For an instant his mind drifted back to the Old Dog. Had the rest of the crew made it out of Siberia? Or had the Old Dog given out before they could take off? And if so, where was McLanahan? Ormack? Wendy and the rest? Were they here as well? Or had the Soviet Union already "dealt" with them? He blocked out the thought. If the latter had happened, he could only imagine ... Glimpses of those final moments, hazy as they flow were, drifted through.

No, Luger decided, they must have made it out.

He was the only one who had not.

Depressed by the thought, Luger took in more of the room. There wasn't a condition chart at the foot of his bed, which was unfortunate. It could have told him a lot about himself. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't find out about himself on his own. He heard voices coming from outside the room. He didn't want to get caught wandering around the ward, but he had to get to know this room and then slip back into bed-then, at least, he could figure out a way to escape while his body rested. After all, he was going to need his strength to resist the interrogations he knew were waiting for him. Luger counted the other beds, noted the other doorways, found lockers and washbasins, a bathroom, and a drug cabinet. Perfect. Steal a little something every opportunity you get, hide it under the mattress-you never knew what could be used as a weapon, or an escape tool, or a signaling device.

Painfully, unsteadily, he made his way over to the cabinet and tried the first large stainless-steel knob. Locked. He tried another, and this one opened. All right, let's see what we got.

"Ay!" a voice shouted from the bed to his right. "Stoy! Stoytyee yeevo!"

The voice startled Luger and he stumbled backwards, bounced off the adjacent bed, and fell forwards. His jaw slammed on the cold linoleum hard enough to draw blood and send a shower of stars obliterating his vision.

The man kept on screeching, "Ay! Vrahchyah! Ay! Pahzahveetyee bistrah kahvonyeebood nah pomahshch!"

His head pounding, Luger said, "Oh, shut up, will ya?" His voice was raspy and hoarse, barely audible. The alarmed Russian looked at Luger in shock, muttered something, then continued his shouting even louder, more in fear than in warning. Luger wiped blood off his chin from a fairly deep gash-and was suddenly blinded as the ward lights snapped fully on.

The lights made him dizzy . . . weak .

Luger was lifted off the floor by two strong sets of hands and dragged back to his bed. He couldn't see who carried him, but he could hear their voices, and they seemed surprised, not angry. He was effortlessly hoisted back onto his bed, and they held his arms and legs securely on it, obviously not realizing Luger didn't have the strength to resist even if he wanted to. A few minutes later he felt the inevitable prick of a needle in his arm. That was unnecessary, too-his exertion had left him totally drained.