Yuri straightened up and stretched his back. He’d been busy reattaching the hopper to the Power Row Crop Duster out in the garage after having meticulously filled it with the anthrax powder. The whole procedure had taken almost two hours, including the time he’d had to spend in the lab inside the class A hazmat suit. But now it was done and the pest control truck was ready for its rendezvous with fate in the morning.

Yuri glanced at his watch and allowed himself to relax for the first time all evening. Ever since he’d managed to escape from crazy Curt and the others involved in the hair-raising pursuit of Jack Stapleton, Yuri had been in a minor panic. He’d been worried that he would not be able to complete everything he had to do by the eleven o’clock deadline he’d promised. But the worrying had been for naught. He was ready by ten-thirty, a half hour ahead of time. On the kitchen table were five one-pound plastic sausages stuffed with the light tan powder, waiting to be handed over to Curt and Steve. On top of them was the sealed envelope that Curt had requested. A heavy bath towel to pack them in was on the countertop.

After giving the side of the truck an appreciative pat for the role it was soon to play, Yuri glanced into the cab to make sure the keys were where he’d left them, hanging from the driver’s side visor. He wanted no stupid mistakes in the morning like forgetting where the keys were. He planned to leave for Manhattan at eight o’clock sharp with his suitcase, fake passport, and airline ticket.

Yuri walked over to the side door. After one more admiring look at the truck, he flipped off the light. Before he opened the door, he stuck his right hand in his jacket pocket to grip the Glock pistol. He was still afraid Flash Thomas might show up, although at that time of night he considered the chances slim. At least he didn’t have Jack Stapleton to worry about anymore.

As Yuri opened the door, he marveled that he’d not realized how truly crazy Curt was. Steve was weird, too, but not the way Curt was. Yuri knew he was no psychologist, but he imagined something terribly abnormal must have happened to Curt during his childhood to explain his personality. Yuri understood that Americans were covetous and violent and had little self-awareness, but Curt carried the traits to ridiculous extremes: his and only his view of the world was correct. But what really irritated Yuri was Curt’s anti-Slavic bias, which had become progressively more apparent as time had gone on.