The 14th Colony: A Novel by Steve Berry Page B

minutes of meetings, and constitution. The copyright is from 1847.”
    “What’s the Cincinnati?” Luke asked her.
    She ignored him and restudied the shelves that surrounded them. “This is an archive, one I bet the Society of Cincinnati has no idea still exists.” She paused. “Otherwise it would have been retrieved.” Stephanie faced Osin. “Why is Anya Petrova interested in something like this?”
    No reply.
    “Earlier, you mentioned Forward Pass,” she tried. “To my knowledge, that operation is still classified. The only way you could know anything about it is from your own records.”
    “We know exactly what was done,” Osin said.
    Which Luke immediately wanted to know, too.
    “Does that mean Aleksandr Zorin knows?” she asked.
    “I’m sure he does. And Belchenko knows even more.”
    “Including where those missing nukes are located?”
    Luke stood silent and allowed the sparring to continue uninterrupted. But had he heard right? “Missing nukes” ? He figured Stephanie would clue him in when the time was right.
    She turned toward him. “Did Petrova leave here with anything?”
    He shook his head. “Not that I saw.”
    “Then this was a dead end for her. Nikolai, you said you would be direct. Why did she come here?”
    Uncharacteristically, Stephanie’s voice had risen.
    “I will answer that after I speak with Moscow. Some things I must discuss in private first.”
    “I sent my man to Siberia on your request,” she said. “He went in blind, and now he’s missing.”
    “We’ve allowed you to send another asset to investigate.”
    “Not good enough. What’s going on?”
    “I cannot say. At least for the moment.”
    Luke heard concern in the voice, which seemed genuine, and unusual for the SVR.
    “I have to report all of this to the president,” she said. “It’ll be his call what to do next.”
    “I understand.”
    The Russian left the secret room without saying another word.
    Luke stared at his former boss. “This is a deep pile of crap, isn’t it?”
    She carefully replaced the glass dome atop the book and the easel. Dust gently cascaded off the sides and onto the tabletop, glistening in the light.
    “That’d be a good way to describe it,” she whispered.
    “Do you know what the Cincinnati is?” he asked again.
    She slowly nodded.
    “Can you tell me?”
    She turned to leave.
    “Not here.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    L AKE B AIKAL
    7:50 P.M.
    Zorin returned to the dacha and immediately headed into the main house. He’d been told on arrival that the American, Malone, had been captured. So he took his time removing his coat and gloves. He’d be glad to leave this weather behind. Summer was so fleeting in this part of the world, and he longed for a steady warm breeze. What the next few days held for him was hard to say. All that he could hope for was that his recollections were correct, his research accurate, his planning thorough, and his resolve intact. He’d been idle far too long and he liked the feeling of being on the move again. Everything about him was primed and ready. Only this new wrinkle—the presence of an American—had proved unexpected.
    Yet even that excited him.
    He passed through the great room with its high ceiling and unobstructed views of the frozen lake. A welcomed fire burned in the hearth. He found the staircase to the basement and descended to where Malone stood handcuffed to a thick iron pipe. Light came from bare bulbs wrapped in iron cages that cut sharply etched shadows. The American’s coat had been removed, as had apparently a weapon since a shoulder holster hung empty.
    “You killed two of my men,” he said.
    Malone shrugged. “That’s what happens when you start shooting at someone.”
    “Why are you here?”
    “To find the old man, Belchenko, who clearly doesn’t want to be found. My mistake.”
    “And two of my men are dead.”
    “Whom you sent to kill me.”
    “Are you a spy?”
    “I’m a bookseller.”
    He chuckled. “You told me