"Reasonable because it's not your two potatoes on the line," Herbert said. "Heroic reputations can be manufactured, as Ann will attest,' and I'd rather have an armed confrontation than a massacre."

Rodgers nodded. "As Lord Macaulay put it back in 1831, 'Moderation in war is imbecility.' "

"Death in war is worse," Liz said.

"Let's see what Orlov delivers," Hood said. Though as he watched the small green numbers of the clock flick by, he knew that whatever it was he would only have seconds to make a decision that would affect lives and nations-- all of it based on what his gut told him about a man's face on a computer screen.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Tuesday, 10:45 P.M., Khabarovsk

When Orlov raised the train, Corporal Fodor informed him that Nikita had gone to the engine to watch the track ahead. The Corporal said it would take a few minutes to bring him back.

"I don't have a few minutes," Orlov said. "Tell him to stop the train where it is and come to the phone."

"Yes, General," the Corporal said.

Fodor hurried to the front of the gently rocking car, lifted the receiver of the intercom, and pushed the buzzer on the box beneath it. After nearly a minute, Nikita picked up.

"What is it?" Nikita asked.

"Sir," said Fodor, "the General is on the line. He's said that we're to stop the train where we are and he'd like to speak with you."

"It's noisy up here," said Nikita. "Repeat?"

Fodor shouted, "The General has ordered us to stop the train at once and--"

The Corporal bit off the rest of the sentence as he heard a cry from the engine, through the door and not over the intercom; a moment later he was flung forward as the wheels screeched, the couplings groaned, and the car was jolted hard against the coal tender. Fodor dropped the receiver as he jumped back to help steady the satellite dish, which one of the soldiers had been heads-up enough to hold, but the receiver itself was knocked on its side and one of the coaxial cables was ripped from the back of the dish. At least the bottom-heavy lantern hadn't fallen over, and when the train came to a rest and the soldiers and civilians helped each other to their feet amid the spilled boxes, Fodor was able to check the equipment. Though the connector had been torn off and was still attached to the dish, the cable itself was all right. He pulled off his gloves and began trying to repair it at once.

Because the large boiler sat in front of the cab, the engine's only windows were on the sides. Nikita had been looking out one of them when he saw the fallen tree through the thick, failing flakes. He had shouted to the engineer to stop, but when the poor young man didn't act fast enough Nikita threw the brake for him.