The two men took seats in the armchairs, each finding his own spot, as if they had often sat here and talked together. Medikov pulled the bottle from the ice and considered the label.

“Well, I see you’ve broken into that case of Chalk Hill Chardonnay we sent you, Admiral.”

“In your honor, Boris,” the old admiral replied. “I’m normally content with a simple Russian wine myself. Even your high-priced American contacts haven’t spoiled me of that yet.”

As he poured a glass for Durov, Medikov broached the subject that had been so far delayed by the spectacular disappearance of the sun into the Black Sea. “Speaking of America, I should update you on our progress there.”

Durov tasted the wine. “Very oaky, not at all subtle like a good Russian.”

Medikov chuckled. “Subtle? Americans seldom are. That is to our benefit. Our people are in place in the OptiMarx organization. They report the central algorithm has been modified for our purpose.”

Durov nodded, then looked sideways at Medikov. “That is all well and good, but will the changes be detected?”

Medikov shook his head. “We control the internal OptiMarx testing. Even the Americans understand there is nothing like Russian training to make a good software tester. Besides, the changes are so well hidden and pervasive, without access to the entire code base no one could uncover it. Even then, someone would have to know what to look for and it would still take him a very, very long time to discover it.”

Durov stood and paced over to stand in front of the large window looking out over the water. This time the darkening view was lost on him. Deep furrows of worry creased his brow.

“Still, there is always the possibility of its being uncovered,” he commented drily. “This is not acceptable.”

Medikov laughed humorlessly at the admiral’s concern. “Alexanderovich, you would make a very poor criminal. You worry far too much. As I have told you, the changes are well hidden. Besides, even if they should be found and identified, everything there points at the greedy American stock traders.”

Durov turned abruptly and faced the seated Medikov. When he spoke, his voice was forced and steely. “Boris, you are being unbelievably dense. Our operations are already under way. Regardless of who might get the blame, the code must not be detected. Anything that might upset the timing of our plan now would be disastrous.”

Medikov set his wineglass down on the little table so he could use his hands to plead his case. “Alexanderovich, the profits are in the New York operation. It will make us all very rich. All this other is merely a sideshow.”