He also felt, in his heart, that Russia was not yet finished with the United States. The Soviets had beaten Japan in a war, and ownership of the islands was the prize. But there was a sense that Russia had lost a war with the United States, and the Russian spirit-- certainly Orlov's spirit-- bridled at that. Spetsnaz training had strengthened his belief that enemies must be destroyed, not accommodated, and that he and his soldiers should be unencumbered by any ethical, diplomatic, or moral considerations. He was convinced that Zhanin's efforts to turn Russia into a nation of consumers would fail just as Gorbachev's had, and that would lead to a final reckoning with the bankers and their puppets in Washington, London, and Berlin.

Fresh tobacco had arrived the day before, and Orlov rolled a cigarette as the rim of the sun rose above the dark sea. He felt so much a part of this land, of each sunrise, that it seemed possible to touch the tobacco to the sun itself to light it. Instead, he used the lighter his father had given him when he entered the academy, the orange glow of the flame illuminating the inscription on the side: To Nikki, with love and pride-- your father. Nikita drew on the cigarette and slipped the lighter back into the vest pocket of his crisply pressed shirt.

With love and pride. What would the inscription have read after he received his commission? he wondered. With shame and embarrassment? Or when Nikita requested this outpost upon graduation, away from his father and nearer a very real enemy of Moscow. With disappointment and confusion?

The telephone rang, a relay from the communications shed at the foot of the hill. Orlov's aide had not yet arrived, so he picked up the trim, black receiver himself.

"Sakhalin post one, Orlov speaking."

"Good morning," said the caller.

Nikita was silent for several seconds. "Father?"

"Yes, Nikki," said the General. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, though surprised," Nikita said, his expression suddenly alarmed. "Is it Mother--?"

"She's well," said the General. "We're both well."

"I'm glad," Nikita said flatly. "To hear from you after all these months-- well, you can understand my concern."