“What are you talking about?”

“You know what all master strategists know. I’ve seen it in your plans. It’s genius.”

“What is?”

“I know how to read between the lines, sir.”

He had Davidov’s attention. He’d found something Davidov wanted to buy. Now, all he had to do was close the deal.

“Why don’t you enlighten me,” Davidov said.

“Well, sir. What’s the point in having a weapon as destructive as this pathogen if no one knows of its existence?”

“Continue.”

“It would have no deterrent effect.”

“Perhaps we don’t intend to use it as a deterrent.”

“As a tactical weapon it has no value. It would be like mustard gas. It would go everywhere. Kill everyone. It would kill as many of our men as the enemy’s.”

“Then why did we develop it?”

Igor knew the true answer. It was the same answer as why they did anything. They’d developed it because they could. Because they were ordered to. Because it was powerful. In a purely destructive sense, it was as powerful as an army.

The Russian president was a paranoid. Igor knew that. He’d seen the clinical reports. He was obsessed with holding onto his power, of holding back the wave of political reforms that threatened his presidency, and the wave of NATO-backed power that threatened to relegate Russia’s place to the history books.

“You developed it because you want the Americans to think we’re preparing for war.”

“We can’t win a war with the Americans,” Davidov said.

But Igor already knew he was on the right track.

“We don’t have to win a war,” he said. “We only have to keep the president in power.”

“Igor, there’s no risk to the president’s position.”

“I know that, sir. Of course there’s no risk. The president is more secure than ever.”

There was a pause. They both knew that was not true.

Igor filled the silence by saying, “We’re simply putting our pieces on the parts of the board we want to hold.”

He waited.

Davidov was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Are you a student of history, Igor?”

Igor took a deep breath. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I am, sir.”

“Do you remember what the Germans said before the First World War?”

“I do, sir. They said, better now than later.”

“That was a war they couldn’t win,” Davidov said.

“And they knew it, sir. That was why they wanted to fight it in 1914 rather than in 1920.”

“Exactly.”

“I understand that, sir,” Igor said. “And I can help you make others understand it.”

Davidov sighed. “Maybe,” he said.

Igor knew he’d done it. He could feel it. He’d saved himself.

Igor cleared his throat. “Tatyana Aleksandrova,” he said. “I taught her everything she knows. Let me find her for you.”

“You don’t have the first clue where she is.”