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easier to work with?”
    Chutani frowned. “Concessions had to be made. The new man isnot as volatile as Durrani, but he’s still very strong. He has to be able to control certain elements within the ISI. Elements that it will take time to eradicate.”
    “I’m certain he was an excellent choice, and I look forward to meeting him,” Kennedy said, making sure she sounded sincere.
    “Cooperation and stability, Director. That is what will be good for both our countries. Pakistan needs economic growth and education. Those are the only things that will break the influence of the radicals. People with good lives are hesitant to jeopardize them. People who have nothing, on the other hand, are often no better than wild animals.”
    She nodded and took a sip of now-lukewarm tea. “I’ll be happy to deliver your message to President Alexander, sir. I know how much he values your friendship and the friendship of your people.”

CHAPTER 4
    I STANBUL
    T URKEY
    V ASILY Zhutov skirted close to the building next to him, ignoring the dim display window full of electronics. The rain was coming down harder, but instead of pulling the umbrella from his briefcase, he just walked faster.
    His masters in Moscow had thought he was insane when he’d volunteered to fill an open position in Istanbul. It was technically a demotion, but he needed a break if he was going to stave off the middle-aged heart attack suffered by so many of his colleagues.
    Everything in Turkey didn’t revolve around vodka and heavy food, and his new position didn’t rate a car and driver. He’d mapped out this four-kilometer path home from his office the first week he’d arrived. It wound through an area that closed down by the time he got off and was thus devoid of pedestrians who could slow his pace. In less than a month, he’d lost two kilos and cut the time it took to cover the hilly course by almost two minutes.
    He turned left into a cobblestone alleyway and glanced at the numbers counting down on his digital watch. It wasn’t a record speed, but considering the weather and descending darkness, it was respectable.
    More important to his health than the weight loss, though, wasthe fact that he was two thousand kilometers from the Kremlin, where career advancement was a universe unto itself. The job became not so much protecting the interests of Mother Russia as it was protecting one’s own interests. His days had devolved into a blur of questionable political alliances and elaborate plots to destroy his rivals while they hatched similar plots against him.
    That was what had driven him into the arms of the Americans. Of course, Russia’s leaders would loudly condemn him as a traitor if they found out, but deep down they knew it was they who had betrayed their country. They who were turning it into a corrupt basket case barely kept afloat by natural resources gouged from the land.
    There was no innovation, no plan for the future, no attempt to meaningfully engage the West. Only the occasional flexing of military muscle to stir the people’s nationalism and blind them to the fact that they had no more hope now than they did under the communists.
    Zhutov was forced to divert around a van moving across the entrance to a square dominated by an empty playground. He looked through the rain at the rusting equipment and once again considered how it could be used to enhance his daily exercise routine. Would a pull-up be achievable before he was recalled to headquarters? His doctor had urged caution, but at forty-three it seemed in the realm of possibility.
    The van began to move and Zhutov adjusted his trajectory to cut across its rear. When he did, the driver slammed on the brakes, fishtailing on the slick cobbles. The back doors were thrown open and he stumbled to the right, barely avoiding being hit by one.
    Despite extensive training in his youth, Zhutov froze. He found himself unable to resist as a man leapt out of the vehicle and grabbed him by the front of