〃What are those triangles？〃 Smith asked。
〃Checkpoints established by the local militia。 We've faxed them his photo and particulars。〃
〃What are their orders？〃
〃Shoot on sight； but not to kill。〃 She noted Smith's startled expression。 〃Our directive describes him as a multiple killer。 Also； that he is HIV…positive。 Believe me； Doctor； no militiaman will touch Yardeni after he's down。〃
〃I was thinking more about what he's carrying。 If a bullet shatters the container…〃
〃I understand your concern about the container； but if Yardeni is spotted； we cannot let him walk away。〃
〃What's the last circle？〃
〃The worst possibility of all： Yardeni had a conspirator with a plane waiting at the Vladimir airfield。〃
〃Have there been any takeoffs？〃
〃None recorded； but that doesn't mean anything。 The new Russia has a surplus of experienced pilots； most of them former air force。 They can land on a highway or in a field； pick up their load； and be gone in minutes。〃
〃President Potrenko has ordered interceptors into the area；〃 Kirov added。 〃Any light aircraft will be challenged。 If it does not ply with instructions； it will be brought down immediately。〃
The wall monitor fascinated Smith。 It seemed a living organism； constantly mutating as the symbols winked and moved。 But he felt that in spite of the impressive array marshaled against the renegade officer； something was missing。
Moving over to the screen； he traced his finger along a white line that began east from Vladimir and ran west to Moscow。
〃What's this？〃
〃The rail line between Kolima in the Urals and Moscow；〃 Kirov replied。 He looked at Telegin。 〃Was there a train scheduled through Vladimir last night？〃
Telegin went to work on the keyboard。
〃There was；〃 she announced。 〃It pulled into Vladimir at three o'clock。〃
〃Too soon for Yardeni to have caught it。〃
Telegin frowned。 〃Not necessarily。 According to the schedule； it should only have been there a few minutes。 But it didn't depart on time。 It stayed an extra twelve minutes。〃
〃Why？〃 Kirov demanded。
〃No reason given。 In fact； it stops only when there are soldiers headed to Moscow on leave…〃
〃But there were no soldiers； were there？〃 Smith said。
〃Good guess； Doctor；〃 Telegin said。 〃No one was scheduled to go on leave。〃
〃So why did the engineer hang around？〃
Kirov stepped over to the puter console。 The time of the murder of the two guards was juxtaposed against the time when the train left Vladimir。 Then that window was measured against the amount of time it would take a man to get from Bioaparat to the train station。
〃He could have done it！〃 Kirov whispered。 〃He could have made the train because it didn't leave on time。〃
〃It was late because somebody held it up！〃 Smith said savagely。 〃Yardeni took the most obvious route。 That son of a bitch knew the roads would be blocked sooner than later。 He didn't have a plane。 He had an acplice； someone who； if necessary； could hold up the train long enough for him to get to it。〃
He turned to Telegin。 〃Then all he had to do was ride it into Moscow。〃
She was punching the keyboard furiously； then looked up。 〃Sixteen minutes；〃 she said hoarsely。 〃It gets into Moscow's central station in sixteen minutes！〃
Ivan Beria shifted with the sway of the train； beyond that； he did not move。
Nor had he taken his eyes off Grigori Yardeni。 The stress of the theft and the subsequent flight； coupled with the effects of the brandy； had done its work。 The Bioaparat guard had fallen asleep within minutes of the train's leaving Vladimir。
Beria leaned toward Yardeni。 He lay so still as to appear dead。 Beria cocked his ear and caught the rattle of shallow breathing。 Yardeni was in a very deep sleep。 It wouldn't take much to make it deeper still。
He slapped him on the cheeks； twice。 〃We're almost there。 Time to get up。〃
Beria looked out the window as the train threaded its way through the giant railyard。 In the reflection； he watched Yardeni yawn and stretch； roll his head to work out the kinks in his neck。 His voice was thick with sleep。
〃Where do we go from here？〃
〃Our separate ways；〃 Beria replied。 〃I will get you through the station and into a taxi。 After that； you're on your own。〃
Yardeni grunted and made a move toward the door。
〃Where are you going？〃 Beria demanded。
〃To the toilet… with your permission。〃
〃Sit down。 Everybody in the car has the same idea。 You'll end up in line。 No point in giving anyone that good a look at you； is there？〃
Yardeni considered； then sat down again。 He ran his hand over one of the parka pockets to reassure himself that the documentation and money were where they should be。 Satisfied； he thought he could hold his water until they reached the station。
When the train entered the tunnel between the yard and the station； the overhead lights flickered； went out briefly； then flickered back on。
〃Let's go；〃 Beria said。
The corridor was filling up with people。 Because of his height； Yardeni had no problem keeping Beria in sight； even in the sputtering light。 Oblivious to the muttered curses； he elbowed his way to the exit。
The train eased into its siding and shuddered to a stop。 The conductor lifted the platform that covered the steps。 Beria and Yardeni were the first ones off； walking swiftly to the front of the train and toward the doors leading to the station proper。
The big van boomed along Moscow's still…empty boulevards。 Inside； Smith； Kirov； and Telegin sat in captain's chairs bolted to the floor。 Telegin was in front of a monitor displaying the city's traffic patterns； every few seconds she spoke to the driver on her headset。
Kirov； too； wore a headset。 Ever since leaving Dzerzhinsky Square； he had been in constant munication with an elite unit of the Federal Security Service。
He swiveled his chair around to face Smith。 〃The train is in… right on schedule； wouldn't you know。〃
〃How far away are we？〃
〃Thirty seconds； maybe less。〃
〃Reinforcements？〃
〃On the way。〃 Kirov paused。 〃Are you familiar with our flying squads？〃 When Smith shook his head； he continued。 〃Unlike your FBI SWAT； we prefer to send ours in undercover。 They dress like tradesmen； greengrocers； street workers… you wouldn't recognize them until it was too late。〃
〃Let's hope it isn't。〃
Through the one…way window； Smith saw the station； a massive； nineteenth…century structure。 He braced himself as the driver veered into a sharp turn and braked hard in front of the main building。 He was on his feet even before the van stopped rocking。
Kirov grabbed his arm。 〃The flying squad has Yardeni's picture。 They'll take him alive； if possible。〃
〃Do they have mine… so they don't shoot me by mistake？〃
〃As a matter of fact； yes。 But stay close to me anyway。〃
The three ducked under the ornate portico and ran into the station。 The interior reminded Smith of a museum； all polished granite； bas relief； and three massive glass domes。 There were few travelers； but the sound of their footsteps was like the rumble of a distant herd。 In the center was a large area with rows of benches； along the sides were souvenir shops； refreshment stands； and news kiosks； most of them still shuttered。 Smith glanced at the large black arrivals/ departures board suspended from the ceiling。
〃How many others are due in？〃
〃We're in luck；〃 Lara Telegin replied。 〃This is the first one。 But in twenty minutes； the muter trains arrive。 The crowds will be unmanageable。〃
〃Which track？〃
She pointed to the right。 〃Over there。 Number seventeen。〃
As they ran for the doors leading to the sidings； Smith turned to Kirov and said； 〃I don't see any of your people around。〃
Kirov tapped the plastic receiver in his ear。 〃Believe me； they're here。〃
The air on the platforms was heavy with diesel fumes。 Smith and the others ran past orange and gray electric lootives； resting in their sidings； until they came up against a stream of people going the other way。 Moving to the side； they began scanning faces。
〃I'm going to find a conductor；〃 Telegin said。 〃Maybe if I show him Yardeni's picture； he'll remember the face。〃
Smith continued to study the passersby who trudged along； their faces puffy from sleep； their sho