she hung up with the FBI, Goldman tried to call Charlie Gruver again. It was a ritual by now. Call, wait for the ring, listen to the pleasant businesslike voice mail greeting every five minutes. That’s what she had been doing since she received the frightening call from Dmitri Ustinov, telling her the Russians knew where she was.

She tried again anyway. The phone rang once, then again. On the third ring, Charlie Gruver answered.

“Charlie, thank God!” she cried, the words spilling out. “I’ve been trying to get you for hours. Dmitri Ustinov from OptiMarx called. He was trying to warn us. The Russians know where we are, Charlie. They’re coming to…to kill us.”

She couldn’t suppress a sob at the end. There was an odd popping on the other end of the line. Goldman realized it was Charlie clicking his teeth together. It was a habit of his. He did it when he was thinking through some knotty problem. She was surprised she had noticed it before. Even more surprised that she was together enough right now to recognize what the clicking was.

“Calm down, Catherine,” he said. “You’re safe for the moment. Did you call the police?”

“No, I called the FBI. I just hung up with them a few minutes ago. They’re supposed to be on their way.”

“Good. Good. Catherine, listen to me. You have to keep the door locked and don’t let anyone in unless they show a badge with ‘FBI’ all over it.”

Gruver’s voice sounded worried now.

“I’ll be careful, Charlie. How are things down there by now?”