The tree may have fallen or the tree may have been placed there. If the latter, then the ambush had failed. Had they struck the tree, they'd have been stopped beside a cliff-- an ideal place from which to pick off the soldiers on top of the train. But here, hundreds of yards away, they could get maybe one or two soldiers before being spotted. And there was no way anyone could approach the train without being seen and, once seen, shot.

So what, then, is their game?

His father had called to tell him to stop the train. Had he known about the tree? Or had he learned something else, perhaps about explosives or ambushers ahead?

"Hurry!" Nikita said to Fodor.

"Almost ready, sir," the Corporal replied. Despite the cold, his forehead was flush and spotting with perspiration.

Nikita was becoming angrier with the helplessness he felt, and increasingly aware of a weight in the air around him. It was more than just the isolation and dampered sounds. It was a growing sense that whether he was predator or prey, the enemy he sought was very near.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Tuesday, 3:50 P.M., St. Petersburg

"I think they forgot all about us."

Private George was amused by the thought as he drove toward the Hermitage, negotiating the tricky turns he had to make after crossing the Moika River. He stayed to the right of the Bronze Horseman, then turned right on Gogolya Street and made his way toward the adjoining Palace Square.

Peggy had shut off the radio after Orlov and Paul Hood had switched satellites and it became clear that no one else was coming on the line. After leaving their shaken but grateful passenger off, she and George decided to continue on to the Hermitage, where they could leave the car, lose themselves in the crowd, and get their bearings before undertaking the second part of their mission.

"I mean, that's kinda rude, don't you think? We travel like watery walnuts a couple thousand miles, do the job, and no one bothers to get back on the line and say, 'By the way, guys-nice work.' "

"Did you come here for their approval?" Peggy asked.

"No. But it's nice to get it."

"Don't worry," Peggy said. "I have a feeling that before we're out of here, you'll crave anonymity."

As the white columns of the Hermitage came into view, growing amber in the late afternoon light, George could hear and then see the army of workers that Captain Rydman had warned them about.

He shook his head. "Who'd've ever thought it?"

Peggy said, "Probably the last time anyone protested here was when it was still called the Winter Palace and Nicholas II's itchy guards gunned the workers down."

"It's scary," George said, "that there are people who want to bring the iron heel back."