“I like that,” Curt said.

Curt turned into the Duane Street firehouse and pulled the car to the side so it didn’t block any of the gleaming red fire trucks. He and Steve locked eyes for a moment and gave each other a thumbs-up.

“Operation Wolverine is on track,” Curt said.

“Armageddon here we come,” Steve said.

As the two men alighted from the vehicle, Bob King, one of the latest recruits, looked up from polishing engine #7. “Hey, Lieutenant!” he called.

Curt gazed over at the rookie and raised his eyebrows.

“There was a cabbie in here a little while ago asking for you,” Bob yelled. “He was a short, squat guy with an accent that sounded Russian.”

Curt glanced at Steve. Steve stared back, aghast. Obviously he didn’t like this news any better than Curt did. There’d been an understanding that Yuri was never supposed to come to the fire station. Their contact had been limited to phone calls and meetings at the White Pride bar.

“What did he want?” Curt asked hoarsely. He had to clear his throat. With an operation of this magnitude, slipups were unacceptable.

“He wants you to call him,” Bob said. “He seemed disappointed you weren’t here.”

“What did you do to him?” another firefighter called out from behind the truck. “Forget to tip him?”

Laughter erupted from a group of four firemen playing cards near the juncture of the firehouse and the sidewalk. The overhead doors were open to the October afternoon.

“Did he leave his name or phone number?” Curt asked.

“Nope,” Bob said. “He just said to have you call him. I thought you’d know who he was.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Curt said.

“Well, maybe he’ll be back,” Bob said.

Curt motioned for Steve to follow him. They climbed the stairs to the living quarters. Curt pushed into the men’s room. Once inside, he checked the stalls and the shower to make sure they were alone.

“I don’t like this,” Curt spat in a forced whisper. “What the hell did he come here for?”

“I told you the guy was a kook,” Steve said.

Curt paced back and forth like a caged animal. He had his mildly prognathous jaw clamped shut. He couldn’t believe Yuri could have been so stupid.

“I’m worried the guy is a kind of a loose cannon,” Steve said. “I think we have to have a talk with him. At the same time, I’d like to see some proof that he hasn’t been taking us for a ride.”

Curt nodded as he paced, then stopped. “All right,” he said. “After work we’ll go by his house in Brighton Beach. We’ll talk some sense into him about security. Then we’ll demand to see his lab and demand some proof he’s doing what he says he’s doing.”

“Do you know his address?” Steve asked.

“Fifteen Oceanview Lane,” Curt said.

_____

FOUR

Monday, October 18

12:30 P.M.

“Knock, knock,” a voice called.

Both Jack and Chet looked up from their desks to see Agnes Finn, the head of the microbiology lab, standing in the doorway.