"Mr. Hood," Bugs Benet said, "there's a call for you relayed through Major Pentti Aho's office from St. Petersburg."

"Put it through," Hood said. He felt like he did on hot summer mornings, when the air was still and silent and it was difficult to breathe. "Any guesses, Bob?" he asked, hitting mute on the phone.

"Our Striker man there may have been caught and forced to call," he said. "I can't think of any other--"

"This is Kris," said Peggy.

"Scratch that," said Herbert. "Kris is Peggy's code name if she's free. Kringle if she's stuck in the chimney, so to speak."

Hood unmuted the phone.

"Yes, Kris," he said.

"General Sergei Orlov would like to speak with his counterpart," Peggy said.

"Are you with the General?" Hood asked.

"No. We've raised him by radio."

Hood touched mute and looked at Herbert. "Can this be on the level?"

"If it is," Herbert said, "Peg and George worked a Galilee-grade miracle."

Rodgers said, "That's what Striker's trained to do. And the lady was no slouch either."

Hood unmuted. "Kris, his counterpart agrees."

A strong voice said in thickly accented English, "And with whom have I the honor of speaking?"

"This is Paul Hood," he answered as his eyes took in the faces of his officers. He noticed that everyone in the room was leaning forward in their chairs.

Orlov said, "Mr. Hood, this is a pleasure."

"General Orlov," said Hood, "I've followed your career for many years. We all have. You've many admirers here."

"Thank you."

"Tell me, do you have video capabilities?"

Orlov said, "We do, through the Zontik-6 satellite."

Hood glanced at Herbert. "Can you hook me into it?"

The intelligence chief looked as though someone had turned a cold hose on him. "He'll see the Tank, You can't be serious."

"I am."

With an oath, Herbert called his office on his cellular phone, swinging his wheelchair around and huddling over it so Orlov couldn't hear.

Hood said, "General, I would like to talk face-to-face. If we can arrange that, will you agree to it?"

"Gladly," Orlov said. "Our respective governments would shudder if they knew what we're doing."

"I'm shaking a little myself," said Hood. "This isn't exactly standard operating procedure."

"That is right," said Orlov. "But these aren't ordinary circumstances either."

"How true," said Hood.

Herbert turned around. "We can do it," he said, his eyes imploring. "But I urge you--"

"Thanks," Hood said. "General Orlov--"

"I heard," he said. "Our audio is very good here."

"What does he think ours is?" Herbert muttered. "CIA hand-me-downs?"

"Ask your man to access channel twenty-four," Orlov said, "on what is undoubtedly a state-of-the-art communications control systems satellite dish and transmitter, Model CB7."

Hood grinned at Herbert, who wasn't in the mood. "And ask him," said Herbert, "if cosmonauts still urinate on the bus tires before they head to the launch pad."