“We’ve got a contact point inside Russia who apparently used to operate as an adviser in the Que Son Mountains. There’s a strong chance he would have known Salt and Pepper both. He may be the only hope we have of actually putting a trail on Deville.”

“A Russian in the Que Son Mountains?”

“Looks like.”

“Well,” said Muir in his booming voice. “We should be able to clear this up pretty quickly.”

“Except that he apparently won’t talk, and the Russian government isn’t exactly excited about making him. In fact, the more we pressure him or them, the more likely he’s going to disappear. So the only hope is to kind of swoop in on him and catch him off balance.”

“Brandon,” sighed Hanson Muir. “Let me remind you that our job is to find bones and identify them. Bones. On old battlefields. Not to ambush live Russians in Moscow or live Devilles wherever he may be.”

“We’re trying to identify remains, Professor. Anatolie Petrushinsky may hold definitive information regarding the activities of what’s-his-name, the guy whose skull I own—”

“Rent,” corrected Professor Muir.

“Own,” emphasized Condley. “Unless the government decides to pay me back, I’m keeping that bad boy hostage.”

“Oh, whatever,” said Muir, knowing where Condley was taking this line of reasoning. “Alphonse no-middle-name Smith.”

“Exactly. Petrushinsky might even be able to confirm Smith’s activities, as well as possibly being able to tell us something about these other two. So we go see him.”

“You don’t need me in Moscow. You go. After you come with me to Australia.”

“Well, I don’t want you in Moscow, but why do you need me in Australia?”

“I’m not the man to go thousands of miles away and interview live people by myself. I lack the finesse. You said it yourself. I’m better when they’re dead. Besides,” Muir said invitingly, “if Matt Larkin was from Australia, it makes sense that Deville may have headed into Australia when he escaped from Viet Nam.”

Condley’s eyes lit up immediately. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“And I don’t want you to be searching for Deville by yourself. Anywhere you go where Deville might be, I go too, Brandon.”

“That could seriously cramp my style, Professor. And it could also scare the shit out of you.”

“You’re not going to kill that man, unless it’s in self-defense.” Muir said it flatly, but with a powerful conviction that surprised Condley.

“What difference does it make?”

“Murder is not in your job description.”