That wasn’t a question. It was a test. “One of my people was killed, another badly wounded, by an explosion in Florida at a location linked to Sikari. The device used was thermobaric, which suggested a Russian source, given the army’s use of such weaponry in Chechnya and—”

The man raised his hand. “Please, Mr. Middleton, do not insult me.” The smile faded. “U.S. Marines have used thermobaric weapons in Iraq. They were used extensively in the second battle for Fallujah. The device is called a SMAW, shoulder-launched multi-purpose assault weapon. It was used against fortified positions—houses, mosques. You think we don’t know this? Good God, a six-year-old who can Google could tell me as much.”

Middleton replied, “And did you think I wouldn’t have other leads?”

“I’m serious, Mr. Middleton. If you are not candid with me, your value plummets. Especially vis-à-vis the sums of cash being offered.”

Middleton pulled the collar of his overcoat tight against the chill. “If you’ll let me finish? This Russian connection was Arkady Chernayev. I hope to speak to him. I want to know about these explosives.”

The man’s smile vanished entirely. “You were going to talk with Arkady Chernayev.”

“I had to try.”

“To accomplish what? Do you hear what you sound like?”

“The group I represent does not have much but persuasion in its arsenal.”

“You hoped to persuade him.”

“Yes.”

“You’re either a fool or a liar.”

For a moment Middleton wondered if he’d been wrong. Perhaps this man wasn’t some rogue intelligence agent after all, but one of Chernayev’s operatives—though his protestations had a vaguely theatrical ring. He was vamping, trying to goad a response. And what would Middleton tell him—the truth? That he believed Chernayev and a great many other Russians saw an arms race on the subcontinent as inevitable. Worse, that China, before that arms race proceeded much further, would invade Kashmir from its own controlled areas in Aksai Chin and the Trans-Karakoram Tract, doing so for the water, contriving some pretext for the offensive such as protecting an otherwise expendable ethnic minority. Russia could either get drawn into a ground war with China or let proxies wage the fight for it—enter Chernayev. The reason his company had been bailed out during the recent financial crisis was because of his pledge to use his private army to facilitate the development of a friendly force in Kashmir—nationalists perhaps, rabid idealists no doubt, but still susceptible to simple bribery. Would they remain so with a secret source of heavy water, a cache of nuclear arms? Was Chernayev aware of the copper bracelet? Were his Russian facilitators?

All of this went through Middleton’s mind as he pondered the man’s question: Why would Chernayev involve himself in such an outlandish scheme?