Dogin was breathing easier now. He felt oddly at peace as he reached to the right and opened his top desk drawer.

"I hope you will stay on at the Center, Sergei. Russia needs people like you. And your son, when you see him-- don't be too rough with him. We wanted to recapture what we once had… and he wanted to see it for the first time, outside the history books. Though the methods may have been questionable, there was no shame in the dream."

Replacing the receiver, Dogin looked at the map of the Soviet Union in 1945, and continued to look at it through clear eyes as he put the barrel of the Makarov against his temple and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

Tuesday, 4:22 P.M., St. Petersburg

It seemed strange to General Orlov that the three men who had had such key roles in the day's events-- Dogin, Paul Hood, and himself-- had conducted their business from desks, had not seen daylight since the crisis began.

Devils in the dark we are, conducting the affairs of men

There was only one thing Orlov had to do, and he couldn't do it, not yet. Having called General Dhaka's office to request news of his son and the rest of Nikita's command, all he could do was sit and think and wait.

He let his body sink back into the chair, his arms on the rests, hands hanging over the front and seeming to weigh so very much. Orlov had been forced to fight his own countrymen, all of whom loved Russia in their own way, and now the tragedy of what had happened, and his part in it, began to weigh on him.

He bent his head toward his watch, promptly forgot what time it was. Why hasn't anyone called? he wondered. Surely the pilots had been able to ascertain how many soldiers were on the ground.

The beep of the phone startled him, like the hiss of a coiled snake. But it brought him to life and he grabbed the receiver before the first beep had died.

"Yes?" His temple was beating against the earpiece.

His secretary said, "There's a video call for you."

"Send it," Orlov said urgently.

Orlov's eyes were on the monitor as Paul Hood's face came on. The American took a moment to ascertain that it was Orlov he was looking at.

"General," Hood said, "your son is all right."

Orlov's jaw trembled for a moment, then he smiled with relief "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"He's in the extraction craft," Hood continued, "and we'll arrange for his safe return as soon as possible. That may take a day or two, since he was wounded slightly in the arm and leg."

"But he's all right-- in no danger."

"We're taking good care of him," said Hood.