Chapters (49)
- Title Page
- Acknowledgements
- ONE - THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW SEPTEMBER 24, 1999
- TWO - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA OCTOBER 6, 1999
- THREE - CAUCASUS REGION NEAR THE CASPIAN SEA, RUSSIA, OCTOBER 10, 1999
- FOUR - THE WHITE HOUSE WASHINGTON, D.C. OCTOBER 26, 1999
- FIVE - KALININGRAD, RUSSIA OCTOBER 26, 1999
- SIX - KHABAROVSK TERRITORY NEAR THE RUSSIA-CHINA BORDER OCTOBER 27, 1999
- SEVEN - KALININGRAD, RUSSIA NOVEMBER 2, 1999
- EIGHT - WASHINGTON, D.C. NOVEMBER 5, 1999
- NINE - KALININGRAD REGION NOVEMBER 16, 1999
- TEN - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK NOVEMBER 28, 1999
- ELEVEN - NEW YORK CITY DECEMBER 23, 1999
- TWELVE - NEW YORK CITY DECEMBER 28, 1999
- THIRTEEN - VARIOUS LOCALES DECEMBER 31, 1999
- FOURTEEN - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA DECEMBER 31, 1999
- FIFTEEN - NEW YORK CITY DECEMBER 31, 1999
- SIXTEEN - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA DECEMBER 31, 1999
- SEVENTEEN - NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 1, 2000
- EIGHTEEN - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK JANUARY 1, 2000
- NINETEEN - NEW YORK CITY AND SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA JANUARY 1, 2000
- TWENTY - WASHINGTON, D.C. JANUARY 2, 2000 FROM THE
- TWENTY-ONE - NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 3, 2000 CALVARY CEMETERY, QUEENS
- TWENTY-TWO - MOSCOW JANUARY 6, 2000
- TWENTY-THREE - WASHINGTON, D.C. JANUARY 6, 2000
- TWENTY-FOUR - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA JANUARY 7, 2000
- TWENTY-FIVE - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA AND NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 8, 2000
- TWENTY-SIX - NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 16, 2000
- TWENTY-SEVEN - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK JANUARY 16, 2000
- TWENTY-EIGHT - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK JANUARY 16, 2000
- TWENTY-NINE - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK JANUARY 16, 2000
- THIRTY - NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 20, 2000
- THIRTY-ONE - BROOKLYN, NEW YORK JANUARY 26, 2000
- THIRTY-TWO - WASHINGTON, D.C. JANUARY 26, 2000
- THIRTY-THREE - WASHINGTON, D.C. JANUARY 28, 2000
- THIRTY-FOUR - NEW YORK CITY JANUARY 29, 2000
- THIRTY-FIVE - KALININGRAD, RUSSIA JANUARY 30, 2000
- THIRTY-SIX - THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW FEBRUARY 1, 2000
- THIRTY-SEVEN - ANKARA, TURKEY FEBRUARY 7, 2000
- THIRTY-EIGHT - CAPPADOCIA, SOUTHEASTERN TURKEY FEBRUARY 9, 2000
- THIRTY-NINE - KALININGRAD REGION FEBRUARY 9, 2000
- FORTY - KALININGRAD REGION FEBRUARY 10, 2000
- FORTY-ONE - NEW YORK CITY FEBRUARY 9, 2000
- FORTY-TWO - KALININGRAD REGION FEBRUARY 10
- FORTY-THREE - SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA FEBRUARY 10, 2000
- FORTY-FOUR - MOSCOW FEBRUARY 11, 2000
- FORTY-FIVE - MOSCOW FEBRUARY 12, 2000
- FORTY-SIX - DAGOMYS BLACK SEA COAST, RUSSIA FEBRUARY 12, 2000
- FORTY-SEVEN - NEW YORK CITY KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT FEBRUARY 17, 2000
The crate was filled with mirrored globes of the sort that would throw off whirling spangles of light in theaters and dance halls. Each was about the size of a grapefruit. Nick had a much larger one suspended from the ceiling in his own club and usually referred to it as a “disco ball.”
“Give me the crowbar.” Gilea extended her hand toward Kos, still looking raptly down into the wooden box.
He passed her the tool without a word.
She studied the reflective globes a moment, then lifted one of them out of the crate and brought the edge of the crowbar sharply down against it. A crack spread across its circumference. She hit it again, splitting it into several pieces, letting them drop to the floor in a small avalanche of glitter dust.
Leaving only the smuggled contents of the globe in her hand.
The flat, rectangular packet had Chinese markings on one side. Its transparent wrapping contained a white, waxy substance that resembled a stick of modeling clay.
“The plastique,” Gilea said. She closed her eyes and stood with her head cocked back, her lips trembling a little, her fingers tightly gripping the packet.
Watching her, Nick thought she almost looked like a woman in ecstasy.
“You do nice work,” she said, turning to him after a long moment. Her eyes gleamed.
He smiled and met her gaze with his own.
“Always,” he said.
Nick Roma watched through the window in his office and waited. Finally Kos stuck his head inside the door and confirmed what Nick already knew. Gilea and her henchman had gone. He nodded to Kos. Kos left, shutting the door behind him.
It was time to check his insurance.
Nick walked across to his mirror, pulled his comb from his back pocket, and straightened his hair. He’d mussed it bowing over the beautiful hand of a dangerous lady.
Then he put his comb up and pressed a small button on the lower left panel of his mirror—a button so completely unobtrusive you had to know it was there to see it.
The giant mirrored panel slowly opened before his eyes. Behind that panel were banks of VCRs, each recording its assigned sector of the building. The tapes in the machines were endless loops, recording for twenty-four hours, then overtaping onto the previous material. That way, he only had to pull them if something worth saving was likely to be on them.
Like insurance.