“I’m sure.” She turned to look at him. He wore a businessman’s gray suit, a tan raincoat, and black-rimmed spectacles that seemed to alter the shape of his face. The transformation was remarkable. Even Katerina scarcely recognized him. It was no wonder he had managed to survive all these years.

“Why weren’t you at the hotel?” she asked.

“You’re a smart girl. You tell me.”

She turned to face the sea again. “You weren’t there,” she said after a moment of thought, “because you were afraid Alexei was going to kill you.”

“And why would I be afraid of that?”

“Because he’s refusing to pay you the money he owes you. And you’re convinced the second phase of the operation is actually a plot to get rid of you so there will be no links between you and the SVR.”

“Is it?”

“Get a grip, Quinn.”

His gaze was moving over her, back and forth, up and down. “Are you armed?” he asked finally.

“No.”

“Mind if I check for myself?”

Before she could answer, he had pulled her close in a seemingly romantic embrace and was running a hand over her body. It took him only a second or two to find the Makarov pistol concealed beneath her sweater. He slipped it into his coat pocket. Then he opened her handbag and plucked out the mobile phone. He powered it on and searched through the e-mail in-box.

“You’re wasting your time,” she said.

“When was your last contact with Alexei?”

“Midday.”

“What were his instructions?”

“Proceed as planned.”

“Who was the man who bought you a drink in the bar?”

“I told you—”

“Was he SVR?”

“You’re paranoid.”

“True,” said Quinn. “Which is why I’m still alive.”

He powered down the phone and, smiling, held it out to her. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent it hurtling toward the sea.

“You bastard,” said Katerina.

“Luck of the Irish,” said Quinn.

Quinn’s cabin was on the same level as Katerina’s, a few doors closer to the prow. He forced her inside and immediately dumped out the contents of her handbag on the bed. There was nothing outwardly electronic, only a wallet containing her German passport and credit cards and a bit of makeup. There was also a suppressor for the Makarov. Quinn slipped it into his pocket and instructed Katerina to remove her clothing.

“In your dreams,” she said.

“It’s not as if I haven’t seen you—”

“The only reason I ever slept with you is because Alexei ordered me to.”

“He ordered me to do the same thing. Now take off your clothes.” When she remained motionless, Quinn screwed the suppressor into the end of the Makarov’s barrel and pointed it at her face. “Let’s start with the coat, shall we?”