At the thought of Jana, Archer felt himself growing erect. How he loved her. How he desired her. Sikari had always instructed Archer and Harris to regard her as a sister. Archer enjoyed that. It made things more interesting. He longed to have his sister with him now, but they would be together soon enough.

The journey by helicopter had not taken long, but by the time they landed much of Middleton’s hearing was restored. How wonderful, he thought wryly, that the return of sound should be met by the monstrous roar of the chopper. The Russians who had pulled him in were a taciturn lot, and Middleton suspected they’d been instructed to tell him nothing, but that was fine. Answers, he knew, would be forthcoming.

Middleton glanced down at where they were landing: a beautiful mansion patrolled by “contractors” wearing the uniform of BlueWatch—the very company whose affiliate had funded Devras Sikari’s education—and that he had betrayed by taking his marbles and going home.

He understood that the Scorpion had learned about him and had brought him here.

As they lowered onto the helipad atop one of the mansion’s towers, Middleton had to laugh to himself over this irony. Why had BlueWatch rescued him? And what did they now want with their trophy?

The Russians on board the BlueWatch helicopter firmly, though not forcefully, escorted Middleton out of the chopper and then across the helipad and inside the tower. Only once inside, and away from the relentless noise, did Middleton realize how much his ears were still ringing. Still, he could hear the sounds of his footsteps, the rustle of clothing, the sound he made when he snorted in air through his nose.

One of the Russians, a man with a pale and pasty face and an alarmingly receding chin, and yet the shape of a body builder, led Middleton to the elevator.

“Colonel Middleton,” he said in Russian-inflected English, “I understand if you would wish to clean up before greeting your host, but matters are very urgent. You may clean up afterwards, certainly.”

“Well, that suggests I will still be alive,” said Middleton, enjoying the sound of his own voice. “That’s good news. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper meal. Is there any chance my host can have his urgent conversation with me while I get something to eat?”

The Russian smiled as though indulging the whims of a child. “Mr. Chernayev can arrange anything.”

“That must be gratifying,” said Middleton.