Radiant Angel by Nelson DeMille Page A

observation.” He also let me know, “Tess has become perhaps overly fond of you.” He confided, “We almost took her off the case.”
    “I already did that, and I also took her gun. That’s how much I believe her bullshit and your bullshit.”
    “Even within a masquerade, some things are real.”
    I strongly advised him, “Get to Vasily Petrov.”
    “All right. Colonel Vasily Petrov is the son of Vladimir Petrov, a KGB general who once headed SMERSH.”
    “I know that.”
    “Then you also know that Junior is in a similar line of work.”
    “I thought he was a U.N. delegate for human rights.”
    “Well, he is, but he doesn’t know much about that.” He thought a moment, then said, “Tess tells me that Petrov and his two companions were acting a bit odd at Tamorov’s party.”
    “Right.”
    He smiled. “When a Russian isn’t drinking at a party, something is not right.” He thought again, then said, “And then Petrov, Fradkov, and Gorsky got into an amphibious craft and sailed off.”
    “Correct.”
    “I understand you’ve gotten the county police to mount a sea-and-air search for that amphibious craft.”
    “Also correct.”
    “What do you think their chances are of finding that craft, or discovering where Petrov was taken?”
    “Chances were good two hours ago. Not so good now.”
    He thought about that, then replied, “It is my understanding that your only interest in this is to find the surveillance target you lost.”
    “Right.”
    “But I think I know you, John. And I believe you’ve thought about Vasily Petrov and why he may be in America.”
    I didn’t reply.
    “Colonel Petrov,” he went on, “has as little knowledge of espionage as he does of human rights. He is a killer.”
    “We all know that, Buck.”
    “And Viktor Gorsky is also a killer.”
    “And Fradkov?”
    “That’s another matter. I will return to Pavel Fradkov later. But for now, I’d like you to continue your efforts with this Captain Kalish to locate our missing Russians.”
    My next stop was probably Tamorov’s house, so I asked, “What is the relationship between Petrov and Georgi Tamorov?”
    “Good question. And the answer is, we don’t know. But if I had to guess, I’d say it is as it seems—a relationship of mutual convenience. Tamorov wants the friendship of a powerful SVR colonel, and Colonel Petrov enjoys the hospitality of a rich oligarch.”
    “Petrov wasn’t enjoying himself tonight. He didn’t even get laid.”
    Buck forced a smile. “But he did take a dozen young ladies with him. So it appears that Petrov was using Tamorov’s beach house tonight as a place where he was to meet this amphibious craft, which was presumably taking him and his friends to another party.”
    And maybe, I thought, Petrov collected some tools of his and Gorsky’s trade at Tamorov’s house that they couldn’t carry in their car. But that supposed Petrov was up to something. I mean, did he take off out the back door in a boat to give his DSG followers the slip because he was up to something? Or did he take off in a boat because he had another party to go to? That was the question.
    Buck closed his eyes and I thought the old guy had nodded off, but he said, “I tried to convince my colleagues that the Russian threat was not being taken seriously. The intelligence establishment and the military and diplomatic community are funneling vast resources into the war on Islamic terrorism because of 9/11. And they are ignoring the awakening bear.”
    I’d expect that from Buck, whose glory days were behind him. But I agreed with him that the Cold War was back and no one was paying attention.
    Meanwhile, he wasn’t giving me the promised briefing, so I asked, “Is Petrov going to whack someone tonight?”
    “I’ll get to that later.” He changed the subject and said, “I’ve also had the Coast Guard alerted, and they’ve agreed to send some boats and a helicopter to conduct a search. But as I discovered, their