"Yeah, but it didn't help them, the crooks knew they wouldn't, and a couple streets on they were met by an army captain with a detachment who directed them down a dead-end street, ambushed them with automatic rifles, blew the doors off the truck with a handful of homemade C-4 and got away with all the marbles."

"Job inside or outside?"

"Outside."

Carroll made a face. "Everyone dead?"

"All but one," Golden said coolly, ignoring Casanare's wince. "Which won't surprise you." "Why not?" Carroll demanded.

Golden jerked his head at the file in her hands. "Check out the description of the police captain."

She skimmed through the pages and came to a halt, her eyes running rapidly down the page. She went very still. "Ivanov." "Ivanov?" Casanare said, sitting up.

"Ivanov," Golden said, nodding.

"Back in business," Casanare said.

"He was never out," Carroll said.

Ivanov, the only name by which he was known, had been the missing person in the Peter the Great case. There was no clear file photo of him, only a description of a tall, broad-shouldered blond with blue eyes, Slavic cheekbones and a thin-lipped smile that one terrified informant had described as "a fucking throat-cutter, and happy in his work. I mean, Jesus Christ, if Ivanov smiles at you, you know you're dead." Ivanov had sat at Peter the Great's right hand, had been his enforcer, had been, literally on one memorable occasion, Pyotr's hatchet man.

Carroll's gaze was narrowed and fierce. "You said there were two reports."

Golden tossed her a second file. "This one's a theft. A military base near the Ukrainian border was hit. We have reason to believe Ivanov was involved."

"What reason?"

"A description of one of two men in a white van that drove into the base late the night of the robbery. Tall, broad-shouldered--"

"--blue eyes--" Carroll said.

"--Slavic cheekbones--" Casanare said.

"--and a smile you could cut yourself on," Golden said, nodding.

"Two men?"

"Two. The other man didn't seem to make much of an impression on our witness, other than being shorter, heavier, older and with less hair. Of course, he was covered with Russian prison tattoos."

"Mafia."

"Looks like."

"And who is our witness?"

"Was. He died after he gave a statement."

"How'd he die?"

"He was shot. At point-blank range."

Casanare said grimly, "That sonofabitch doesn't like to leave any loose ends lying around, does he?"

Golden shook his head. "Wasn't Ivanov."

"Bullshit."

"Our witness was one of two guards on the gate that night, both of whom had been alerted by the base commander to expect company, with full descriptions of both so they could be passed through. The guards followed, as per instructions. Ivanov went into the general's office and stayed there, coming out only once, the guard thought while the general was on the phone."

"What general?"