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I?”
    “Yep.” She reached out and put a hand gently on his knee.
    “And not a bit like the same man who told me to stay in the FBI whenever I wanted to give up. Who pushed me back into the ring every time I got knocked down.”
    She looked down at her lap for a moment. “I haven’t forgotten the months you spent getting me back on my feet, Peter. Not a second of them.”
    Thorn nodded slowly. While leading an FBI Hostage Rescue Team raid on a terrorist safe house in northern Virginia, Helen had been badly wounded. Her doctors had warned her that her injuries might be permanent. That she might never walk unaided or without a severe limp.
    Well, she’d proved them wrong. It had taken months of rigorous physical therapy—months of constant pain and hard work but she’d regained the full use of her legs.
    He’d encouraged her to fight for her health and her career every step of the way. Some members of the FBI’s old-boy network would have been very happy to see her accept a presidential commendation for heroism and retire on disability. But she’d surprised them all. She’d reported back for active duty with a clean bill of health from every doctor she could corral.
    Thorn smiled to himself. Helen had more courage in one of her little toes than all the bureaucrats at the FBI’s Hoover Building headquarters put together.
    Her sigh startled him. He looked up and found her studying him intently.
    “Peter …” She hesitated, then fell silent. She tried again.
    “Peter, I think we need to talk”
    “Yeah. We do,” Thorn cut in hurriedly. Those were not words he wanted to hear right now. He took his hand off hers and quickly tried to change the subject. “You’ve had more time on the ground here. What’s your first take on this plane crash? Do you buy the accident theory? Or do you think we’re looking at some kind of sabotage ?”
    Christ, I’m babbling like an idiot, he thought.
    Helen rolled her eyes. “Peter Thorn, you are the most irritating man I’ve ever met.” She sounded exasperated beyond endurance.
    Bingo.
    Thorn grinned slowly. “Does that mean you still like me?”
    Almost against her will, Helen matched his grin. “Probably.”
    She shrugged. “Maybe I even still love you.”
    Aware again of the pulse pounding in his ears, Thorn lifted the hand she had on his knee, enclosed it in his own, and pulled her slowly toward him. Her lips parted, met his gently, and then pressed back even harder.
    Suddenly he felt her stiffen.
    Slowly, reluctantly, Helen pulled her lips away from his. She whispered, “Someone’s outside, Peter. I just heard a twig snap.”
    He sat up and faced the tent flap—watching her hand slip toward the shoulder holster hanging from a peg over her cot. Her combat reflexes were obviously still good.
    Someone rapped on the canvas. “Special Agent Gray? You are still awake, I hope ?”
    Helen visibly relaxed. “It’s Alexei Koniev.” She sat back on the cot and smoothed her sweater into shape. “I’m awake, Major.
    Colonel Thorn and I were just talking. Come on in.”
    Koniev slipped through the tent flap and stood looking down at them.
    His eyes twinkled. “I hope I am not interrupting anything of importance.”
    “Nothing much, Major,” Thorn heard himself say stiffly.
    “Ah, that is good.” Koniev tossed his officer’s cap onto Helen’s improvised desk and sat down in the empty folding chair. He crossed his legs casually and leaned forward. “Perhaps we can discuss our strategy for tomorrow, then. Our game plan, I believe you Americans say?”
    Thorn bit down hard on his irritation. Koniev had as much right to visit Helen’s tent as he did—maybe even more. And he couldn’t fault the Russian major for wanting to get a head start on the next day’s work. He just wished the younger man didn’t look so much at home in her company. His love life and this investigation were already complicated enough.

CHAPTER TWO .
EARLY WARNING
    MAY 25
    Headquarters, 125th