The Project 04 - Black Harvest

which included an Operations Department. The Operations Department in turn included an elite Special Operations Group known as Zaslon. Zaslon did not officially exist.
    All Zaslon personnel were Spetsnaz, the best fighting men in Russia. Every member of Zaslon was trained for specialized foreign assignment and spoke at least three languages. Every member had demonstrated superior performance in a variety of secret military units. All had proved their courage under fire. They were fiercely loyal to the Rodina, the Motherland.
    Zaslon was the sword of the Motherland. No enemies of Russia survived when Zaslon went looking for them.
    Internal security within the Federation was handled by the FSB, the Federal'naya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti, headquartered at the old KGB headquarters in the Lubyanka east of Red Square. One area of friction between SVR and FSB concerned the growing power of the criminal gangs. The gang bosses controlled too much of Russia's wealth. Their wealth was manipulated from within the country, which made it FSB's problem. But gang operations extended far out into the world. As far as Eastern and Western Europe. As far as America. That made it Alexei's concern.
    Sometimes carefully planned operations against the gangs went wrong, especially when operations concerned Zviad Gelashvili. General Vysotsky suspected a leak in the Lubyanka. Gelashvili was getting too powerful. He had become a danger to the Motherland. Alexei was determined to take him down.
    Vysotsky was a genuine patriot. With the new administration things were changing. Alexei had high hopes. Hopes for a Russia reborn, without corrupt criminals shaping the future. A Russia respected and feared by the world.
    Alexei was a handsome man in an elegant and menacing way, but he hadn't gotten where he was on good looks. Nor was it his ruthlessness. That went with his job. What had carried him to his position of power was instinct, a real sense for feeling out danger to the Motherland.
    In his hands he held a report from an agent embedded deep in the American NSA. The report concerned the deaths of three scientists in America. As he read, the top of his skull tingled.
    On the surface it didn't appear to be a security threat. Yet it was odd that all three were top researchers in the study of viruses. The report provided a translation of the cuneiform tablets and noted the possible connection to Alexander's treasure. It speculated that the killings might have been motivated by greed.
    Not obviously a threat. Yet he had that tingle, that buzz of warning on the top of his head. Alexei always paid attention to that tingle. He decided to follow up on the report.

CHAPTER SIX

    Afternoon sun poured over a set of glossy pictures spread out on the L-shaped kitchen countertop in Nick's apartment. The pictures were of a new luxury condo for sale near Du Pont Circle and the Convention Center in downtown D.C. A glass of Cabernet stood close by Selena's hand. Nick poured a fresh Irish whiskey. It was his third. He had a good buzz going.
    Selena pointed at a photo. "The building has a great workout center. There's a pool on the roof. The price is good, too."
    Nick read the price, discreetly printed near the bottom of the page. Seven figures, financing available. Three bedrooms, three baths, "well appointed kitchen", pantry and an enormous living room. The condo had a view that almost reached to the Rockies.
    If Selena decided to buy it, she could write a check. It reminded Nick of the unbridgeable money gap between them. It hadn't come up much until now. The beautiful polished floors and sweeping views in the pictures made him feel his middle class roots to the bone.
    "A bargain. Must be the lousy economy."
    If Selena caught the irony in his tone she didn't show it.
    "Now that I'm in D.C. all the time I thought I should get something permanent. Those rooms at the Mayflower are nice, but it's always been a temporary thing."
    "What about your place in San Francisco?"
    "Oh, I'll keep that. I love it. I'll pull a few of the art pieces and lease it out. I know someone who can handle that for me. I'm not using it now, but I don't want to let it go."
    Some of the art pieces she referred to were priceless. One was a Paul Klee original. Nick supposed it would look as good in Washington as in San Francisco. He liked Paul Klee. He glanced at the reproduction Klee hanging over his couch. That one had cost ninety-nine dollars, ninety-five cents. Plus shipping.
    "I think it's