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years. First time around it was for their original realtime computer. It’s been back three or four times since. Don’t deny it, this is Air Force stuff, and we both know it.”
    “You’re only guessing.”
    “Sure,” Charlie answered with a predator’s grin. “But how many times have you known me to guess wrong?”
    Sam started to reply, then stopped himself.
    “Okay,” Charlie continued, “tell me again about how this Kolodenkova girl managed to get away.”
    “You should call her a woman, not a girl.”
    “I don’t work for the government anymore. I can be as politically incorrect as I damn well please. Now let’s have the story.”
    “I told you once. Why should I tell you twice?”
    “Because I need a laugh.”
    Charlie’s cat strolled back in. Looking daggers at it, Sam sneezed. “Okay, okay. You’re wearing out my patience, but I suppose that’s what you want.”
    Got it in one, Sambo, Charlie thought.
    “When the second generator went out, things became confused. There were two foot patrols and a crew in a Hummer near the fence. Somebody tripped and discharged his weapon. The GIs in the other patrol thought they were being shot at. They returned fire. Damnit, Charlie, quit laughing. I know it sounds like the Keystone Kops, but it was it is serious business. Anyway, by the time everyone worked out who was shooting at whom, the
    Kolodenkova woman had reached her car. Our boys managed to put a few rounds into it, but not enough. She hightailed it out of there. So…” Sam sighed. “.. . You see, it’s a small base, Charlie, sixty enlisted men, five noncoms two officers, and a few dozen civilian scientists. The only transportation they have are deuce-and-a-half trucks and Humvees no good for highspeed pursuit. The base commander had to radio for help. Problem is the second explosion damaged the radio shack. It took a while to get communications back online.”
    Had to radio for help? Hmm … that should tell me something. “How long were they offline?” he asked.
    Closing his eyes, pressing the balls of his fingers against his sinuses, Sam whispered, “Four fucking hours.”
    “Even if Kolodenkova kept under the speed limit, she’d have been at least two hundred miles away before “
    “You think I don’t know that? You think that little fact has escaped my attention?”
    Charlie always trusted his intuition. At the moment it was telling him he was pushing too hard. “Just thinking out loud, Sam. No criticism implied. Now I think you’d better let me see the dossiers on these two the late Dominik whatever-his-name-was, and the Kolodenkova girl.”
    Sam snapped open his briefcase. “They’re right here,” he said, passing Charlie two manila folders.
    “How did you ID them so fast?”
    Sam sniffed. “Give us some credit, Charlie, we do know who plays for the other team.”
    Nodding, Charlie opened the first folder. Dominik Grisin. Age twenty-nine. His photos portrayed a handsome lad with a high forehead, thick black hair, and a strong jaw. Born in Belgorod. That explained his good looks Ukrainian blood.
    Master’s degree in electrical engineering at the University of Kiev, a fine school; its mascot, Charlie remembered, was a wise-cracking duckling. After college Grisin pulled six years of duty with the Russian embassy in Washington one of the Siglnt specialists who baby sat the radio interception gear in the embassy’s basement. Charlie wondered how many indiscreet cell phone calls the late Dominik had tapped. And what prices the power brokers who made them later paid.
    Two months on turtle duty. Hmm… why was that? Was Grisin being punished? Not likely. If his dossier could be believed, Dominik had been a rising star. So then … he probably had been assigned short-term, a job to give him a little applied field craft before he moved up the ladder.
    Charlie raced through the file. No use studying the record of a player whose piece was no longer on the board. The real issue was the