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Praise for the Writing of Andrew Kaplan

PRAISE FOR THE WRITING OF ANDREW KAPLAN

War of the Raven

“In a word, terrific … The pace is blistering, the atmosphere menacing and decadent, and author Andrew Kaplan is in marvelously smashing form.” —Daily News (New York)

“The characters and locales are brilliantly etched … the plot riveting.” —The Times (London)

“A smashing, sexy and unforgettable read.” —Publishers Weekly

Scorpion

“Pure dynamite … espionage laced with high-voltage Middle East adventure.” —The Washington Times

“A fast-paced, supercharged debut thriller.” —Kirkus Reviews

Dragonfire

“A superb and original blending of Eastern mysticism with the shadowy world of espionage.” —Nelson DeMille, New York Times-bestselling author of Word of Honor

“Electrifying … A searing, ultimately satisfying entertainment with energy, passion, and moral resonance.” —Kirkus Reviews

Hour of the Assassins

“An exciting, original suspense novel.” —Buffalo Evening News

Title Page

Scorpion

A Novel

Andrew Kaplan

Dedication

For Annie with love

The center of the aspirations of the Soviet Union lies south of Batum and Baku in the general direction of the Persian Gulf.

—SOVIET FOREIGN MINISTER V.M. MOLOTOV in conversation with the German ambassador, 1940.

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

The old man was dying at last. This time the doctors were certain. He wouldn’t survive the night. With a grim nod, Fyedorenko had settled down to wait outside the bedroom door, while the doctors gathered around the living corpse like ancient priests, rattling their tubes and oscilloscopes and oxygen tanks like gourds to celebrate the rite of death. Fyedorenko lit an English cigarette and inhaled deeply, trying to control his impatience. If his lifelong friend wasn’t dead by morning, he was tempted to strangle the old bastard himself.

For months they had desperately propped the old man up like a scarecrow, allowing him out for rare public appearances under carefully orchestrated conditions, while the western press speculated over the rise and fall of his blood pressure as though it were the Dow Jones average. Periodically, someone would report that he had died, sending the currency markets into wild gyrations and diplomats scurrying like midnight mice into hurried conferences. Then they would have to trot the scarecrow out in one of those carefully-staged, public pantomimes to squelch the rumors. They had to keep him alive then, because they desperately needed the time. But now everything was ready and the sooner he died, the better. If the old man lingered much longer, Fyedorenko feared that his enemies in the Politburo might learn about his preparations and act first. Every minute that the old man lingered on increased his jeopardy. The Central Committee was thick with the old man’s appointees and there were plenty of those who still believed in the old man’s policies of coexistence with the West. Well, they would change their line when the time came and, once things settled down, they would be purged, one by one. If only the old man would die now!