"It would take, sir, three fifty-mile round-trips by an Mi-8 to carry the cargo to the nearest spot where a jet could land," Fodor said as he studied the green and black map on the screen. He turned the computer so it was facing the officer. "That's here, sir, just northwest of the Amur River."

Nikita looked at the screen, his thick, black brows pulled together in thought. "If we can get a plane, that is. I still don't understand the trouble in Vladivostok, why there was nothing available but this train."

"Maybe we're at war, sir," Fodor joked, "and no one bothered to tell us."

The phone beeped. Fodor leaned back and answered it, poking a finger in his other ear so he could hear. A moment later, he moved the lantern aside and handed the black receiver to Nikita.

"It's Korsakov, relaying a call from General Orlov," Fodor said, his eyes wide, a trace of awe in his voice.

His expression stony, Nikita got on and shouted, "Yes, sir."

"Can you hear me?" the General asked.

"Barely! If you'll speak up, sir--"

General Orlov said slowly, distinctly, "Nikita, we believe that an Il-76T controlled by a foreign government may try and intercept your train late tonight. We're trying to determine who or what is on board, but to do that I need to know what your cargo is."

Nikita's gaze shifted from his lap to the crates. He couldn't understand why his father didn't just ask the officer in charge of the operation. "Sir," he said, "Captain Leshev did not share that information with me."

"Then I'd like you to open one," General Orlov said. "I'm entering the order in my log and you won't be held responsible for inspecting the shipment."

Nikita was still looking at the crate. He had been curious about the contents and, acknowledging the order, asked his father to hold the line.

After handing the receiver to Fodor, Nikita pulled on his gloves and walked across the car to the crates. He slipped a shovel from a hook on the wall, wedged the blade under the lip of the wood, put his foot on thee shoulder of the shovel, and pushed. The edge of the crate squealed and rose.

"Corporal, bring the lantern."

Fodor hurried over, and as the orange light fell on the crate they saw the bundles of American hundred-dollar bills, tied with white paper bands and stacked in neat piles.

Nikita pushed the lid back down with his boot. He told Fodor to open another crate, then walked across the rattling car to the table and picked up the phone.

"The crates contain money, Father," he shouted. "American currency--"

"Here too, sir!" yelled Fodor. "American dollars."

"That's probably what all the crates contain," Nikita said.

"Money for a new revolution," General Orlov said.

Nikita covered his open ear with his palm. "Excuse me, sir?"

The General spoke up. "Has Korsakov informed you about Ukraine?"

"No, sir, they haven't."