doubt swept over his face. "So they all come here at once. How will that help us?"
"Konstantin's coming right over. He's going to bait the trap for us." Frank eyed the disc jockey. "We should get some music going. You think the deejay takes requests?" He got up and walked to the far end of the floor just as Konstantin stormed in.
There was a flush of excitement on Konstantin's face, but when he saw Joe, he calmed down and walked over to his table.
"You have good news?" he asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Joe replied. He waved a thumb at Frank, who was deep in conversation with the disc jockey. "Ask him."
As the sound of the Rolling Stones filled the room, Frank came back and sat down. "We found what Martin left us," he said.
"We did?" said Joe.
From his pocket Frank dug two Rolling Stones cassette cases. He slid them across the table to Konstantin. "Identical in every way. Except I had one copy when I left New York and two after Martin used my tape player." He opened one of the cases. It was empty. He put it into his pocket. "The deejay's playing my tape. The other tape has Martin's info. I didn't know it until I took the tapes from the police warehouse."
Konstantin slowly tapped his forehead, thinking, then dropped a finger on top of the remaining case. "Ingenious. You have listened to the tape?"
Frank shook his head. "I thought I'd leave that to you."
"Good." With a flick of his wrist Konstantin flung the case open. The cassette inside crashed to the floor. Before Joe or Frank could react, he stamped it with his heel, tearing tape and sending bits of plastic flying in all directions.
"Much better. So much off my mind," the Russian said.
Joe stared from Konstantin to the wrecked cassette on the floor, his eyes growing wide with sudden realization. "It was you," he said slowly. "Vladimir isn't the mole! It was you all along."
Chapter 16
JOE LUNGED ACROSS the table, grabbing at Konstantin. The Russian's laughter faded, and from under the table came the telltale click of a revolver hammer being cocked. Joe froze, his fingers inches from Konstantin. And trembling with frustration, he let his hands fall back to the table.
"Sit down," Konstantin said. Joe sat. A dozen men and women came in together, smiling and laughing, and walked past the table to the dance floor. "Do not move. Do not attempt to speak to anyone," the Russian warned.
"What are you going to do with us?" Joe asked.
"We'll disappear," Frank said. "Just like our chauffeur disappeared. You'd know more about that than we would, right, Konstantin?"
Konstantin gave him a cold stare.
"Funny how you knew about him," Frank continued. "We told the Gray Man about our chauffeur, and we told the Spanish police. But we never told Vladimir. And we never told you. There's only one way you could know."
"You're right," said Joe, studying Konstantin as if seeing him for the first time. "Dark wig, fake mustache, sunglasses. Konstantin was our chauffeur!"
"Shut up," Konstantin said.
"What are you going to do? Kill us here?" Frank asked as another group entered. "You'll have a lot of witnesses. It won't do much good to save yourself from the KGB only to have the Spanish police throw you in jail for the rest of your life. Seems to me we have a stalemate."
A man from one of the groups stepped to the bar and ordered a drink. Like his friends, he was dressed in tight black slacks and a bright silky shirt. But his hair had gone prematurely gray.
As he picked up his drink, he turned slightly and raised it to Frank and Joe, catching their eyes. Before Konstantin noticed, he turned back to the bar.
It was the Gray Man.
"No stalemate," Konstantin replied. "I would prefer not to cause trouble here. But should it be necessary, I can be out of the country within the hour. Please do not force my hand."
"It won't work," Joe said. "Frank called Melendez and Vladimir, and they'll be here any minute. You don't have time to do anything to us. You barely have time to get
"Konstantin's coming right over. He's going to bait the trap for us." Frank eyed the disc jockey. "We should get some music going. You think the deejay takes requests?" He got up and walked to the far end of the floor just as Konstantin stormed in.
There was a flush of excitement on Konstantin's face, but when he saw Joe, he calmed down and walked over to his table.
"You have good news?" he asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Joe replied. He waved a thumb at Frank, who was deep in conversation with the disc jockey. "Ask him."
As the sound of the Rolling Stones filled the room, Frank came back and sat down. "We found what Martin left us," he said.
"We did?" said Joe.
From his pocket Frank dug two Rolling Stones cassette cases. He slid them across the table to Konstantin. "Identical in every way. Except I had one copy when I left New York and two after Martin used my tape player." He opened one of the cases. It was empty. He put it into his pocket. "The deejay's playing my tape. The other tape has Martin's info. I didn't know it until I took the tapes from the police warehouse."
Konstantin slowly tapped his forehead, thinking, then dropped a finger on top of the remaining case. "Ingenious. You have listened to the tape?"
Frank shook his head. "I thought I'd leave that to you."
"Good." With a flick of his wrist Konstantin flung the case open. The cassette inside crashed to the floor. Before Joe or Frank could react, he stamped it with his heel, tearing tape and sending bits of plastic flying in all directions.
"Much better. So much off my mind," the Russian said.
Joe stared from Konstantin to the wrecked cassette on the floor, his eyes growing wide with sudden realization. "It was you," he said slowly. "Vladimir isn't the mole! It was you all along."
Chapter 16
JOE LUNGED ACROSS the table, grabbing at Konstantin. The Russian's laughter faded, and from under the table came the telltale click of a revolver hammer being cocked. Joe froze, his fingers inches from Konstantin. And trembling with frustration, he let his hands fall back to the table.
"Sit down," Konstantin said. Joe sat. A dozen men and women came in together, smiling and laughing, and walked past the table to the dance floor. "Do not move. Do not attempt to speak to anyone," the Russian warned.
"What are you going to do with us?" Joe asked.
"We'll disappear," Frank said. "Just like our chauffeur disappeared. You'd know more about that than we would, right, Konstantin?"
Konstantin gave him a cold stare.
"Funny how you knew about him," Frank continued. "We told the Gray Man about our chauffeur, and we told the Spanish police. But we never told Vladimir. And we never told you. There's only one way you could know."
"You're right," said Joe, studying Konstantin as if seeing him for the first time. "Dark wig, fake mustache, sunglasses. Konstantin was our chauffeur!"
"Shut up," Konstantin said.
"What are you going to do? Kill us here?" Frank asked as another group entered. "You'll have a lot of witnesses. It won't do much good to save yourself from the KGB only to have the Spanish police throw you in jail for the rest of your life. Seems to me we have a stalemate."
A man from one of the groups stepped to the bar and ordered a drink. Like his friends, he was dressed in tight black slacks and a bright silky shirt. But his hair had gone prematurely gray.
As he picked up his drink, he turned slightly and raised it to Frank and Joe, catching their eyes. Before Konstantin noticed, he turned back to the bar.
It was the Gray Man.
"No stalemate," Konstantin replied. "I would prefer not to cause trouble here. But should it be necessary, I can be out of the country within the hour. Please do not force my hand."
"It won't work," Joe said. "Frank called Melendez and Vladimir, and they'll be here any minute. You don't have time to do anything to us. You barely have time to get
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