While Fodor crouched beside the console, waiting to be patched through to the base on Sakhalin, Nikita's eyes ranged over the civilians they'd picked up as he considered other possible explanations for what he'd heard. A mechanical problem could have caused the transport to turn back, but it wouldn't have needed an escort. Was someone looking for the train, trying to pinpoint their location, attempting to help them? His father, perhaps? General Kosigan? Or could it be someone else?

"He isn't there," Fodor said.

"Ask for General Orlov," Nikita said impatiently.

Fodor made the request and then handed the phone to Nikita. "He's on, sir."

Nikita squatted. "General?"

"What is it, Nikki?"

"There's a transport overhead," said Nikita. "It was headed west until a pair of jets arrived, and then it turned."

"That's the 76T," Orlov said.

"What are my orders?" Nikita asked.

"I've asked the President for permission to send troops to meet you in Bira," he said. "I've not received an approval for my request. Until then, do whatever is necessary to protect your cargo."

"As war matériel or as evidence, sir?"

"That isn't your problem," Orlov snapped. "Your orders are to keep it safe."

"That I will do, sir," Nikita said.

Handing the receiver to Fodor, the young officer hurried to the rear of the car, making his way through the passengers. The five men and two women were sitting on mats playing cards or reading or knitting by lantern light. Nikita pulled open the door and crossed the slippery coupling. Thickly packed snow fell on his shoulders as he pushed open the door.

Inside the car, the beefy Sergeant Versky was talking to one of his men as they kept watch at the window on the northern side. Another man was stationed at the window on the south. All of them snapped to attention as Lieutenant Orlov entered.

"Sergeant," Nikita said, saluting, "I want spotters on the tops of the train, two men on every car rotated in half-hour shifts."

"Yes, sir," said Versky.

"If there isn't time to request instructions," Nikita continued, "your men are to shoot anyone who approaches the train." Nikita looked at the civilians, four men and three women they'd placed in this car at the last station. One of the men was sitting against a crate, napping. "And don't leave the car unattended at any time, Sergeant. I won't have my cargo compromised."

"Of course not, sir."

Nikita left, wondering where Rossky had gone… and whether, absent the Colonel's orders, he could allow the crates to be turned over to his father.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Tuesday, 6:45 A.M.,

Washington, D.C.

"Another message from NRO," Bugs Benet said as Hood and the rest of the Op-Center officers sat around the conference table in the Tank.

"Thanks," Hood said to the video image of his assistant. "Put it through."

Viens's voice came on, but his picture did not. Instead, a black-and-white image was constructed on the screen at fifty lines a second.