She hesitated before removing her coat and handing it to Quinn. He searched the pockets and the lining but found nothing other than her cigarettes and her lighter. The lighter was large enough to contain a tracking beacon. He pocketed it for later disposal.

“Now the sweater and the jeans.”

Again Katerina hesitated. Then she pulled the sweater over her head and wriggled out of the jeans. Quinn searched both articles of clothing, then, with a nod, instructed her to keep going.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Quinn.”

“Very,” he agreed.

“What are you trying to accomplish?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I want my money. And you’re going to make certain I get it.”

Quinn traced a finger along the curve of her breast while staring directly into her eyes. Her nipple firmed instantly to his touch. Her face, however, remained defiant.

“What did you expect would happen if you agreed to work for the SVR?”

“I expected Alexei to live up to his word.”

“How naive of you.”

“We had a deal. Promises were made.”

“When dealing with Russians,” she said, “promises mean nothing.”

“I realize that now,” said Quinn with a glance toward the Makarov.

“And if you get your money? Where will you go?”

“I’ll find a place. I always do.”

“Not even the Iranians would have you now.”

“Then I’ll go back to Lebanon. Or Syria.” He paused, then added, “Or maybe I’ll go home.”

“To Ireland?” she asked. “Your war is over, Quinn. The SVR is all you have left.”

“Yes,” he said, slipping the strap of Katerina’s bra from her shoulder. “And the SVR ordered you to kill me.”

Katerina said nothing.

“You don’t deny it?”

She folded her arms over her breasts. “What now?”

“I’m going to propose a simple deal. Twenty million dollars in exchange for one of the SVR’s most valuable agents. I’m quite confident Alexei will pay.”

“And where do you intend to hold me while you conduct the negotiations?”

“Somewhere Alexei and his goons will never find you. And in case you’re wondering,” he added, “the arrangements for your travel and indefinite confinement have already been made.” He smiled. “Alexei seems to have forgotten that I’ve done this sort of thing a time or two.”

Quinn offered Katerina her sweater, but she refused to accept it. Instead, she reached behind her back, loosened the clasp on her bra, and allowed it to fall from her body. She was perfect, thought Quinn—perfect except for the scar on the underside of her right wrist. He removed the magazine from the Makarov and switched off the light.

50

VIENNA–HAMBURG