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  Not anymore.

  “Last year I was in command of one of the most sophisticated nuclear submarines on the planet,” he said evenly. “No offense to the scientific expedition, but demoting me to driving this sorry rust bucket is the Main Naval Command’s not-so-subtle way of telling me I should retire,” he said in disgust.

  “But why?” she asked, her eyes filled with guileless incomprehension. God, she was sweet. “What happened?”

  He shook his head, realizing he’d already said too much. He was a big boy. He didn’t want her pity. “Some other time.”

  She tilted her head. “Nikolai, you asked me to tell you everything, but you constantly put me off until later. That’s not mutual trust.”

  He gazed out over the darkened sea, a field of slate blue spangled with the silver glitter of a thousand pieces of floating ice sparkling in the midnight sun. He felt like one of those ice chunks, alone and suspended in a harsh, thankless environment not quite cold enough to freeze you into a block of emotionless apathy, but instead slowly ate away at your body and your soul, your very humanity, until there was nothing left of you.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re right.”

  It wasn’t as if she couldn’t just Google it anyway.

  “My last command was a Project 971 Shchuka, a top-of-the-line nuclear submarine. While out on patrol we collided with a Norwegian submarine during a surfacing. The Norwegian’s propeller was clipped clean off.”

  She winced. “Ouch,” she said.

  “Ouch, indeed. Our sonar had shorted out because of a faulty gasket that had been slated to be replaced but wasn’t, and we were coming to the surface to avoid driving blind.”

  “Jesus.”

  “It happened in Varangerfjørd. In the very north of Norway. Right next to the Russian border, close to the Northern Fleet headquarters.” Surely she’d heard of it. Every news service in the world had made a huge deal about the incident.

  “It was obviously an accident,” she said. “If your sonar wasn’t working, they can’t blame you for that. Was anyone hurt?”

  Not unless you counted his career. “The Norwegian boat sank, but luckily the crew was able to escape onto inflatables before it went down,” he said.

  Suddenly her eyes popped. “Oh, my God! That accident? In that storm last fall? The Russian sub that stopped to pluck up the Norwegians from their life rafts?”

  “A bad storm was brewing. If we hadn’t, they would have died for sure,” he said. He looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

  “But the press hailed you as heroes!” she exclaimed. “Why would your navy want you to retire because of that?”

  His gaze slid away. “The navy brass didn’t see us as heroes. Ironically, it wasn’t the collision but the rescue that got me in trouble.”

  “You’re kidding me,” she said, incredulous.

  “Unfortunately, it happened just inside Norway’s territorial waters. When I reported the collision to my superiors, I was given direct orders to leave the area immediately.”

  “And just leave the Norwegians stranded out there in the freezing water during a storm?” She looked horrified.

  He nodded. “To avoid exactly the kind of international incident that resulted. The Norwegian government protested loudly. And Russia could hardly deny culpability, under the circumstances. The president was forced to give away some very expensive concessions in a contract my government was negotiating with Norway for the disposal of dozens of our derelict nuclear submarines that are endangering the Barents Sea coast with leaking nuclear materials.”

  “And as captain, you took the blame.”

  Nikolai spread his hands, indicating the Ostrov. “When the dust settled, this is where I landed.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, gazing out over the achingly lonely twilight seascape. In the distance, a whale broke the surface of the water, looking gray and ghostly.

  “Oh, look!” Julie exclaimed as the whale spouted and flicked its tail up out of the water, then was joined by first one, then two, then three others, breaching and shooting up through the liquid gold of the pale reflected light. A calf appeared, hugging its mother’s side as the pod danced in the water, a fitting homage to the midnight sun.

  Nikolai put his arms around Julie and together they quietly watched until, all too soon, the whales disappeared.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered, and he kissed the top of her head.

  “Yes.” He’d miss sights like this when he was no longer in the navy. Maybe he could get a job on a fishing boat.

  “You should come work for us,” she said, shocking him out of his bleak thoughts.

  “What?” he asked, not quite believing his ears. He turned her in his arms.

  “Our navy would love to have a man like you.”

  It was his turn to stare incredulously. Then he let out a bark of laughter. Touché. Despite himself, he grinned. Perhaps she was not so innocent and guileless after all. She’d timed that to perfection, at exactly his most vulnerable moment.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “But now it’s your turn to talk. And Julie, I want to know everything.”

  She nodded, stepped out of his arms, and started her explanation. “The thing I’ve been searching for on Ostrov is a micro storage card containing a new Chinese guidance system for their stealth UUVs.”

  He grew more and more alarmed as the story spilled out of her. About the dead Chinese and Russian double agents, about the circuitous route from China to Rybachiy by which the stolen SD card had ended up on his submarine, and about how she’d been hastily plucked from her job as a China desk analyst at CIA to replace the injured field operative. Nikolai suspected Julie’s knowledge of China at least in part explained why they’d chosen her, a complete neophyte when it came to the spy business, for this mission. She was an expert on all things Chinese.

  That, and her gender and her looks.

  Did CIA have files on Russian officers in which their preferences in women were duly recorded for just such opportunities? If so, he had to believe no one had informed Julie of her backup role as honey in the plan B trap.

  At this point he didn’t give a damn that he seemed to be going right along with that plan.

  When she was done with her tale and fell silent, he blew out a long breath. Despite the buzz of unease over the potential implications and possible danger of the situation, a profound sense of relief sifted through him. Her mission could have been much worse. At least CIA wasn’t targeting him or any of his men. And Comrade Cherenkov could stop worrying about Russian state secrets being compromised. This was all about China. Good to know.

  “You should have come to me right away with this,” he told her. “I could have helped you search for this card instead of threatening you every five minutes.”

  She sent him a withering look. “Right. Because you definitely would have believed I was on a Russian submarine looking for Chinese weapons technology.”

  “I would have.” He smiled crookedly. “Eventually.”

  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest when, with a sigh, he took her in his arms again, this time front to front, her soft breasts pillowing against his chest.

  He was getting used to her being close like this. It felt right, like she belonged there, cradled protectively against his body. Especially now that he knew she didn’t make her living from intrigue and deception. It made a difference. The knowledge lifted a weight from his heart that he hadn’t realized had been burdening it. And he was gratified she trusted him enough to confide in him.

  He vowed she wouldn’t suffer because of telling him the truth. Not if he could help it.

  Over her shoulder he noticed the rear lookout glancing forward toward them. He was too far away to see the man’s expression, but he could just imagine. He knew his behavior with Julie was way out of line—even for a captain whose formerly distinguished career was now toast. The crew would speculate rampantly at his motives for his flagrant disregard for navy decorum, wonderin
g if he was angling for a ticket to America or just thumbing his nose at his superiors. Consorting with their traditional enemy, regardless of the end of the Cold War, would hardly endear him to the Admiralty.

  Except his FSB orders were to do exactly that. The Naval Command must be aware of his assignment. The envelope he’d received from Cherenkov had contained orders placing him under FSB command. Surely, the navy hadn’t ordered him blind. . . . Did they know there was a CIA operative among the contingent of foreign scientists aboard Ostrov? And what about the saboteur? Could that saboteur have been sent by his own navy superiors to neutralize Julie because they hadn’t been informed of Nikolai’s specific mission?

  Would his promise to her backfire and take them both down as traitors by both countries?

  Possible scenarios did crazy Ivans through his mind.

  Finally he shoved them aside with a growl of impatience. He would not second-guess himself. He knew he was doing the right thing joining forces with Julie, and that was all that mattered.

  “Okay,” he said to her, “we need to find that SD card. Give me a list of where you’ve already searched. Day after tomorrow while the scientists are on Attu Island, I’ll check some of the more inaccessible places you haven’t gotten to yet.”

  “Good. I’ll stay on board and help,” she said, looking up at him.

  He shook his head. “Nyet. It will be too dangerous. I’m planning to take the boat through a deep-water test while we wait.” He gave her a sinister smile. “Perhaps if the Chinese 093 is still around, I can teach that tenacious commander a lesson in good manners.”

  She grasped his arms. “Nikolai, no! Are you nuts? The Shang class is a nuclear submarine carrying every piece of stealth technology available! That’s hardly a fair fight.”

  “Which is why he won’t be expecting a challenge from us.”

  She pressed her body into his. “Please don’t do it,” she pleaded softly. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you or the crew because of me.”

  He kissed her hair. “Don’t worry, milaya moya. This isn’t on you. It’s what I do. This kind of opportunity is golden. It’s what a submariner lives for.”

  “But Ostrov’s condition—”

  “I won’t take any unnecessary chances,” he promised.

  Her arms came tighter around him. “You better not.”

  “Besides,” he reasoned, “their captain will probably get bored and be gone by then.”

  “Let’s hope so.” She laid her head on his shoulder and leaned against him. He could feel her muscles relax a little. Or maybe it was just exhaustion.

  “You should get some rest,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

  There was a pause before she murmured, “What about you? You need sleep, too.”

  He smiled into her hair, breathing deeply of its scent. A scent his senses had begun to crave. “Don’t you know a submarine commander never sleeps?”

  There was an even longer pause. “Maybe I wasn’t really thinking of sleep.”

  He put his lips to her forehead, more tempted than he could say to take her back to his stateroom right now and show her how not tired he was. “I knew you were out to seduce me. It won’t work, you know.”

  She tipped her face up. “No?”

  “Nyet.”

  “Sure?” She brushed her lips over his.

  He groaned softly. “Okay, maybe.”

  Her lips curved in a smile more like the Mona Lisa than Mata Hari. “Good.” The smile widened. “Then meet me in our stateroom in half an hour.”

  Julie gave Nikolai a little wave as he left her at the bottom of the ladder to get back to his duties. He strode off. She hadn’t told him what she planned to do, but it was more important than ever to get hold of her boss and let him know what was happening. With the Chinese sub chasing them . . . and with Nikolai.

  She should confess to having confided in him what she was searching for. But what about their personal involvement together? Should she tell her boss about that, too? She was in an agony of indecision.

  Before she could do either, she had to find a working sat phone. Who else on the sub might be in possession of one?

  She thought immediately of Rufus Edwards. And grimaced. She’d just as soon skip getting a grilling from the avuncular chief, which she was pretty sure would happen if she went back to the sonar shack. It was obvious he didn’t approve of her relationship with Nikolai.

  So, who else?

  Trent Griff? Or maybe the young Canadian researcher, Josh Stedman? She remembered seeing Dr. Josh hanging with the XO and a few of the other Russian crew during the rebreather drill. Maybe he was still up and about.

  After a short search she found him back in the engineering compartment, practicing his broken Russian language skills on the amused crew members.

  “Hey, Julie, come learn some new words with me,” he said with a grin, waving.

  She laughed. “I don’t think I dare,” she said dryly and motioned him over.

  He excused himself and they walked a few paces down the passageway. “What’s up?”

  She asked him if he had a sat phone and was relieved when he said he did.

  “Thank goodness. Mine—” She suddenly thought better of telling him about the sabotage. “Mine died, and I need to call in my article for tomorrow or my editor will kill me. Can I borrow yours for a few minutes?”

  “Sure. I forgot to charge it last night, but I think there’s still some juice in the battery. It’s with my stuff.”

  He took her down to general berthing, where he had his rack, and pulled it out of his backpack and handed it to her.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” she said gratefully. “I’ll bring it back in a jiff.”

  She wasn’t forgetting she had an important appointment in less than half an hour.

  By now they barely blinked in the central post when she was back after just ten minutes and indicated she wanted to go up on the sail. The same man as before fished the harness from a cupboard behind the ladder and handed it to her with a wide smile. She blushed when she realized the entire watch was peering at her with expressions ranging from amusement to admiration to vague disapproval. She zipped up the ladder to get away from them, pausing at the landing halfway up to fasten her harness. Her ears burned and she was glad for the icy breeze that whistled down from the sail.

  She was not ashamed of her relationship with the captain, but she didn’t like being the object of gossip, positive or negative. She’d always hated that. She’d had enough of idle speculation about her after her father died. Her family had meant well, but she’d just wanted to be left alone.

  Shaking off the discomfort, she steeled herself to face the sail alone. She noticed the lookout was still down in the flying bridge in the conning tower, so she’d be on her own in the cockpit. She took a steadying breath and went up to make her phone call.

  After clipping her harness to the toe-rail, she crouched down and knelt close to the deck. Partly to avoid the Arctic wind, but also so she didn’t have to look at the sea. Funny how it could be so lovely while tucked safely in Nikolai’s arms, and so menacing when facing it alone.

  She planned to make her call short and sweet because of the low battery, but it took longer to get through to her boss because she was calling from an unknown phone.

  “What happened to yours?” James Thurman asked when he finally came on the line.

  “Sabotaged,” she said, and she told him about the gutted wires.

  “Romanov?”

  “No. It wasn’t him.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “He was as upset about it as I was.”

  Thurman digested that. “So there’s someone else on board who doesn’t want you calling in?”

  “Worse,” she said, and she related the incidents with the atmospheric equipment and her IDA as well.

  Thurman cursed softly. “I don’t like it.”

  “You think I do?”

  “Any idea who?” he as
ked.

  “I’m working on it.” She was about to tell him about the Chinese sub following them, but Thurman wasn’t done with the topic of Nikolai.

  “Look, I’m sensing you don’t want to think it’s Captain Romanov,” he said, “but be careful around him. He could be using you to get his career back. Romanov was one of the youngest Russian naval officers to achieve his rank, with several commands before his current less than desirable one. He had a brilliant career up until last year. From what I’ve read he’d do anything to get it back.”

  Which was exactly what Nikolai had said himself. “I’m telling you he’s okay with me. We bonded over family.” Among other things.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Thurman asked sharply.

  She scrambled. “His mother died when he was a kid, just like my dad.” Well, not exactly, but still. . . .

  There was a brief silence. “He told you about his mother? What did he say?”

  She wasn’t about to go into the wolf story. It was none of Thurman’s business. “Nothing much. Just that his father treated her badly and that she died young. He misses her. The way I miss my dad.”

  “That’s all?” Thurman asked. She thought she heard papers rustling, but it could have been static on the line. It was hard to tell in the echoing connection and the several-second delay in their conversation as each side was being transmitted across the satellite.

  “Yeah,” she said, then gathered her courage. “Look, I’m not having a lot of luck finding this SD card on my own. Have you ever seen the inside of a submarine? Would you freak out if I asked him to cooperate with us?”

  There was a long pause. Carefully Thurman said, “Romanov’s father is an old-school local politician with a very nasty reputation. What makes you think the son is any better? Why would he cooperate with an American?”