close and smiled.
He hoped the end would be quick, but knew that it wouldn't.
Hayes looked up from the speaker as Maxim Zubarev entered the room. He'd listened to the entire exchange with Lord from down the hall, courtesy of a room microphone.
He, Khrushchev, Droopy, and Orleg had left Moscow the previous night within hours after the call verifying Lord's location. An eleven-hour time difference had allowed them to travel nine thousand miles and arrive by the time Lord was having lunch in San Francisco. Thanks to Zubarev's government connections, police visas had been arranged for Orleg and Droopy. What Khrushchev had just told Lord was true. A call had secured the help of the FBI and customs in locating Lord and Akilina Petrovna if needed, but Hayes had declined American intervention, hoping to keep the situation confined. An easy exit from California and back to Russia for Lord and Petrovna was arranged through the State Department, few questions to be asked by Immigration at the San Francisco airport, a Russian warrant for murder the means of securing unquestioned American assistance. The idea was to contain exposure and stop whatever it was Lord was intent on finding. The problem was they still did not really know whatthat was, beyond some incredible assertion that perhaps somewhere in the United States was a direct descendant of Nicholas II.
"Your Mr. Lord is a defiant man," Khrushshev said, as he closed the door.
"But why?"
Khrushchev sat. "That is the question of the day. When I left, Orleg was stripping two wires from one of the lamps. Some electricity surging through his body might loosen his tongue before we kill him."
Through the speaker Hayes heard Droopy's voice as he told Orleg to cram the plug back in the wall socket. An amplified scream that lasted fifteen seconds pierced the room.
"Maybe you might reconsider telling us what we want to know," Orleg's voice said.
There was no reply.
Another scream. This one longer.
Khrushchev reached across the desk to a candy dish and fingered a chocolate ball. He unwrapped the gold foil and popped the morsel into his mouth. "They will continue lengthening the amount of electricity until his heart gives out. It will be a painful death."
The tone was cold, but Hayes had little sympathy for Lord. The fool had placed him in a difficult situation, his irrational actions jeopardizing a lot of planning and millions of dollars. He now wanted to know everything as badly as these Russians.
Another scream rattled the speaker.
The phone on the desk buzzed and he lifted the receiver. A voice on the other end informed him that a call had come in through the switchboard downstairs for Miles Lord. The receptionist thought it important and decided to see if Mr. Lord was available to take the call.
"No," Hayes said. "Mr. Lord is in a conference right now. Put the call through to here." He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. "Shut that speaker off."
A click in his ear and a female voice asked through the phone, "Miles. Are you all right?" She spoke Russian.
"Mr. Lord is not available at the moment. He asked me to speak with you," he said.
"Where is Miles? Who are you?"
"You must be Akilina Petrovna."
"How do you know that?"
"Miss Petrovna. It is important we speak."
"I've got nothing to say."
He motioned to switch the speaker back on. A crackled scream instantly blared.
"Did you hear that, Miss Petrovna? That is Miles Lord. He's being questioned at the moment by a determined Moscowmilitsya. You could end his pain by simply telling us where you are and waiting there."
Silence on the other end.
Another scream.
"Electricity is being passed through his body. I doubt his heart can take much more."
The phone clicked dead.
He stared at the receiver.
The screaming stopped.
"The bitch hung up." He looked at Khrushchev. "Determined people, aren't they?"
"Very. We must learn what they know. Your idea of tricking Lord was a good one, but it failed."
"I'm betting these two are more coordinated than we think. Lord was smart to hide her. But they had to have a way to reconnect, if this wasn't a trap."
Zubarev sighed. "I'm afraid there's no way to find her now."
He smiled. "I wouldn't say that."
THIRTY-SEVEN
4:30 PM
AKILINA WAS FORCING BACK TEARS.SHE STOOD AT A PAY PHONE,the surrounding sidewalk busy with shoppers and pedestrians. She could still hear Lord's scream. What was she going to do? Lord had expressly forbidden her to call the police. He'd also made it clear that she was not to go to the Russian consulate.