The Solomon Effect by C. S. Graham

unusually high body count, even for Russia. And then I hear that Jason Aldrich has booked a flight to Kaliningrad.” He paused to look at Jax. “Don’t you ever change your cover identity?”
    “There wasn’t a lot of time.”
    “Evidently.” Andrei inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing against the smoke. “I ask myself, what has happened, is happening, or is about to happen in Kaliningrad Oblast that’s unusual? I think about that incident near the Vistula Lagoon, and I find my curiosity piqued.”
    His gaze shifted to October. He said, “So I leave my nice, comfortable office in Moscow and travel down to this godforsaken place, expecting to meet my old friend Jax Alexander at the airport and show him a good time in Kaliningrad. And what happens? A beautiful young American Naval officer flies in that same morning.”
    October squirmed uncomfortably, but said nothing.
    Andrei spread his arms wide, then dropped them to his sides. “So, here I am. I have a salvage ship with thirteen dead bodies, a dead night watchman, a live CIA agent, and an American Naval officer with an interesting past, all showing up in Kaliningrad Oblast at roughly the same time. So now I ask you, Jax, what is going on here?”
    Jax leaned back against the window, his gaze on his old adversary’s battle-scarred face. His options were severely limited, and he knew it. If he tried to stonewall Andrei, the Russian would have them both on the next flight out of Kaliningrad—or worse. There were times when the truth was the best option. “It’s about Nazi gold.”
    October threw him a quick, incredulous glance, while Andrei—caught with a lungful of cigarette smoke—fell into a coughing fit. “What?” he said when he was able.
    “The militia didn’t by any chance find an old German U-boat at this shipyard, did they?”
    Andrei’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that? We haven’t even notified Berlin yet.”
    “We saw it,” said Jax. He was aware of October giving him another look. But Jax knew what Andrei wouldthink—that the Americans had “seen” the sub on a satellite image.
    Andrei cupped his hand around his cigarette to scratch behind his right ear. “What is your interest in the U-boat?”
    Choosing his words carefully, Jax laid it all out for him—the missing sub, the Nazi gold, the link to a looming terrorist hit on the United States.
    At the end of it all, Andrei blew out a long stream of smoke, his eyes twinkling with silent laughter. “And you expect me to believe this?”
    Jax shrugged. “It’s what they told me.”
    Andrei’s smile widened. “I take it you’re still in Division Thirteen?”
    “What do you think?”
    The Russian swung his head to fix October with a hard stare. He was no longer smiling. “And you?”
    She froze, her eyes widening in a deer-in-the-headlights look.
    Jax answered for her. “The CIA didn’t anticipate me receiving such a warm and personal reception from the SVR. Since my Russian’s no better than it used to be, they sent Ensign Guinness along as a translator.”
    “Her command of the language is certainly better than yours ever was,” said Andrei, his gaze still on Tobie. “Tell me, Ensign, did you learn Russian before or after your psychiatric discharge from the Navy?”
    “Before.”
    She said it calmly enough, although Jax knew that psychiatric discharge was a sensitive subject with her. Which was, of course, why Andrei mentioned it. Andrei was very good at finding sore points and pressing on them.
    “That’s the only reason you’re here?”
    Jax said, “What other reason could there be?”
    Rather than answer, Andrei said, “You do realize, ofcourse, that if there ever was any gold on that U-boat, it’s not there anymore?”
    It was common knowledge among Russians that when the militia investigated a robbery, anything the thieves missed, the militia took. Jax said, “It’s not the gold I want. I want the guys who hired that salvage ship in the first