Moscow Rules

of his clever smiles. “You didn’t think I was actually going to let those monsters kill her, did you, Allon?”
     
     
    “Of course not, Sergei. Why would I think a thing like that?”
     
     
    “I’m sure you have a few questions.”
     
     
    “A couple thousand, actually.”
     
     
    “We’ll have time for that later. Get back in the car and pretend your hands are still cuffed.”
     

 
    67
     
     
    KALUZHSKAYA O BLAST, RUSSIA
     
     
    Gabriel peered out the car window at the dachas in the trees. He did not see them. Instead, he saw a man who looked like Lenin, seated behind an interrogation table at Lubyanka. It was possible Bulganov was playing some sort of game. Possible, thought Gabriel, but not likely. The colonel had just freed his hands and given him a loaded gun—a gun he could use, if he were so inclined, to splatter the colonel’s brains across the windshield.
     
     
    “What were you and Arkady talking about in Russian?”
     
     
    “He told me he wanted information from you.”
     
     
    “Did he tell you what it was?”
     
     
    “No, he wanted me to take you into the woods and put a gun to your head. I was supposed to give you one more chance to talk before killing you.”
     
     
    “And you agreed to this?”
     
     
    “It’s a long story. The point is, we can use it to our advantage. We’ll walk in the same door we just walked out. I’ll tell Arkady you’ve had a change of heart. That you’re willing to tell him anything he wants to know. Then, when we’re close enough, I’ll shoot him.”
     
     
    "Arkady?”
     
     
    “Yes, I’ll take care of Arkady. That leaves the two other gorillas. They’re both ex-special forces. They know how to handle guns. I’m just an FSB counterintelligence officer. I watch spies.”
     
     
    Bulganov glanced into the rearview mirror.
     
     
    “You can’t walk into the building with the gun in your hand, Allon. You’ll have to hide it somewhere you can get to it quickly. I hear you’re not bad with a gun. Do you think you can get that Makarov out in time to keep those goons from killing us?”
     
     
    Gabriel inserted the Makarov into the waistband of his trousers and concealed it with his coat. “Keep your gun pointed at me until you’re ready. When I see it move toward Arkady, I’ll take that as my cue.”
     
     
    “That leaves the three boys outside.”
     
     
    “They won’t stay outside for long—not when they hear the sound of gunfire inside the warehouse. Whatever you do, don’t offer them a chance to lay down their weapons and surrender. It doesn’t work that way in the real world. Just turn around and start shooting. And don’t miss. We won’t have time to reload.”
     
     
    “You’ve only got eight rounds in that magazine.”
     
     
    “If I have to use more than five, we’re in trouble.”
     
     
    “Can you see well enough?”
     
     
    “I can see just fine.”
     
     
    “I have to admit something to you, Allon.”
     
     
    “What’s that?”
     
     
    “I’ve never shot anyone before.”
     
     
    “Just remember to pull the trigger, Grigori. The gun works much better when you pull the trigger.”
     
     
    The three security guards were still milling about the entrance of the warehouse when Gabriel and Bulganov returned. Someone must have found where Ivan kept the beer because all three were drinking from enormous bottles of Baltika. As Gabriel walked toward the guards, he held his right wrist in his left hand to create the illusion his hands were still cuffed. Bulganov walked a half step behind, Makarov pointed at the center of Gabriel’s back. The guards seemed only moderately interested in their reappearance. Obviously, they were used to seeing condemned men being led around at the point of a gun.
     
     
    It was precisely forty-two paces from the open loading door to the spot where Elena Kharkov sat chained to her metal chair. Gabriel knew this because he counted the steps in his head as he covered the distance now, with Colonel Grigori Bulganov at his side. Colonel Bulganov, who two months earlier had ordered Gabriel to be thrown down two flights of steps in Lubyanka. Colonel Bulganov, who had called himself Sergei that night and said he would kill Gabriel if he ever returned to Russia. Colonel Bulganov, who had never fired a gun in anger before and in whose hands Gabriel’s life now resided.
     
     
    Arkady Medvedev was standing before Elena in his shirtsleeves and screaming obscenities into