The Nemesis Manifesto, by Eric Van Lustbader.

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The Nemesis Manifesto (Evan Ryder Book 1) 

by Eric Van Lustbader  (Author)  

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Well written for most part, with several curious points that a reader may notice. 

First and foremost is a combination of even-handed treatment of female characters, which doesn't ignore their physical beauty, but treats them as more than capable of superior qualities and achievements, playing roles in tandem with their male colleagues or solo, thus completely devoid of the all-too-pervasive misogyny of abrahmic cultures and of US more than most of West, except perhaps nazis. Or jihadists. 

The name of the author does sound male, and the author does describe the attires of various females in detail that readers have come to not expect of run-of-the-mill male authors, which deepens the mystery, because his descriptions of US locals are quite authentic, complete with atmosphere thereof - so is Eric Van Lustbader a female, a Russian German migrated to US instead of Germany, .... ???

His - presuming Eric is a "he" - attitude towards Russia is very right-wing US stance that actually fits, not Russia so much, as so-called US allies - or erstwhile allies - jihadists and China far more. Which again makes one guess, but not confidently enough to bet one's life, that if author is an emigrant to US it was a journey at a tender age. 

And then there's that lack of antisemitism too. 

All in all, the mystery itself is worth reading even apart from the extra puzzling factors one notices as one goes along, but again, the description fits -for example - the horrendously fraudulent attacks perpetrated, by a cabal of Abrahmic-II, Abrahmic-III and Abrahmic-IV, against India and her ancient living culture, as internet era has proceeded to empower every evil attacker just as much as any poor student or old couple with a device. 

It isn't Nemesis, this attack against India by a cabal, but has only changed its outer form. Once, several centuries ago, when it began, it was of physical brutalitites perpetrated against scholars, universities and temples, with international destruction of knowledge being motive - until British arrived and set in place Macaulay policy of wiping out everything good about India and lying with fraudulent propaganda against it meanwhile, which was continuation of fraudulent propaganda by prior colonial regimes. Current form is covert in its origin and that may be the only difference from the well over a millennium and a half of attacks that India has suffered. 

All the more interesting then, to see how far Nemesis fits the scenario in real world. 

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From political intrigues in D.C. to those in Moscow, from Berchtesgaden to ancient Celtics mythology, author paints a canvas with wide spectrum of colors, mostly with horror or reassuring small victories for the good side, building to a crescendo that's as much about horror as a definite tinge of disgusting, but no terror. Frederick Forsyth it's not, but there's a good deal of lyrical descriptions. 

At some point, what with repeated motif and mention of ravens, one can't help but be reminded forcefully of The Birds, especially of Alfred Hitchcock's film version which differed from the original story by Daphne du Maurier - unlike the author, who'd mentioned varieties of birds involved but named few, Hitchcock used crows, almost exclusively. 

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Here author propagates a falsehood rooted in racist colonialism, by borrowing concepts, words, images from other cultures, twisting them out of shape and context, and pretending that they have connections with - or that they belong to - Germany. 

"“Actually, I’m doing you a favor,” Evan said. And when Arkady laughed, a bark not unlike the animal’s bark, Evan went on: “You must follow the Uthark runic order, Arkady.” When Arkady made no comment, Evan said, “It was posited in the 1930s—a theory Hitler picked up on and subscribed to—that the Uthark runic order, a modern interpretation of the ancient Futhark alphabet—creates cyphers, but I’m betting you knew that already.” 

"“What has this to do with—?” 

"“Everything, Arkady. The Dark Mother, the bringer of necessary but painful change. She’s known in India as Kali, Malka-ha-Shadim in proto-Jewish culture, and Maha-Kali in Indo-Germanic tradition. ... "

Whether Kaalie (usually spelt Kali), or Mahaakalie (usually spelt Mahakali or Maha Kali), the Deities are of India and have nothing whatsoever to do with Germany, and never did. 

There's no "Indo-Germanic tradition" and never was. 

Germany was fascinated with India after England was, and before the racist policy by Macaulay, of destroying India by false propaganda, was put in place. 

Nazis borrowed some words, concepts and symbols - including occult powerful symbols of Swastika - from India, and her ancient language, Sanskrit, but gave them false meanings that had never existed in India. 

This misuse destroyed their regime. 

" ... The cypher in the Uthark runic order, however, reveals that her name is Mórrigan, later corrupted to Morgan. Brenna, the Raven, taught Morgan le Fay all she knew of magic.” She nodded her head toward Brenda. “You also might remember the story of Merlin hanging Brenna le Fay upside down for defying him. An hour after that, King Arthur Pendragon, the man Merlin was sworn to protect, was killed.”"

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Is author aware that Amiran literally means rich female? That'd never be name of a male, except when a western author seeks to take liberties with cultures he's no comprehension of. 

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"Popping the cork, he poured the sparkling wine into a flute, took it and the bottle over to the window, stood sipping as he looked out onto Lubyanka Square, where the wide-shouldered buildings blocked out the fragile light of the coming day. Few people braved the elements at this early hour—just a few hardy souls, bundled into anonymity, hurrying diagonally across the square, coming to relieve members of the SVR night shift."

Next description is identifies author as either US born and bred, or one desperate to cater to US readership. 

" ... he was served fresh coffee and a plate filled with a pyramid of Entenmann’s chocolate-glazed doughnuts, flown in daily for him. ... "

For someone with power to fo that, it's abominable low taste - after all he could far more easily have fresh croissants from Paris and chocolate truffles from Germany! 

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Author does indulge in lyrical descriptions. 

"Butler nodded toward Brenda’s food. “Now finish your food.” 

"Brenda’s smile blossomed like a lotus in moonlight. “Every last bite.”"

Perhaps less realistic, since lotuses bloom in soft sun of early morning rather than moonlight - but one gets the enchantment of the image! 

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"Evan said nothing. Peter Limas had never lied to her; it was Lyudmila who had lied to Peter, turning the real events on their head, saying she had infiltrated this place, rescued Evan. In fact, it was the other way around: Evan had rescued Lyudmila. She was hit so hard with this revelation that she stumbled, and Arkady laughed, believing that her strength was waning. For a moment, Evan lost track of where she was—or, more accurately, when she was. In a flash she was beside Lyudmila again, as Lyudmila led her through the tunnels. And with this image—so strong Evan could smell their sweat, hear the drip of water through the mineral—the entire episode came flooding back to her, and she remembered everything. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage, she heard the blood roaring through her ears. For an instant the world turned upside down. Then, just as abruptly, it was returned to her, like an offering or a gift. 

"“And yet you knew about this secret,” Arkady was saying, “about the way into the salt mines. How? How did you know?”

"Of course she now knew: it was Lyudmila who had guided her, Lyudmila her Virgil, holding her metaphorical lamp high through the darkness. Lyudmila who had meticulously done her research, who had told her that the Nazis, über-practical, not to say paranoid, had built escape tunnels into all their houses on this mountain, using the salt mines, so that if they were attacked by Allied bombing raids, they could hide there, safe within the mountain, and, if the worst came to the worst, they could disperse through those tunnels, escaping the invading enemy."

But allies were not likely to invade Bavaria and leave Austria alone, were they? 

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"Now, on this icy winter’s eve he was sitting in his den, outstretched legs crossed at the ankles, sipping an iced vodka, watching his cache of Leni Riefenstahl films. Somewhere in the secret heart of the apartment, where neither his wife nor his cleaning lady would ever find it, was a lockbox chock-full of Nazi paraphernalia. Long ago, at school in St. Petersburg, he had come to the conclusion that there was very little difference between fascism and communism, being two paths to the same goal: to keep the masses under control. ... "

That defines the author. 

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"“You’re handled by the SVR,” Roger said, somewhat defensively. “I get my orders from GRU.” 

"Isobel watched him, doing her best to keep calm. How had it taken Evan Ryder to crack this rotten egg open? No matter. Why feel jealous when, because of Ryder, she was finally getting somewhere with Hollis? “So Nemesis is a Russian initiative?” 

"Hollis shrugged. “I don’t know who’s behind it, but it’s been clear to me for a while that it’s needed.”"

"“That pin . . .” 

"“The double ravens, yes.” Hollis shook out another cigarette and, without offering her one, lit up. “They’re a symbol—a symbol of a new era, the start of a cleansing.”"

Is this deliberate fraud, imposing nazi and KKK creeds on Russia? 

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"As soon as General Boyko reached his office, Timmy arrived with the latest batch of items from Nemesis. He went through them while he was still shrugging off his greatcoat. “Why is the American government harboring a Zionist terrorist in its secret services?” the first one read. It went on to accuse Benjamin Butler of the most despicable crimes, the latest in what was now a barrage of “newly unearthed facts” incriminating him. Boyko turned to the next several communiqués. It was immediately apparent that Nemesis was also stepping up its campaign to trash any American not of the Caucasian persuasion. Two items accused the black American professional athletes of being un-American. ... A third item was in defense of the president for tweeting that the American flag burning by the neo-Nazis, now called the alt-right, an amusing euphemism that Boyko had dreamed up himself, was an acceptably peaceful manner of protest. ... "

No different from what barrages India has suffered generally from left, congress and urban naxals, and from the opposition since 2014. 

" ... It was immensely amusing to him that Nemesis was his number one client."

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"Popping the cork, he poured the sparkling wine into a flute, took it and the bottle over to the window, stood sipping as he looked out onto Lubyanka Square, where the wide-shouldered buildings blocked out the fragile light of the coming day. Few people braved the elements at this early hour—just a few hardy souls, bundled into anonymity, hurrying diagonally across the square, coming to relieve members of the SVR night shift."

Next description is identifies author as either US born and bred, or one desperate to cater to US readership. 

" ... he was served fresh coffee and a plate filled with a pyramid of Entenmann’s chocolate-glazed doughnuts, flown in daily for him. ... "

For someone with power to fo that, it's abominable low taste - after all he could far more easily have fresh croissants from Paris and chocolate truffles from Germany! 

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" ... Adjacent was the cinema, which screened the latest Hollywood films three nights a week. Attendance was mandatory; outwardly, no one complained, but privately Sammy felt only contempt for Hollywood’s blatant pandering to the Chinese market."

Since when does Hollywood cater, much less pander, to anything but US, much less China - or Chinese? 

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" ... “As of today I’m retiring both APT 28 and Fancy Bear.” It never occurred to him that the idea was Gorgonov’s; in his mind, it was entirely his."

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" ... “As of now, we’re starting a new phase of our cyber-warfare against the United States. We began our initiative to obscure the truth, to present a confusing array of alternate truths that would appeal to fringe groups. People believe what suits their prejudices best. We have achieved that goal. But that was only phase one. I want everything purged as if it had never existed. Give me an update on the new generation of bots.”

" ... “They’re to be programmed to create several million new IP addresses from which we will rotate our outgoing dezinfortmatsiya.”"

"“And then we’re going to use the new netbot—let’s call it Soul Searcher—to target Benjamin Butler,” General Boyko said. “Never heard of him, right? Neither has ninety-nine percent of the GRU and the FSB. Nevertheless, he runs the blackest of black shops for the American DOD—very smart, very skilled. Being Jewish, he’s also vulnerable. Keeping in mind the motto of the sheep we’re targeting, ‘Stupidity Is Power,’ we’ll tar Butler with fascist and socialist tags because our targets don’t know the difference. We’ll dox him as a man of loose morals, a security risk, a closet homosexual, and everything else in our malicious intent arsenal.” Doxing was an internet-based term, a method of broadcasting toxic private and/or fake information about a person through social engineering. 

"“And why are we targeting this Benjamin Butler? So he’s a Jew, but is he a Zionist?” 

"“Not as far as I know, but perhaps we’ll make him one of those scum as well!” Boyko said jovially. “We’ll create a false narrative, turn it into a conspiracy theory; our targets love nothing better than a conspiracy theory—they cleave to those like remoras to a shark.” Boyko sat back, hands locked behind his head. He was going directly against Gorgonov’s wishes, which was also the point. “However, Sammy, the real reason we’re targeting him is that he’s a good friend of Evan Ryder.” Gorgonov’s plan was pitiable. Boyko wanted Evan Ryder dead. Period. Dead stop. “He’s the bait we’re going to use to catch Ryder and kill her.”"

Isn't that precisely everything employed by anti-India brigade, increasingly post genocide of nonmuslims and their enforced exodus from Kashmir caused via terrorists infiltration from across the border and LOC, a decade before the new millennium? 

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Chapter 1

" ... As she made her way through the morning throngs on their way to jobs at various self-important bureaus, she was reminded all over again that DC was like Narcissus staring into a mirror, admiring his reflection instead of taking care of the difficult business of governing."

" ... Now Butler was a director, and Evan’s boss. A dyed-in-the-wool field agent, she was fine with that. Butler was one of the only two people alive whom Evan trusted; the handful of others were all dead."

" ... he should have been feared by everyone in the CI community. The reason he wasn’t was simple: unlike any other of his colleagues, Butler trained and deployed a good number of female field agents, whereas other clandestine agencies deployed none. He was alone in understanding, as his Russian counterparts did, that females could extract intel more often than male agents, and more of it to boot. Females were considered circumspect, and could play off men’s weakness for sex, love, and affection, which, most often, considering their profession, they failed to get from their wives—if they had wives, or ex-wives."

Others didn't do so, why? Misogyny of abrahmics thats rampantly prevalent in US, presumably? 

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"Butler, having moved from his original, inadequate quarters near the NSA, was now installed on the eighth floor of a massive white-brick residential building whose façade was slightly curved to accommodate a semi-circular drive with a porte cochere, which allowed its tenants to delude themselves into believing they were living in a Southern mansion.

" ... she showed credentials identifying her as Louise Steadman, Consultant. What she consulted on wasn’t enumerated and wasn’t queried. She asked for Paul Roswell ... "

"“Paul Roswell” had had the entire eighth floor remade into a vast complex of rooms. ... "

" ... She glanced at the window glass: bulletproof, spidery with anti-eavesdropping networks. Even though this location was well-hidden, Evan saw that he was taking no chances. She approved; but then she pretty much approved of everything Butler did."

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" ... “Like the new digs. Do we have an actual name yet?” 

"“Just the alphanumeric one, M171473-HG,” he said. 

"“So still MI7.” A joke of sorts. A play on the British MI6."

"Butler held the sheet faceup so she could see it. 

"“You see? No official stamps. No circulation sign-offs. This is strictly ours. One hundred percent.” His forefinger ran down the list. “Six names, four agents who disappeared over the last ten months, one who came back in very bad shape, and the sixth is completely unknown to us.” 

"“Where did you get these names?” 

"“The agent who returned had the original list on him. It’s been scrutinized by forensics. They found nothing, not even a partial fingerprint.”

"“Not even our agent’s?” 

"“That’s right.” 

"“So he didn’t compile it. He never even saw it.” 

"Butler nodded. “It’s a message, a taunt. Just like the agent’s return. That’s my belief, anyway.” He produced photos—grainy headshots from what appeared to be surveillance operations—to go with the names. “Three are ours, two MI6.”"

" ... so far as I can make out, the MI6 agents were looking for the same thing ours were—a person, or organization, known only as Nemesis.” 

"“What has Nemesis done to deserve all this scrutiny?” 

"“It controls an enormous network of Twitter bots that spew out the most egregious racial and gender epithets aimed at Democrats, women, Hispanics, immigrants, Muslims, and Jews.” 

"“Surely you have IT people who can—” 

"“The Nemesis net is like the Hydra. Cut off a cluster of ISPs and seven others take their place. I mean, we don’t even know whether Nemesis is a single person, a cadre, or a worldwide cabal. But because of our recent failures I determined that we’ve been going after Nemesis from the wrong direction. Hence the deployments of field agents.”"

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" ... “Where?” she said softly. “Where were they found?” 

"“You’ll love this. It’s why I sent for you.” He took back the photos. “The Caucasus Mountains, the ancient dividing line between Europe and Asia. Georgia. To be exact, inside a national park with the longest name in the world: Racha-Lechkhumi-Kvemo Svaneti Planned National Park.” He gave Evan a hard stare. “The Russian Federation is virtually your backyard.”"

" ... “The two names below our people are the MI6 agents.” 

"Dropping her eyes, Evan looked at the list. “Have they been found?” 

"“Not as of today. No word from them. Nothing.” 

"“And the sixth name?” She stared past the page to Butler’s expression. “Charles Isaacs?” 

"“As I said, there’s no info on him. None at all. He’s a blank slate, a tabula rasa.” His gaze turned searching. “Charles Isaacs is a legend. A manufactured identity. Must be. He’s a complete enigma.” He put the list aside. “One thing I have been able to determine absolutely is he’s not one of ours. And I’ve checked with our cousins across the pond. As I said, we’re not so friendly these days, but I have a few personal friends, and we still trust one another. He’s not one of theirs, either. And, of course, they’re intensely interested as to what happened to their two MIA agents.” 

"“Isaacs belongs to an agency that Nemesis is out to eliminate,” Evan said. “Which could mean Isaacs is an ally of ours.” 

"“Possibly, but he could also be Russian, Interpol, or anything else, for that matter.” Butler was looking more and more troubled. “As yet, we don’t know Nemesis’s goal, which is why we need to be extremely vigilant.”"

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Chapter 2 

" ... In contrast with the institutional exterior, the repurposed interior had the feel of a five-star hotel. 

"The Toad was waiting for them in the library and from the get-go the optics were wrong. ... "

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"Patrick Wilson watched them approach with glittering eyes. It was only when Evan and her companion neared the Toad that the illusion of normality was shattered. Wilson’s eyes, once the same rich hue as his trousers, were now almost colorless. They reflected the light, making them appear depthless. And then there was his complexion, which was as pale and bloodless as moonlight, and almost as insubstantial."

"He hadn’t said a word to Brenda, hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t so much as acknowledged that she was even in the room with them."

"“I prefer your real name,” Evan said. 

"With that, the Toad’s demeanor brightened, he bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. This was a mistake; they looked like bits of burnt toast. They reminded Evan of photos she’d seen of prisoners released from Dachau after World War II."

" ... They looked loose, ready to fall out, as if he were ninety-five years old."

" ... the image of a red-brick monstrosity rose up in her mind, clear as if she had been there yesterday. She could almost hear the ravens shriek. Then her eyes refocused, and she saw Wilson peering at her with a curious, almost avid expression."

"“The last place you were—the last place you can remember—was it in the country, a city, what?” 

"“And ravens,” the Toad said. “Don’t forget those fucking ravens.” A muscle in one cheek began to spasm. “Where’s that place, Evan? I don’t remember.”"

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Chapter 3 

"“Ah, Mr. Secretary, I hoped I’d find you here,” Riley Rivers said. 

"“You’re in big trouble, meeting me like this,” Brady Thompson said, waving away one of the security suits. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

"Thompson was Secretary of Defense. Unlike with other presidents, this POTUS used Thompson, rather than the CI heads, as his sole advisor on intelligence matters. He alone had a direct pipeline to the president. He listened to others, skimmed their daily reports, but acted only on Thompson’s say-so. 

"“I’m the newest member of our snug little cadre here in America. I have a control back in Moscow same as you.”"

"“Talking directly to me is way above your pay grade.” His lips barely moved, and he hadn’t so much as glanced at Rivers since the other had sat down beside him. “Go,” he said. “Now.”"

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"“Maybe you don’t have the stomach to protect POTUS from these outlandish lies.” Thompson’s voice was like the point of a knife. 

"Derry froze. “What the hell does that mean?” 

"“It means that if you’re going to be POTUS’s champion you’ve got to find another way.”"

"“You’ll create a separate office of . . . ​well, you know . . .” he leaned forward, said in a whisper, “counter-propaganda.” 

"Derry thought for a moment. “Are you involved?” 

"“Not at all,” Thompson said. “We never had this conversation.” He cocked his head. “How’s your wife, by the way?”"

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Chapter 4 

"Brenda looked from the Toad to Evan. “What ravens?” 

"“What ravens, she says?” Pat Wilson’s smile was as crooked as his teeth. It was the first time he’d acknowledged Brenda’s existence. He still hadn’t looked at her though. He blinked; it was as if she were nothing more than a speck, an irritant caught in the corner of his eye. Then, all at once, he lunged toward her. As she recoiled, Evan left her seat, caught Wilson’s clawed hands before he could reach her. 

"As Evan gently but firmly pressed him back into his chair, Wilson said in a venomous voice: “The ravens that picked me apart. That’s what ravens.”"

"“What do the ravens mean to you?” Evan said, trying to shift the conversation away from herself. Brenda looked lost, but she couldn’t help that. 

"“Death,” Wilson said. “And another life.”"

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"“I am better. Better than.” The Toad, staring fixedly at Evan, spoke without conviction. “And, no, I’m quite content here.” 

"“Why?” Evan said. “How can you be content here?”"

"“They pecked at my brain,” Wilson said, his voice suddenly silky, drifting as if on a tide of his own imagination. “As they will at yours.”"

" ... With what appeared a supreme effort his eyes focused on Evan in a moment—possibly the last moment—of lucidity. “You’ll fail, Evan. This time you’ll fail. And if you don’t stop, your brain will get eaten too.” A gout of blood erupted from his mouth.

"Then hands were peeling Evan away as a coven of doctors, nurses, and strong-armed orderlies transferred Pat Wilson to a gurney, strapped him down, and as quickly as possible rushed him out of the library."

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"When the white Nissan Altima disintegrated, it did so in a hundredth of a second. Leaving her question blown away in the shock wave. The explosion was so powerful it shattered all the glass on the front of the former St. Agnes’s façade. As for the Tahoe, the blast crumpled the entire driver’s side as it lifted the SUV off its tires, flipped it over, and slammed it down onto the top of the green Jaguar parked in the space on the passenger’s side."

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Chapter 5 

"Riley Rivers should have been in seventh heaven. Ever since starting his blog when he was nineteen he had dreamed of speaking to America from a national platform. But even his feverish imagination fell short of being put in charge of anything called the Office of Official Communications. What made it all the more delicious was that the propaganda emanated from various branches of the Russian secret service. His job now was to manipulate the material from those sources into salaciously tasty bits and disseminate it in the fastest way possible to the widest audience possible."

"What a world, Rivers mused now, as he stood in his new offices—a large corner suite on the third floor of a modern office building with a smart granite entrance on K Street, NW, near Nineteenth, five blocks from the White House and, coincidentally, about the same distance from MI7’s new offices. 

"Hourly, “news” items flooded in at an even faster rate than they had before. Tweets targeting Black Lives Matter, Muslims, Jews. Items supporting what the Russians had cleverly code-named the alt-right. And today something new: the first of a number of items he would receive specifically targeting Benjamin Butler—some of the nastiest innuendoes he could recall seeing."

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" ... Benjamin Butler is a Jew, yes!, his mother was a Jew!, and he is biased toward Jews even—especially—when it isn’t warranted. There was more—much more—some of it disgusted even Rivers. 

"This little piece of red bait, accompanied by a photo, as many of his items were, would be disseminated as only Rivers could, as an internet item. The photo was of Butler and a whole bunch of women and men, clearly prostitutes and escorts. It had been cooked up by a program known as GAN, generative adversarial network, that created what was coming to be known as “deep fakes,” a combination of “deep learning” and “fake news.” The process took advantage of a Google open-source program called TensorFlow, an astonishing machine learning software, to insert the head of anyone you wanted into a compromising photo or short video. The original shots, of Butler and the random unsavory folk he was apparently with, had of course been taken at different times in different places, but GAN had deftly made it seem that they were together.

"Not that Rivers knew much about either GAN or TensorFlow, but through Reddit he had winkled out a kid who did, a genius and a nasty piece of work who lived for making trouble. When he found him, the kid was using GAN to make fun of POTUS. ... He still didn’t know how the kid did it. Then again, he really didn’t care. ... Money talks, Rivers thought. Nobody walks.

"Using both his new network and his old Reddit network, Rivers served up the item on Butler to a select cadre of ultra-left wing and white supremacist sites, and the dezinformatsiya was seen by millions around the world within a matter of hours. 

"Rivers made copies of the whole thing."

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"He looked down at the street from his office window, at the pedestrians striding by, completely oblivious to how the world really worked. These denizens of the capital of the United States thought they knew, were convinced that they were a part of the machine. So self-deluded, Rivers thought with utter contempt. 

"Rivers’s contempt for America and his love affair with Russia began more or less simultaneously. He’d spent his senior year abroad in London, where he fell in with a drinking crowd down from Oxford. At first, these young gentlemen treated him like a mascot. If he hadn’t been American he doubted whether they would have tolerated him at all; the class system in England was still as firmly in place as it ever had been. Rivers—a born snob—found this as fascinating as it was attractive. His acid wit, which had alienated Americans left and right, combined with his encyclopedic knowledge of the American political system so ingratiated him with the rakish English gentlemen that before long he was raised into the lofty heights of being “one of them.” For once, he belonged somewhere.

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"It was at an all-night drunkathon that conversation turned to the subjects of Socialism, disdain for the English upper crust, and experimental dabbling in the Russian way of life. This should have repulsed Rivers, but in fact it had the opposite effect. The disgust these gentlemen had for men’s clubs, inherited stone manors in Sussex or Cheshire, regimental ties, and the strait-laced hale-fellow-well-met conventions of their parents chimed perfectly with the antipathy Rivers felt for those back home who had scorned him for his extreme politics, turned their backs on his abrasive nature, belittled him as a misfit behind his back. He wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t tall, he wasn’t slim—that’s all anyone back home cared about. Whereas these gentlemen were interested in the mind: opinions, debates, thoughtful analyses. Rivers’s meat and potatoes, so to speak.

"A week or two after the drunkathon, one of the gentlemen introduced him to Yuri. At least, that’s what he said his name was. The door had opened into a new world—a world in which Rivers could see his future, his importance. Yuri praised his work on Reddit, assured him that the role he was offering would “make even more of a difference,” would give real meaning to Rivers’s life. 

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"And so it had come to pass, slowly but surely. The Russians were fond of playing the long game. As Yuri had told him on his departure from London, “My good and loyal friend, years will pass and it will seem to you that nothing is happening, but I can assure you that behind the scenes wheels are constantly in motion, and you are a major part of that.” He put a hand on Rivers’s shoulder. “Patience is everything, my good and loyal friend. Patience and initiative.”"

Very reminiscent of the teleseries The Americans. 

" ... Yuri loved Rivers’s Reddit political site, impressed with how many members it had amassed. He communed with his superiors and they suggested one or two tweaks that impressed Rivers and which, when he returned to DC and graduated, he implemented. And so, slowly but surely, as Yuri had promised, his star began to rise above the jabbering mass of the blogosphere. Whether it was because his point of view began to resonate with a changing zeitgeist or because his posts were being favorited and repeated by the online army directed by his Russian friends was impossible to say. Most likely, he figured, it was a combination of both."

" ... Yuri. His good and loyal friend. Now gone and, his missions completed, forgotten. Except by Rivers himself, who remembered him with a fondness he had never felt for anyone else."

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"“As I said, Yana Bardina was a precious object to some powerful men and this made her invisible,” Isobel continued, “but that was deliberate, her invisibility made her perfect.” 

"Suddenly, Rivers was listening more carefully. Somewhere in the back of his mind a warning bell had gone off. “Perfect for what?” 

"“For passing secrets, Riley. Government secrets to the Russians.” 

"“Are you telling me that Yana Bardina was a Russian spy?” 

"“That’s right,” Isobel said, her smile broadening. “Just like you, Riley.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 6 

"While she waited in Chicago for Bobbi to finish college, Evan searched for a gym that suited her desire and needs. Here her tomboyish childhood served her in good stead. She was introduced to boxing, then Eastern martial arts. She learned how to shoot a variety of handguns, how to throw knives, both of which she loved. But what she found she loved the most was busting skulls—not literally, of course. In the ring, on the mat, in the dojo, winning was everything. She took her anger and despair at her parents’ deaths out on every opponent—mostly male, though the few women she went up against were hardly spared. In her quieter hours she read anything and everything: books on history, religion, politics, philosophy, shamanism. She taught herself seven languages, aided in no small part by her eidetic memory. Also, though she could scarcely have known at the time, she was on the lighter side of the dyslexic spectrum; her mind worked at about ten times the normal human speed. Clearly, these gifts were, in large part, why she never got lost in the vast system of caves under the Black Hills. 

"She had always had a hankering for trouble. It drew her like a magnet, and when the sisters moved to the DC area, while Bobbi was falling in love with a lobbyist and considering how many kids she wanted with him, Evan was finding her way into the clandestine services as an administrative assistant. Had she been a man she would have raced through the hierarchy like an eel through water; she was an astonishingly quick learner; again, her eidetic memory was her best friend. 

"She chose “the hard road,” as Bobbi called it, stoically and patiently enduring ridicule, skepticism, sexism, and finally, resentment all the way up the slippery slope."

................................................................................................

"And so she persevered and, in the end, succeeded, as an intel collator, then a coordinator, where finally she found a superior who, after eighteen months of her slogging away, agreed with her assessment that she was wasted in these desk jobs. After five months—something of a record—at a training facility deep in the Virginia woods, she became a field agent. Then, and not a moment sooner, her various bosses, her instructors claimed they’d never seen her like, certainly never in a female. Each one claimed to have discovered her first. Each one claimed to have encouraged her from day one. Each one was a liar. 

"Nevertheless, and defying all odds, she became well-regarded inside the American intelligence community, then grudgingly in demand. ... "

................................................................................................

"It wasn’t until she was certain Brenda was safely out of the Tahoe that she unbuckled her own seat belt. Strong hands grabbed her as she came loose, maneuvered her out of the vehicle. It was only as they were loading her into a second ambulance that she saw the extent of the devastation. The blast had completely disintegrated the Nissan. And as for the Tahoe, it and the Jaguar had become one twisted abstract sculpture. From some angles it was difficult to determine that they had once been vehicles."

"He bent lower. “Lucky the Tahoe was armored.”"

................................................................................................

"She is being taken through the high, iron gates of what looks like a nineteenth-century insane asylum—a red-brick monstrosity, complete with turreted towers on both ends and a steeply pitched slate roof. Oversized copper gutters and leaders guard the glowering eaves as if the roof needs protection from the inhospitable elements, or perhaps from the two ravens that cling tenaciously to the roof tiles. The architectural style is nightmarish—both Gothic and Victorian, hinting at a number of add-ons over the years. Tiny windows look out over the front lawn with blind eyes, black and forbidding."

" ... Had they been in the same place—the building of red brick? It would seem so, but for the life of her Evan couldn’t remember. 

"This had never happened to her before—an insistent remnant of a memory floating into her consciousness like a bit of a ship sunk at sea. What had happened to her in that damn red-brick building? She thought of Lyudmila. She missed her. It was incredibly rare that she allowed herself to think such a thought, to feel that kind of emotion. But the fact was that in her present situation Lyudmila would have been the one person she could have turned to, the one person who might have helped her find out where the red-brick building was, what it was—and what was going on inside it.

"“I don’t remember,” Wilson had insisted. Remember. Was Evan’s vision of the place, the ravens, a shard of lost memory bobbing to the surface of her consciousness, triggered by Wilson’s ramblings? No answers. The whole incident was maddening. And yet somehow she knew that’s where Wilson had been. In a red-brick building, with ravens."

"“Each trauma is different, you know that. With each one the probability of losing a chunk of yourself rises.”"

"A veil seemed to pass across her vision, giving way to the ghostly image of the monstrous red-brick mansion, the ravens, and what the Toad had said to her at the end: “Whatever was done to me . . . ​You’ve seen them . . .” He meant the ravens. This was turning into a horror story, something totally alien to her. It chilled her to the marrow."

................................................................................................

"“And yet, according to Brenda, he said you saw the ravens.” 

"“He must have been hallucinating.” 

"“He asked you where this place was, where the ravens were, as though you knew it.” 

"“He was not lucid, Benjamin,” Evan said with a sense of foreboding. “Clearly.” 

"“Really,” Butler replied flatly."

................................................................................................

" ... So far as she was aware, only she, Brenda, and Butler knew where they were going, and why. That, by definition, made Butler a driver, though the idea of it seemed inconceivable. This was the essential danger of forming attachments in the clandestine world. Those attachments tended to blind you to reality. That Butler could want either her or Brenda—or both, for that matter—killed did not make sense. That didn’t, however, preclude it being the truth. And until she had some solid proof one way or another, her security-conscious mind prevented her from giving away anything at all. Just another troubling aspect to the situation in which she was now enmeshed."

................................................................................................

Chapter 7 

"Evan opened the file, scanned the first pages on the vetting of Peter Limas. British national, educated in Cambridge, worked for his father in the elder’s steelworks until forming Rubicon Solutions, his own cyber company with proprietary software known as Tether that could identify the flow of ill-gotten gains across international borders. Brought it to the States seven years ago. Unmarried, no children. A success all around. Played golf and tennis. Unattached to either political party. No improper affiliations. That’s all there was to the file. Bland as a slice of white bread. “There’s no such person as Karen Park,” Evan said, as if reading it out from the file. She didn’t know this, but it stood to reason. And she was right."

................................................................................................

Chapter 8 

"She passed the sketch of the woman driver around, but no one had seen anyone who looked like her. She took the elevator up to the first floor, eyeballing her fellow riders, and got out. While interrogating Beacum, it occurred to her that maybe the driver didn’t leave either by foot or by car. Maybe she was still somewhere in the facility, posing as a doctor, nurse, or member of the support staff. Stopping at the nurses’ central station, she showed the face around again. Still nothing. But she did discover that there was a volunteer program in place—more highly vetted than at area hospitals. Still, that would be the soft spot, the easiest place for an outsider to blend in while hiding out until the initial clamor died down."

"In the end, Evan found her in the sixth-floor surgeons’ lounge, adjacent to the OR area. She was dressed in pale-green scrubs, which was clever, cleverer than a volunteer’s outfit. She sat at her leisure on a sofa, legs stretched out, feet on the coffee table, watching a film on her mobile phone. No longer a blonde, she was now wearing a dark Brenda-cut wig that Evan, herself an expert at disguise, could not mistake for the real thing. That proved premeditation: she had meant to stay inside the facility until the coast was clear. A well-thought-out plan, coordinated, masterminded not by her, not by a guard, but by someone with a chess player’s mind. But it was her shoes that gave her completely away; they were expensive pumps, nothing a surgeon would wear to work, let alone in the OR."

................................................................................................

"When she saw Evan approach, she smiled, stood up without saying a word, and went with her willingly, even passively, head slightly bowed, as if in defeat. As Evan took her over the threshold to the corridor, she slammed an elbow into Evan’s throat, whirled, and delivered a vicious blow to her kidneys. Then she took off, galloping down the corridor like a crazed racehorse fleeing a stable fire. She was fleet and nimble, even in those pumps, as if she had practiced running in them."

................................................................................................

" ... How could you have a final accounting of your life when major parts of it had been ripped from you? When the people you loved most in the world were gone? So she kept running and fighting. Running and fighting."

"At length, she looked down, to take a full inventory of the physical toll to her body. And there, around the dead driver’s neck, shining silver, flecked with blood, was a necklace of delicately wrought interlocking rings at the center of which was attached a pair of silver corvids, facing each other, curved beaks melding one into the other. 

"Ravens."

................................................................................................

Chapter 9 

"He was sitting opposite her in a serpent-green fabric alcove at Q by Peter Chang in Bethesda ... "

"They looked out on large round tables for eight or more. Above, an airy space that rose into a kind of atrium, filled with enormous square lanterns. Even though it was fairly early, the place was packed. He picked out faces he knew from the ranks of influencers and tastemakers, Pentagon officials and heads of private security firms, all more important than senators or representatives.

"“Peter Chang used to be the head chef at the Chinese Embassy,” Isobel said, as drinks were set down in front of them, but Rivers was hardly interested."

"“I took you to Yana’s funeral and burial so you could more vividly picture yourself in the same tragic state when your usefulness to the Russians comes to an end.” 

"“But I’ve been most useful to them,” he blurted out stupidly."

................................................................................................

"Taking up the menu but not opening it, she continued: “I say wasted because I could have saved Yana, if only she’d let me. If only she’d agreed to the terms of the bargain I laid out for her. But . . .” Her smile vanished. “‘I’m in too deep,’ she told me. ‘I can’t . . . ​I won’t . . . ​It’s too much. If I go any deeper I’ll be buried.’ And in the end she really was buried, Riley. As you saw with your own eyes. 

"“And so we come to you.” Her gaze pierced the space between them. “I’m particularly interested in the origin of these attacks on Benjamin Butler. I want you to get to the bottom of it. I want to know who’s doing the targeting.”"

................................................................................................

"“First,” she began, “I want to know everything your control gives you on Benjamin Butler. Specifically, I want to know why he’s being targeted. Second, I want to know everything your control gives you the moment you receive it.”"

"Riley wiped the sweat off his face. “And?” 

"The scimitar smile had returned, cutting into his sense of relief. “And nothing. That’s it, Riley. That’s all.”"

................................................................................................

"“In return, I will protect you from any and all depredations and machinations cooked up against you by the Russians. I will extract you from any dangerous situation before it becomes lethal.”"

" ... As she called for the check, her mobile rang. “I myself do not like it, Riley, but it is what it is. Get on board or get run over.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 10 

"“According to her Canadian passport, her identity was Anna Alta,” Evan said into her mobile. “What her real name is, is anyone’s guess.” 

"“We’ll pick up that and her driver’s license when we collect the body,” Butler said, a mosquito buzzing her ear. “Any idea who manufactured the passport?” 

"“It’s good,” Evan said, studying it. “But not that good, so it can’t be Israeli. Theirs are perfect.” She held the passport open, its leaves bent back, checking the stitching. “It’s Russian.” 

"Butler grunted. “Mobile?” 

"“Not that I found,” Evan said, turning Anna Alta’s phone over in her hand. She’d wiped the blood off it, made sure it still worked. She should have reported it to Butler, but she was in a bloody frame of mind and not inclined to disclose much of anything."

................................................................................................

"She disconnected, went into the corridor, and followed Limas out into the parking lot. He was heading toward a Tesla S P85D, a cool quarter of a million bucks even without the special metallic electric-blue paint job, which seemed just about right. Evan hurried to her own borrowed car, fired the ignition just as Limas pulled out."

................................................................................................

"“Jaden and I went fishing.” 

"“Where?” 

"“Alaska.” 

"“From Yemen?” 

"Beacum’s expression turned sour. 

"“You thought we’d never find out.” He tapped a page filled with close typewritten paragraphs. “I’ll admit it took us all this time. I admit someone made a mistake. You were inadequately vetted.” 

"“You people! You hear Middle East and right away you think terrorist! Fuck you! My wife’s family aren’t terrorists. They’re law-abiding citizens.” 

"“You’re right, Beacum, they are.” Butler leaned forward. “Except for Jaden. He’s jihadi.” 

"Beacum looked around, licked his lips. “I want to leave. Now. I want to leave. You have no right.” 

"Butler stood. “It’s you who have no right. Jaden took you to Syria to one of three jihadi training camps. Was it Al Noor? Dayr Az Zawr? Or maybe it was Abu Kamal.” He went around behind his subject as Evan had done. “No matter. The point is you were radicalized. Isn’t that right, Beacum?”"

................................................................................................

"Something seemed to come over Beacum, a certain hardness in his expression, a darkness behind his eyes. “Permission? I don’t need your stinking permission. ... "

"Something odd happened then. Beacum burst into tears. “I told them,” he wailed between sobs. “I told them I wasn’t cut out for this.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 11 

"“Was it really necessary to bring Evan into this? She’s not really one of us, and as you’ve said often enough she never will be.” 

"“Yes. I understand your reservations, but she is the one we need. I’m more sure of that than before. Our target has retaliated close to home now, Brenda, which I hadn’t expected. This was as decisive and direct as the killing of our agents. If the SUV hadn’t been armored you and Evan would likely have been killed. I’ve gone after them and now, not content with ultimately killing all three of my agents, they’ve struck back.” 

"“And we don’t even know who their leader is,” Brenda said bitterly. 

"“No. We know him only as Nemesis,” Butler agreed. “A shadow cast over the world. We know only these things about him: he lives in both the real world and the cyber-world, he’s made probing hacks into at least three major nuclear-generating plants around the country, that we know of, as well as our national power grid, and the NYSE and Nasdaq trading platforms. No one’s talking about it, though, and they won’t. Too scary.”

"“ ... Nemesis is the most dangerous adversary I’ve ever come up against, and I’ve been pitted against the best or, if you prefer, the worst. Nemesis is on an entirely different level. 

"“He’s a clear and present danger about whom we know precious little. But, believe me, if anyone can find and destroy him it’s Evan.”"

................................................................................................

"A premature darkness had fallen over the city like a veil, winter murdering the abbreviated afternoon. Across the Potomac, the lights of DC shone—the spotlit monuments and monolithic buildings, and, above, the winking lights of jet planes gliding through the grayness that passed for night over big cities."

" ... Evan, forearms on the table, did notice: that the silver pin she had briefly observed from a distance at the hospital before Butler had hustled her out of Brenda’s room, was of two facing ravens, the tips of their beaks touching."

................................................................................................

" ... Conjuring up anticipatory scenarios was not only a waste of time, it was counterproductive. Therefore, as he sat in the anteroom of Thompson’s offices, he relaxed, willing his mind to go blank, trusting that in that empty space would form both his tactics and his strategy. He had seen the wretched news item targeting himself. It was trash, but it was out there in the brave new world filled with similar trash. That was where the country was at these days. Sometimes, he regretted ever returning. He might have been far better off staying in Berlin. But his rabbi—the most unconventional rabbi imaginable—had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Besides which, he’d never have been able to run his own intelligence shop in Germany. And taking Zoe to another foreign country, without her mother, was out of the question."

" ... “I was adamantly against your appointment, and I’ll tell you why. First, you’ve spent too much time overseas. Second, you’re a Jew.” 

"“My time overseas was in service to this country, sir,” Butler said automatically to stop himself from commenting on how utterly appalled he was. “And yes, I am half Jewish. So what.”

"“Third, you’re an insolent son of a bitch,” Thompson plowed on like a steamroller. “And, fourth, it seems mighty suspicious to me you hiring female agents. What the fuck is that all about? They your own private harem?”"

So typical an attitude prevalent in US more than one would expect of a supposedly developed nation, one has to remind oneself that not only its a comparatively young society making it primitive, but has a millstone of abrahmic creeds tied around its heads, disabling it from any possible looking up. 

"“Your days are numbered here, Butler. Frankly, I’d prefer it if you packed your bags today and flew back to Berlin. Or even better, Israel. You’d be more comfortable among your kind, I have no doubt.” He shrugged. “Though I know you won’t comply. It may not happen today, tomorrow, or even next week, but rest assured as soon as Congress reconvenes in the new year it will happen. That’s a promise from me to you.” 

"Smug as the president himself, he sat back, hands over his belly, fingers intertwining, basking in the tongue-lashing he had just delivered to someone his inferior in every way he could be inferior. As if he were an uppity plantation slave foolhardy enough to step out of line."

"“Thank you for the update, Mr. Secretary.” Pretended he was smiling at Zoe. “But to be honest you haven’t told me anything my own intelligence network hadn’t already informed me of.”"

" ... “I don’t like your tone, Butler.” 

"“You don’t have to like it, Mr. Secretary. I do my job and I do it better than anyone else.” His smile widened. “You see, my set of balls are brass.”"

" ... He wished it was merely from the rush of adrenaline that had flooded his system the moment Thompson started his abominable harangue, but the truth was that he was frightened. He had not come back from overseas to take this job to be harassed and intimidated. His rabbi had assured him this would not happen. He had had no illusions when he had taken the position. As Evan had pointed out, DC was still a snake pit crawling with the worst poisonous vipers, but he had been guaranteed an endless supply of antivenin."

................................................................................................

"General Ryan Aristides’s office was in one of the inner rings, as befitted his rank and standing. What division he worked for and what it was he did precisely, Butler had no idea. Nor did he feel the need to know. What had, however, been abundantly clear to him when the two of them had been put together was that they both had a fierce and abiding interest in Russia, the Sovereign, and, in particular, the Sovereign’s plans for the continuing infiltration and subversion of the American way of life. 

"It took a full ten minutes from the moment Mitchell drove Butler through the first checkpoint until General Aristides’s adjutant guided him into the inner office. These checkpoints, delays, long walks down corridors confusing as those on an aircraft carrier, were no doubt intended to intimidate the visitor, though they had no effect on Butler other than to increase his impatience."

................................................................................................

"“Well, he’s right about that last part,” Aristides said astutely, “but also you frighten the crap out of him, on any number of levels, including the fact that you operate out of the usual chain of command. You get results, so he hasn’t been able to move against you. Until now.” 

"“He’s going to pressure Willis to order a closed-door Senate Intelligence Committee investigation, which he himself will ride herd on. He’s coming after me and, by extension, you.”"

"“Look, Benjamin, you have to understand. Right now Thompson’s star is in the ascendant. Going up against him is not the smart play.” 

"“For you.” General Aristides stared at Butler as if he was made of granite."

................................................................................................

" ... Just because Brady Thompson was a racist pig did not mean that he would make the mistake of underestimating him. Thompson had given him—and, by extension, General Aristides, his rabbi—a very deliberate shot across the bow. Thank God he didn’t know the identity of Butler’s real rabbi, and he was making damn sure he never would. Now more than ever, it was absolutely vital that Butler’s security be airtight. He had just gone to their own private DEFCON 2, the last preparations to defend against disaster."

................................................................................................

Chapter 12

" ... To Butler’s great surprise, Isobel produced one of her wickedest smiles. “Don’t give the threat another thought. On the inside, that is. On the outside, give Thompson every indication that he’s scared the bejeezus out of you. He’ll like that so much he’ll feel comfortable going forward.”

"“But that’s just what I don’t want.” 

"“Au contraire, darling, that’s just what we do want.” She took Butler’s hand. “I want him distracted while I figure out what to do. Trust me.”"

" ... Her distrust and hatred of Russia never wavered, however, aligning with Butler’s own antipathy. Now she worked for one of those Silicon Valley companies that had amassed more personal data on more people worldwide than the NSA and the DOD combined."

................................................................................................

"“I think my life chose me,” Butler said. 

"“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” 

"“Unlike you. You love your work.” 

"Isobel chuckled. “Come on, Ben. So do you.” 

"“Maybe. But I hate the people I have to report to.” Time to return the subject to the here and now. “Listen, Izzy, Evan Ryder is about to pay you a visit.”"

"“You think a great deal of this woman,” Isobel said. “I’ve heard the stories, but figured, like all such gossip, they were exaggerated.” 

"“Usually, yes,” Butler said in all seriousness. “With Evan they’re all true, and then some.”

"Pulling out her mobile, she punched in Hollis’s number. “Roger. Tonight’s game will be starting an hour earlier.” She nodded as he agreed, then she cut the connection. “Done,” she said to Butler."

................................................................................................

Chapter 13 

"The Bead’s head swiveled toward her like a vulture or an owl. He smiled in the most disarmingly benign manner as he said, “Now, what can I do for you, Brenda?” 

"Then the gun appeared."

................................................................................................

Chapter 14 

"The lone woman looked up when they entered and, smiling, laid down her hand, excused herself, and rose to greet them. She wore a dark-colored Armani power suit, under which was an oyster-colored silk shirt unbuttoned enough to show off her impressive cleavage. An elegantly worked gold choker showed at her throat. An emerald ring graced the third finger of her right hand."

"Evan normally had no desire to play poker, but from the moment she saw that Limas had taken her to a high-stakes poker game she had formulated a plan of getting to Limas’s partner as quickly as possible and, she hoped, with the most impact. She needed to be on Benjamin’s chartered plane to the Caucasus Mountains tomorrow morning."

................................................................................................

"“No worries, Louise,” Peter said. “I’ll stake you to whatever losses you incur.” 

"“Very kind of you, Peter, but it’s entirely possible I won’t be needing it,” Evan said, which caused Hollis to snicker under his breath."

"“Well, Ms. Steadman, what’ll it be? Death by folding or defeat by cards?” 

"Evan, who had appeared to be weighing her options, added money to the pot. “I’m all in.” 

"“Too bad,” Hollis said. “I’m raising you ten.” 

"$55,500. 

"“I win.” Hollis leaned forward, hands ready to scoop up the chips. “I hope you’re good for it, Ms. Steadman.” 

"“One moment.” Evan dug in her pocket. “I’ve forgotten all about this.” She drew out Anna Alta’s pendant, laid it on top of the pile of chips. 

"The pair of ravens seemed to stare up at everyone. Isobel gestured. She could not have made people vanish more quickly had she been a sorceress wielding a magic wand."

................................................................................................

Chapter 15 

"“You killed Beacum,” Brenda said. “Why wouldn’t you kill me too?” 

"“Beacum was damaged goods—in all ways possible. Your people captured him, subjected him to torture until he cracked like a nut. So how could I trust him? Would you?” 

"Brenda opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again. She had no desire to engage this monster as if they were friends chatting over coffee and croissants. 

"“Of course you wouldn’t,” he answered for her. 

"“So what do you want?” He was still staring at her. Had he even blinked? She shifted nervously. “Oh, I see.” 

"“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You misunderstand me. My choice for intimate companionship is . . . ​elsewhere.” When he smiled he showed his teeth, nicotine-stained and pointed. “No, Brenda. But, you’re right about one thing: I do want something from you.”"

................................................................................................

"“You almost killed me.” 

"“Me?” He cocked his head, kept his bad teeth hidden. “Ah, no. I didn’t make the bomb that hurt you.” 

"Brenda shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” 

"“I don’t even know who did.” 

"“Again.” 

"“But I do know who planted it.” He lifted a forefinger. “She’s dead. But I can tell you her real name.”

................................................................................................

"“My name is Charles.” 

"Her expression showed how little this meant to her. “Your operational name, I assume.” 

"“Actually.” He had a smile like a shark: wide, toothy, and more than a little menacing. “Charles Isaacs.” 

"Brenda started as if he’d hit her with a Taser. Her arms unwound, her hands on the tabletop nowhere near her Glock. “You’re on the list.” 

"“What list?” 

"“The Nemesis hit list. Three of our agents are dead. Two MI6 people are MIA. All of them were trying to find out intel on Nemesis. Then there’s you.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your affiliation?” 

"“Interpol,” Charles Isaacs said. “I work out of Munich. Normally.” He spun the pack of cigarettes around and around. “There’s nothing normal about this situation. I’m following the breadcrumbs of anti-Semitism. Jews are being targeted by the Russians and by this unknown group called Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"Charles took this body blow with admirable equanimity. “Beacum was working both sides of the fence. He was a lot cannier—and more treacherous—than he let on, or our previous intel on him indicated.” He put his hands together. “So. I need your help.”"

................................................................................................

"“I’m listening.” 

"“Yes. I believe you are. At last. The girl who set the bomb, who drove the Nissan into the parking lot at St. Agnes—her name is Marina Mevedeva. St. Petersburg born and raised. Given the legend of Canadian citizen Anna Alta. Forced into the service of—” 

"“The SVR.” 

"“Ah, no,” Charles said. “Worse. Far worse.” 

"“What could be worse than the SVR?” 

"“She’s an agent of Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"“I need your help to find the bomb-maker.” 

"“Is that your objective in coming here?” 

"“It is now,” Charles said. “In the field, objectives turn on a dime, according to situations, which are always fluid. 

"“So.” Charles began again. “I must be careful here in DC—and everywhere else, especially so now that I’m on yet another kill list.” He produced a death’s-head grin. “You have contacts I don’t in DC. Plus, you have federal credentials.” He gestured. “Whereas I am a stranger in a strange land. I am asking you to be my Virgil.”"

................................................................................................

"Charles pocketed the dreadful photo. “Listen to me, Brenda. Peter Limas is a Russian spy.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 16 

" ... Only Isobel, Limas, Hollis, and Evan remained. Isobel, breaking her stasis, crossed to the door, shut it behind them. She locked it, then gestured to Limas, who crossed to the sideboard, poured three fingers of bourbon into an Old-Fashioned glass, set it in front of Roger Hollis."

................................................................................................

"Evan turned her gaze on Hollis. “Do you know what a group of ravens is called?” Evan asked. 

"Hollis stared blankly at her. “I can’t say that I do.” 

"“A conspiracy,” Evan told him. “A conspiracy of ravens.” 

"Hollis’s smile was frigid. “Useless knowledge.” 

"“I would say it’s quite useful,” Evan countered. “In this instance.”

"Evan kept her attention on Hollis, but Isobel was always in the periphery of her vision; it was clear who ruled this roost. “And are you also part of this conspiracy of ravens?” 

"“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” Hollis said in a tone that sent a chill through the room. 

"Evan took the silver pendant from Isobel’s hand. “The person who this belonged to is dead.”

"“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hollis said dryly. 

"“I didn’t know her.” 

"“Then what’s this all about?” 

"“I want to know if you knew her.” 

"“Me?” Hollis barked out a laugh. “Why on earth—?” 

"“I want to find out everything I can about this group she belonged to.” 

"Hollis shrugged. “Then I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.”

"“I looked in her mouth,” Evan said. “The dental work was definitely Russian.” 

"“All right. She was Russian. So what?” 

"This response was interesting to Evan in and of itself. Any true civilian would have said “What the hell were you doing looking in her mouth?” or something along those lines. Hollis hadn’t batted an eye. This confirmed her initial sense that Hollis was far more than he appeared to be. The response told her two other things: first, Hollis knew who Anna Alta was, and second, he was surprised by the Russian angle. Had he perhaps known her as a member of Nemesis?

"“Is Nemesis a Russian SVR initiative?” Evan said, taking a stab in the dark. 

"“How the hell should I know?” Hollis snapped. “What’s Nemesis?” 

"Evan dangled the pendant at the end of its chain. “I was sure you could tell me, seeing as how you seem to be a part of the conspiracy of ravens.” She motioned for Peter to lay out Hollis’s jacket so the raven pin was visible, then turned to Hollis. “What’s your explanation?” 

"Hollis spread his hands. “I saw the pin in a jewelry store window. I liked it. I bought it. End of story.” 

"Evan had to give him marks for staying cool under pressure. He was a good improviser. Still: “You don’t expect me to believe that.”"

................................................................................................

"Her gaze seemed to bore into Hollis. “Happily that vehicle was armored. As you see, I survived. So did Brenda. Some hours later, I returned to the site and found Anna Alta. She was in hiding. She wasn’t interested in answering my questions. Instead, she ran.” 

"“So you’re a federal agent. And you killed her.” Hollis spit this out with a heavyweight hostility. “That’s how you got that fucking pendant.” 

"“You’re upset, angry,” Evan said. “So you knew her?” 

"Hollis screwed up his face. “Yes. All right. She was Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"Isobel continued to glower. Hollis’s face was as blank as a windowless building. 

"“What is your conspiracy of ravens? What are you mixed up in?” 

"Hollis’s response was to pull a pistol. It was small, a .22, easy to conceal. It didn’t have a lot of stopping power, but at this close distance it didn’t matter. A .22 bullet could kill Evan just as efficiently as a .45."

................................................................................................

Chapter 17 

"Evan hauled Peter left down the hallway as fast as she was able. Limas was hurt—how badly was yet to be determined—but it was all too apparent that being thrown against the wall hadn’t done his focus or his ability to reason any favors. He was like a sleepy child being tugged along by a hurrying parent."

" ... Blood oozed and then stopped as, together, they climbed down through the bare branches of the hackberry to the stinking pavement below."

................................................................................................

"“I’m thinking of Peter Limas.” 

"“Why? He’s going to the hospital.” 

"“No,” Butler said. “He’s going with you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Listen to me, Evan. There’s something I need to tell you, something I deliberately didn’t tell Brenda. There was a seventh name on the Nemesis kill list. I redacted it before she saw it and before I showed you.” 

"Despite her aches and pains, Evan’s mind was working overtime. “Not Peter Limas?” 

"Butler nodded. “Limas goes with you,” he said, in a tone of voice Evan knew all too well. “I—we—need to find out who he really is and why he’s on that list. Why he has a business partner who wears a raven pin.”"

"Three hours later, Evan, Peter Limas, a doctor, and a nurse were wheels up over the Atlantic, on their way to Malpensa Airport in Milan, on the first leg of their long, lonely trip to RLK Svaneti National Park in the Caucasus Mountains of Georgia."

"The red-brick building looms up before her, backgrounded by a sky white from the blinding sun. Where is the red-brick monstrosity? How did she come to be here? She cannot move. When she opens her mouth, she emits only silent breath. The glowering eaves, the ravens, and the turrets fill her field of vision. Has she passed out? Is she in the grip of a waking nightmare? She tries to sit up, tries to take several deep breaths. She wants to call for the doctor. Where is the plane?"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 18 

"He had warned General Boyko—he could never think of him as Yuri Fyodorovich, no matter how long they had known each other—not to interfere with his plans for Evan Ryder, but the head of GRU had gone and done just that: he was doing whatever it took to distract Gorgonov from concentrating on Evan. Evan was a difficult enough target without Gorgonov having to divert his energies elsewhere. That Boyko had pulled this off was enough to make Gorgonov want to torch the entire building. But, with an effort, he restrained himself, in part because he did not want his bodyguards with him to see how vexed he was, but mostly because he had a better idea, one that would get under Boyko’s skin, make him want to scratch an itch he couldn’t reach. If it was a war Boyko wanted it’d be a war he’d get."

................................................................................................

"Now, on this icy winter’s eve he was sitting in his den, outstretched legs crossed at the ankles, sipping an iced vodka, watching his cache of Leni Riefenstahl films. Somewhere in the secret heart of the apartment, where neither his wife nor his cleaning lady would ever find it, was a lockbox chock-full of Nazi paraphernalia. Long ago, at school in St. Petersburg, he had come to the conclusion that there was very little difference between fascism and communism, being two paths to the same goal: to keep the masses under control. ... "

That defines the author. 

................................................................................................

"He was about to step back when he saw her stumble over the curb. One more step and she toppled to her knees. Her Zac Posen opened and he saw the blood. The raw wound in her abdomen was enormous, as if she had been shot at close range with both barrels of a Saiga tactical shotgun."

................................................................................................

Chapter 19 

" ... In any case, Ryder was on her way to whatever destination her brief dictated; everything now revolved around Isobel keeping her marks on a tight leash. Any break in their routines might very well alert their higher-ups that they had been compromised. The way to do that with Rivers was to keep him scuttling—so busy he had no time to think. Hollis was her mark, as was Rivers. The little twerp was easily manipulated and thus neutralized. But Hollis—Hollis had put something over on her with this Nemesis business. It was all she could do not to strangle him. She hated him with a fire that would never be extinguished until he got the end he so richly deserved."

................................................................................................

"Reading through the last page, Isobel closed the folder, set it down on the cushion of the chair upon which she perched. Only then did she finally look up at him. “There’s nothing here about who is spearheading the attacks against Benjamin Butler.” Her eyes glittered like knife blades. “Didn’t I ask you to find out? Did you not hear me? Are you stupid?” She tilted her head, and before Rivers could respond, added, “Or maybe you’re simply incompetent.” 

"Rivers swallowed hard. “I’m still digging.” 

"“Well, dig faster.”

................................................................................................

"“You’re handled by the SVR,” Roger said, somewhat defensively. “I get my orders from GRU.” 

"Isobel watched him, doing her best to keep calm. How had it taken Evan Ryder to crack this rotten egg open? No matter. Why feel jealous when, because of Ryder, she was finally getting somewhere with Hollis? “So Nemesis is a Russian initiative?” 

"Hollis shrugged. “I don’t know who’s behind it, but it’s been clear to me for a while that it’s needed.”"

"“That pin . . .” 

"“The double ravens, yes.” Hollis shook out another cigarette and, without offering her one, lit up. “They’re a symbol—a symbol of a new era, the start of a cleansing.”"

Is this deliberate fraud, imposing nazi and KKK creeds on Russia? 

................................................................................................

" ... “The least I can do is inform Nemesis about this Steadman.” 

"Isobel’s eyes narrowed. “Take a moment to think that through, Roger.” 

"“Why? It’s actionable intel. Nemesis can go after this fucking female spy.” 

"“It’s also going to tell them that you’re incompetent, maybe no longer of use to them. Then they get rid of you to seal the leak tight. If that’s what you want, go right ahead.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 20 

"Having waited patiently through her conversation, Charles said, “All I know is the bomb-maker’s name,” Charles said. “Voron.”"

"“Now I have to wonder whether the operation is Russian at all.” 

"“What? How d’you get that? Isn’t Voron a Russian word?” 

"“Indeed. But it’s Russian for raven.”"

................................................................................................

"“We’re looking for a bomb-maker,” Brenda said. 

"“He’s probably Russian,” Charles added. “He’s known as Voron.” 

"“The Raven.” Nal nodded, took another toke. “I’ve heard of this one.” His voice was thin and strangled from holding the smoke in. “Very meticulous, very excellent.” The smoke emerged from between his lips in a hiss like a steam engine. “Also, very unusual. Possibly unique.” 

"“Why is that?” Brenda asked. 

"“Firstly, Voron does not work for the SVR or any other faction of the Russian intelligence Kommandatura in this country.” 

"“Who gives Voron his orders?” 

"Nal shrugged. “That I don’t know. What I can tell you is that up until several months ago Voron was freelance. Now not.” Nal grinned. “Secondly, Voron is not a man.” His eyes were very large in their sockets. “Voron is a woman.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 21 

" ... They were also equipped with cold-weather clothes, including fur-lined hiking boots and toasty Canada Goose arctic anoraks for their foray into the Racha Park area. 

"Twilight had descended with them. By the time they took a taxi from the airport into the heart of the city the lights were on and the sky was streaked with charcoal. Tbilisi was a far different city than it had been before the Rose Revolution of 2003 ousted the post-Soviet Shevardnadze government. Evan and Limas found themselves being driven through a vibrantly painted, bustling city with good food and rosy-cheeked people with smiling faces. But Old Town was still Old Town, with its pastel-colored wooden houses, liberally sprinkled with the confetti of filigreed porches and railings. And, of course, the Kura River still placidly divided the city.

"The light faded fast here and the nights were long. All through a dinner of roast chicken with sour blackberry sauce, cheese bread, and stewed wild greens at a restaurant fronting the river, there was nary a word exchanged between the two. Lights twinkled beyond the trees on the far bank, the sky was a clear navy blue. But for Evan, the image of the red-brick mansion with its towers and its ravens flickered before her, superimposing itself like a shimmering mirage over the peaceful cityscape and the snowcapped peaks toward which they were headed."

................................................................................................

" ... She swallowed an antibiotic capsule, spread antibiotic cream on the inside of a new pad, applied it to the wound. 

"Afterward, she stood at the window, looking out at a foreign street in a foreign land, and thought of Lyudmila. Where are you?I know you’re not dead. If you were I’d feel it in my bones. And I miss you. All the while, she searched for familiar signs: the shadow in a doorway across from the entrance to the hotel, the anonymous dark car parked along the curb, the occasional movement of men on watch inside a cramped space. But as hard as she looked nothing of the sort was visible. Perhaps they weren’t being tailed, but constant vigilance had become such an ingrained part of her life it was impossible—not to mention inadvisable—to stop. The moon presented itself as a crescent scar in the darkness. A truck rumbled by and that was all. Not a pedestrian out for a late-night stroll or walking his dog could be seen. The street was as empty as a disused warehouse. At that moment, Tbilisi seemed a lonely city. But possibly that was just her. The failure of her life—the life she had chosen (or had it chosen her? A question she had never been able to answer)—was forever with her.

"She had a blank spot in her memory. From three years ago. A gap of three months during a time when she was overseas working with Butler. A gap that began soon after their mission outside St. Petersburg and ended right before Josh broke her heart. And it was during those three lost months that Bobbi had been killed. Back home in Bethesda, her sister had stepped off the curb at a busy intersection and had been struck by a hit-and-run. ... "

"Retaliation. Both Evan’s sister and Butler’s wife victims of hit-and-runs within months of their returning from their mission in Russia. The GRU could have handled the two murders in different ways, but they hadn’t. The Russians had sent a message: you hurt us, we hurt you back."

................................................................................................

"The temperature was already near zero at the entrance to the park, and as they drove higher into the Caucasus it began to drop further, precipitously, obliging Evan to turn up the Range Rover’s heater to the maximum. An icy wind, bitter and inhospitable, traveled over the land, racing down from the tops of the Caucasus. 

"Butler had given them the GPS coordinates where the agents had been found."

................................................................................................

"Possibly, Evan thought, but it seemed to her there was also something impossibly majestic about the Caucasus. “Ka-kaz,” she said. 

"“What?” 

"“Ka-kaz was the original name,” Evan said. “Also the Hittite name for the people living on the southern shore of the Black Sea.” She made a sweeping gesture. “There are centuries of history here, Limas. Greek mythology set these mountains as the place where Prometheus was bound. Jason and his Argonauts sought the Golden Fleece in Colchis—the modern Kolkhida Lowland of Georgia, which is hard by the section of the range along the Black Sea coast. And the passes through these mountains, impassible in winter but extraordinarily beautiful in spring and summer, became a major northern migration route for the ancient Fertile Crescent people of the Middle East. The peoples of this region have exhibited an extraordinary ethnic and cultural diversity since early times. Believe it or not, the Colchians were described by the Greek historian Herodotus as being black-skinned Egyptians.”"

................................................................................................

"Tossing the mobile in a drawer of his desk, he slit open the file with a penknife and shook out the contents: printouts of chatter on the secure networks Turkey Forward Station monitored. As he read, his pulse climbed. These communiqués involved Nemesis, an organization he and his team had been monitoring, gathering intel about for the Sovereign. But more than that, one of them hinted that Boyko had a private connection to Nemesis that no one, least of all the Sovereign, knew about. 

"This news was so hot, he knew he needed both clarification and confirmation before he could believe it, and act on it."

................................................................................................

Chapter 22 

"The sun had not yet risen when Gorgonov and the Sovereign set out on horseback. Mist cloaked the lowlands outside Moscow in a mystic shawl. The horses’ hooves beat the frozen ground to death, cracking ice, kicking up clods of snowy earth as the steeds thundered across the grasslands, heading for the dense pine forest to the east. The sky was streaked marble. Crows cawed and circled."

"After a time, the Sovereign jerked the reins, turning the horse around so that they both faced Gorgonov. “I’m starting to harbor doubts about our General Boyko. I don’t think we have half the number of bots we should have. We need to be flooding the American internet with dezinformatsiya. Now that they have a comically ineffectual party in power and the opposition is in total disarray, it is our time to do anything with the government we want. And this president is nothing more than, as the Chinese say, a paper tiger. I can make him do or say virtually anything I want.”"

................................................................................................

"“Nemesis is a neo-Nazi organization,” Gorgonov said. “My suspicion is they’re an action group funded and controlled by our own RNU.” He meant the Russian National Unity Party, an ultra-right-wing group, espousing neo-Nazism, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and Russian nationalism. It also wanted the Russian Orthodox Church to have a larger role in Russian life and government. As such, the RNU was anathema to the Sovereign and the State.

"“Well, that is a surprise.” The Sovereign’s voice dripped contempt. “I’ve tolerated these criminals long enough. I want your keen eye trained on the RNU.” 

"“That might be construed as stepping on the FSB’s toes.” The FSB, like the American FBI, was in charge of internal security. 

"“I’ll handle Roskov.” Alex Roskov was the head of FSB. “You do what you need to do with the RNU. It’s grown at an alarming pace, and according to you, that’s due to Nemesis. The two are bundled, I’m quite sure. There’s a serpent at the bosom of Mother Russia, Anton Recidivich. Find that serpent and kill it.” 

"“No matter how deeply inside Russia’s bosom it resides?” 

"“Absolutely, yes. You have my imprimatur.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 23 

"The building was a long, low structure with a corrugated roof. It looked like nothing more than a postmodern barn or a storage facility for silage. This rural acreage in Maryland was where Nal claimed Voron, the bomb-maker, had set up her workshop. Incredibly, the voracious urban expansion that gripped most of the greater DC area had not yet reached its tentacles this far out. 

"Unlike the rolling hills of Virginia, the landscape here was flat and bleak, stubbly as a Marine’s scalp. Once, Nal told them, the acreage had been thick with a verdant forest, but years ago it had been clear-cut in preparation for the building of yet another planned suburban community. The Great Recession had bankrupted the developer and, because more extensive testing by subsequent prospective buyers had detected water contamination from paper mills on higher ground, the land remained unsold and deserted. “It was just the ticket for a bomb-maker looking to set up shop,” Nal had said, just before they left. “But be extra careful. Bomb-makers by definition are borderline crazy. From what I’ve heard, Voron crossed that border some time ago.”"

................................................................................................

"There was nothing in this space, and no indication of what had once been housed here, not even a rusted screwdriver or wrench or even a particle of hay. There were two doors in the far wall directly in front of her, one more or less on each side, and it was clear from her visual of the outside that there must be another space behind the wall."

................................................................................................

"They were back in Tbilisi, at a restaurant near the Rustaveli Theater. It was crowded and smoky, but oddly cold. And loud, which was good for them; no one was going to be able to overhear their conversation in all that din. Vast quantities of lamb and the ubiquitous khinkali dumplings had been set before them, along with tankards of local beer."

................................................................................................

"In the widening chaos, the musclemen lost sight of their quarry, even as they made progress, shouldering their way through the tightly packed crowd. And with good reason. Evan had grabbed Limas with a whispered “Well done. Time for us to go,” ducking him away from a flurry of wild punches, quickly worming them both to the rear of the restaurant."

................................................................................................

"Sprinting around to the driver’s side, Evan wrenched open the door, but at that moment, with a high revving sound, a motorcycle turned into the alley ahead of them, and came roaring at them. Astride the bike was a slight figure in black leather, a helmet of the same color with the reflective visor down. There was no way to tell whether the rider was male or female, let alone who it might be."

"She was familiar with the model of Beretta she’d acquired, knew its idiosyncrasy—how it would pull just slightly to the left. Thrusting the gun out the car window, she aimed at the rider’s left arm, squeezed off a shot. It hit the rider dead center of his chest. He flew back off the bike, which continued to race toward the Lada. Evan backed away from the mouth of the alley just in time. There was a scream of hot rubber meeting metal as the riderless bike sheared off the Lada’s none-too-sturdy front bumper. The Lada slewed again. As for the bike, with the front tire shredded, it stutter-stepped into the blank brick wall on the alley’s far side, climbing it for a fraction of a second before smashing backward onto the pavement, shattering itself in a hail of twisted metal, glass fragments, smoking bits of plastic, and smoking rubber strips. One of the pieces of metal slammed into the Lada’s hood and bounced off the dent it had made. The car rocked wildly on its springs.

"Limas was shaking; his face held a greenish tinge."

................................................................................................

"She was only six or seven paces away when the rider rose up like a phantom. His left hand came out from behind his back and fired three shots at Evan in rapid succession."

................................................................................................

Chapter 24 

"“Yuri, I went to pick Elene up after ballet class and she wasn’t there!” 

"“That’s impossible.” A terrible icy feeling rose in his guts, uncoiling like a poisonous viper. He knew that with what was going on between him and Gorgonov it was entirely possible, although he never for an instant thought that—I mean, Elene was his daughter, for God’s sake!"

................................................................................................

" ... Like neighboring Kapotnya, a dung-heap all its own, very few people wanted to live in Nekrasovka, but many were forced to out of necessity because they worked at the massive water plant or because they could afford nothing better. Then there were the homeless, the drugged-up, disaffected youth, the tattooed gangs that roamed these areas, leaving misery and destruction in their wake."

Last mentioned, evidence of post-glasnost, post-perestroika, freedom of choice in erstwhile Soviet Union, just as the very first result of the said freedomwas mafia, pickpockets, et al? 

................................................................................................

"But now he realized, belatedly, it was true, that he felt differently about Elene. She was the youngest, yes, but she was also a girl, more vulnerable. The boys had always been able to take care of themselves. Weren’t there a couple of beat-downs they had effected against those foolish enough to bully them? Yes, of course there were. His wife had been upset, naturally. But he had felt only pride in them, had rewarded them, against his wife’s protests, by taking them to the GRU officers’ unofficial bordello. “You’re a man now,” he recalled telling each one in his turn. “It’s time you received a man’s reward.”"

"Boyko felt an involuntary shiver run through him, and was instantly ashamed. But this was Elene, his only girl child, the apple of her mother’s eye. He could see her face as clearly as if she were sitting beside him, and, with an uncomfortable start, realized that she was the apple of his eye, as well. If he were to lose her now, he would wreak such holy hell on Gorgonov he’d wish he were dead."

" ... And then, in the shadowed area under the stairs, he saw it. Big as life. An icy dagger pierced his heart, causing agony beyond description. 

"At that precise moment, something extraordinary happened to him that he had heard about but had never experienced. And, in fact, had doubted its existence, putting the stories down to overactive imaginations. As he stared at the wine cask, his mind seemed to leave his body. It was as if he were hovering just below the ceiling looking down at himself staring at the wine cask—the very same kind of wine cask that his men had stuffed Gorgonov’s whore into. This eerie and unfamiliar dissociative state incited by his autonomous nervous system saved him from losing his mind.

"Elene. Now, at the very precipice of disaster, he remembered seeing her dance: her slim form elongated on pointe. How elegant she looked! he recalled thinking. How grown up! As she spun, as her partner lifted her into the air, light as a feather, how ecstatic she looked, as she landed, his hands on her slim waist, her arms spread like a swan’s wings. So beautiful he had felt a pain in his heart. The memory pulsed in front of his eyes like a video repeating over and over again. The hell with the video; he wanted to see her dance in person, see her spotlit on the company’s small stage, hear the roar of approval as she and her partner finished their duet."

................................................................................................

"He peered in, and his heart nearly ceased to beat. 

"There was Elene, looking up at him with fearful eyes. 

"“Daddy,” she said, and rose out of the otherwise empty cask, arms outstretched for him to take her home."

................................................................................................

Chapter 25 

"Limas rubbed his neck, arched his back. “I feel like I’ve been kicked by a bull.” 

"Evan pointed to the rider sprawled insensate on the Lada’s backseat. “Imagine how he feels.” 

"Limas peered in through the Lada’s window, then immediately recoiled. “The motorcycle rider. But he’s dead.” 

"“No, he’s not.” Evan got behind the Lada’s wheel. “Come on.” 

"Limas eyed the now beat-up Lada uncertainly. “Wouldn’t it be better to get the Range Rover?” 

"“In a perfect world,” Evan told him. “But that sniper is still out there somewhere, and my guess is he knows that’s the vehicle we came in.”"

................................................................................................

"“Where to start?” he asked himself. 

"“At the end—the restaurant,” Evan said. “And work backward.” 

"Amiran’s eyes were bloodshot. Both hands gripped the edge of the chair seat, between his spread legs. “You’re right, of course. I made the call just after you bought the Beretta,” he said. 

"“Which turned out to be a piece of crap,” Evan said. “But go on. Who did you call?” 

"“A man I know only as Cuervos.” 

"“You’ve got to be joking.”"

"“What?” Limas said. “What is it?” 

"Evan made an animal sound, like a lioness clearing its throat. “Cuervos is Spanish for ravens.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 26 

"“First of all,” he said, “I want to make it crystal clear I’m not one of them.” 

"“One of who?” 

"“I don’t own a raven pin.” 

"Evan nodded. “Okay. Good for you. Now answer my question. One of who?” 

"“The . . . ​the First Tribe.” 

"“The First Tribe?” “That’s what they call themselves—Die Raben.” Which, translated from German, meant the Ravens. 

"Amiran took another swig of his water, coughed softly, then continued on. “The German core of them claim to be direct descendants of Himmler, Goering, Joey the Cripp.” He meant Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Minister of Propaganda."

So - a German "white" supremacist group not only has crows as symbol, jewellery and code names, but calls themselves crows? Rich in stupidity, but then nazis were nothing if not stupid. 

"“Money,” Evan said. “Terrorist activities cost money. A lot of it, especially on a global scale. Where is Die Raben getting their funding? And don’t tell me that old wives’ tale about hidden Nazi gold.”"

................................................................................................

"Limas sighed. “So, you truly don’t recognize me, do you?”"

"“Your aunt?” was all she said. 

"“That’s right,” Limas replied. “My aunt Lyudmila. Lyudmila Alexeyevna Shokova.”"

................................................................................................

"As soon as General Boyko reached his office, Timmy arrived with the latest batch of items from Nemesis. He went through them while he was still shrugging off his greatcoat. “Why is the American government harboring a Zionist terrorist in its secret services?” the first one read. It went on to accuse Benjamin Butler of the most despicable crimes, the latest in what was now a barrage of “newly unearthed facts” incriminating him. Boyko turned to the next several communiqués. It was immediately apparent that Nemesis was also stepping up its campaign to trash any American not of the Caucasian persuasion. Two items accused the black American professional athletes of being un-American. ... A third item was in defense of the president for tweeting that the American flag burning by the neo-Nazis, now called the alt-right, an amusing euphemism that Boyko had dreamed up himself, was an acceptably peaceful manner of protest. ... "

No different from what barrages India has suffered generally from left, congress and urban naxals, and from the opposition since 2014. 

" ... It was immensely amusing to him that Nemesis was his number one client."

................................................................................................

"“My real name is Vasily, Evan. Vasily Shokov. But after my parents died, Lyudmila gave me a new identity in Russia as Vasily Mevedev so she could smuggle me out. When she came to me, Aunt Lyudmila was very circumspect,” Limas said. “She was like a grand master chess champion. ‘Always play the long game,’ she told me once. ‘No one else does; they’re all too eager to get over on one another in the short term. In the end, you’re the one who survives.’” 

"“Just like this, you want me to believe that you’re Lyudmila’s nephew?” Evan shook her head. “She never showed me a photo of you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Lyudmila could have kept us, I suppose, brought us up. Instead, in England, she brought us to friends of hers who lived in a very big stone house in Sussex. The Limases. She wanted a different life for both of us. But she also . . . ​well, she saved me for a particular purpose.” 

"“What purpose?” 

"“I think she foresaw a day when she would run against the grain of Russian Federation policy. She loved Russia dearly, but she didn’t believe in what had happened to it. She despised the Sovereign’s Russia.”"

"“And just before she vanished, she sent me a coded message. She told me that if anything seemed out of place, if anything changed in my situation, I should go find you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Is that what you think of Brenda? That she’s just playing you?” 

"Limas turned to Evan, his moonlit face so very sorrowful. “Isn’t that what she does for a living, play people?” 

"Evan had no answer for that. How well did she know Brenda, after all? And playing people was what she did for a living, too.

"Their forms passed through light and shadow, like candles flickering in a strong breeze or at the end of their lives. A dog barked far away, the sound echoing among the shanks of the mountains, a lonely, melancholy sound. They came to a shed where the proprietor kept his snares, ropes, and green saplings, stripped of bark, ready to be bent with the tough netting to snare larger game—red deer, no doubt. Evan peered in briefly, the paraphernalia silvered by the moonlight."

................................................................................................

Chapter 27 

"Popping the cork, he poured the sparkling wine into a flute, took it and the bottle over to the window, stood sipping as he looked out onto Lubyanka Square, where the wide-shouldered buildings blocked out the fragile light of the coming day. Few people braved the elements at this early hour—just a few hardy souls, bundled into anonymity, hurrying diagonally across the square, coming to relieve members of the SVR night shift."

Next description is identifies author as either US born and bred, or one desperate to cater to US readership. 

" ... he was served fresh coffee and a plate filled with a pyramid of Entenmann’s chocolate-glazed doughnuts, flown in daily for him. ... "

For someone with power to fo that, it's abominable low taste - after all he could far more easily have fresh croissants from Paris and chocolate truffles from Germany! 

................................................................................................

" ... He had set aside this completed work, when he was handed a last-minute communiqué that his people had intercepted between General Boyko and someone by the name of Alice. But then he saw that because the paper had been smudged on its way over to him he’d read the name wrong: Boyko was corresponding with Allis. An Allis in Germany. His people had narrowed the source down to somewhere in Bavaria. And, the person who had transcribed the intercept had circled two words that had not been in Cyrillic: Die Raben. 

"Gorgonov fairly leapt out of his seat. His hand was shaking so much the paper fluttered like a bird’s wing. Die Raben. The Ravens. Boyko hooked up with a German—a German in Bavaria, no less, the birthplace of Nazism. Now a hotbed of neo-Nazis. His heart rate climbed precipitously, and it was all he could do not to let out a shout. 

"Die Raben was Nemesis."

................................................................................................

" ... When he returned to his table he saw that his daughter was holding a plush bear, its coat shiny brown."

"Maks accepted Yuri the bear and, taking up a carving knife, slit open the seam along the animal’s back. Out fell a cheap pay-as-you-go mobile phone."

................................................................................................

Chapter 28 

"As she stared at the tabletop, Brenda fell into a kind of reverie or trance, as if trying to conjure up the afterimage of the bomber, catch a scent of her, intuit what was in her mind. It was in this altered state that she became aware of the hint of airflow caressing her cheek. 

"“Charles, is there a window open somewhere?”"

................................................................................................

"Brenda looked at him, pointed to where the smoke had disappeared, and he nodded, getting it. They both stood and, without a word, picked up the table, moved it off to one side, exposing the floor underneath. Stubbing her butt out on the tabletop, Brenda drew her sidearm while Charles squatted again, ran his fingertips over the rough-hewn boards. The nature of their surfaces made detection difficult and laborious, but after several moments he discovered a short length of clear plastic cord jammed into the crevice between two of the boards. He pulled it slowly upward until it was taut. He looked up at Brenda briefly. She was standing three or four paces away, in the classic shooter’s stance: arms stiff, legs at shoulder width, both hands on her gun, aiming directly at the center of what they now saw was a trapdoor to what must be a root cellar. 

"They both knew, without voicing it, that Voron might well be hiding down there. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... The wooden trapdoor had protected him from the brunt of the blast, but as it flew apart a thick shard of wood had pierced his chest like a javelin thrown by a powerful adversary. 

"And as Brenda watched, half-stunned, deafened, that adversary rose up from the root cellar where, indeed, she had secreted herself when she heard their car driving up. 

"Voron. The bomb-maker. The Raven. 

"Dark-haired, light-eyed, her body small and compact, a gymnast’s body, unformed, like a prepubescent girl, or, even, a young man not yet grown into whiskers. When she was only halfway into the room she swiveled her torso, even as she continued her ascent up the stairs or ladder that was hidden from Brenda’s view. A basilisk stare that would have creeped out Medusa struck Brenda like a stone from David’s slingshot. She felt it in the center of her chest, could swear her muscles contracted, convulsing as if with trauma."

................................................................................................

"Agonized moments later, her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed, unconscious, stretched between Charles and the devil."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 29 

"Copper and salt. She smells the blood. On the walls, the floor, or simply hanging in the air. Her nose is filled with it as she is rolled down a narrow corridor. Fluorescent lights above, like arrows pointed toward—where? Slipping in and out of another dreamworld, a dense forest of pines, icy, snow-bound. She is running. Above her a conspiracy of Ravens follow, yellow eyes fixed on her as she runs. With a whoosh, the shaft of an arrow passes by the side of her head, so close she ducks away, falls, regains her feet, keeps running. 

"Running into the snare . . ."

................................................................................................

"Evan recalled the conundrum she had related to Peter of the tall native and the short native, one who only told the truth, the other who invariably lied. How to tell which was which? Evan had very few vulnerabilities. Up until this moment, she had never considered that Lyudmila could become a liability, but in her world of shadows and betrayals, any form of friendship could be exploited by a clever and resourceful enough enemy. Is that what had happened here? Had Gorgonov given Limas the mother of all legends—an entirely credible background that led Evan back to her friend? If so, it was a diabolical plan. But toward what end?"

................................................................................................

"“Right,” Butler replied. “In the meantime I’ve got actionable intel. Through intercepts, it’s becoming clear that there’s a fatal feud going on between the SVR and the GRU. The latest intel is that Gorgonov and General Boyko are at each other’s throats, over what we don’t know, but it seems possible that Limas is the key. He’s Gorgonov’s agent and he’s on the Nemesis kill list.” 

"“Better he’s with me than anywhere else.”"

................................................................................................

"“No. Oh, yes, there is one other bit of news. We may have ID’d the woman who drove the car bomb into the St. Agnes parking lot. We think her real name is Marina Mevedeva.” Marina Mevedeva. Evan felt all the air rush out of her. “I knew she was Russian. And from my violent encounter with her, certainly Russian trained. Could the Russians be bankrolling Nemesis?” “Huh. If that’s true, the prime driver would be General Boyko. With its troll bot presence and its active agents on the ground, it seems logical the GRU would be behind them.”"

"Outside it was brighter now, the air clearing. As she glanced down, Peter Limas appeared, looked up at the sky, and, breath steaming, stretched. Then he turned and, briskly rubbing his hands together, went back inside. 

"Evan moved back, sat down on the rumpled bed. Her head was spinning. “Peter Limas said he lost track of his sister,” she said. “It’s a long shot, but maybe he can ID the photo.”"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 30 

" ... Butler determined to spend the evening with his daughter, as any father worth his salt would. 

"They went shopping together. While Zoe had a ball picking out presents for herself, she was also adamant about buying him presents with the money she had apparently saved from the weekly allowance Butler gave her and for doing chores around the house for which Butler also paid her. 

"As they went from department to department in Neiman Marcus, happy the store was open late during the Christmas holiday season, Butler could not help but be bowled over by the manner in which Zoe chose and paid for the presents for him. Most adults he knew wouldn’t have expended as much thought as Zoe did on what the recipient of these presents would like. She chose a gift pack of Fruition chocolate bars, her father’s favorite, the shaving cream he preferred, and a comfy-cozy-looking plaid flannel shirt on sale that Butler had admired but had not bought for himself, intent as he was on shopping for his daughter. ... "

................................................................................................

"He saw Zoe into the backseat of the car, then helped Mitchell pack all the boxes and bags into the trunk. As Mitchell slammed the door down, Butler caught a glimpse over his shoulder of a black four-door Ford sedan nosing out of the traffic flow and double-parking three cars behind them. 

"Nothing happened for a moment. Then the curbside rear door began to open. 

"“The Cheesecake Factory,” Butler said, Zoe’s favorite, as he ducked into the car. A moment later, Mitchell pulled them out into the thick traffic, slowed to a crawl. Turning in his seat, Butler peered out the rear window. Through the glare of streetlights and the beams of headlights he could just make out the Ford pulling away from the curb and following them."

"When Mitchell stopped in front of The Cheesecake Factory, as Zoe was singing “Brightly shone the moon that night/Though the frost was cru-el . . .” Butler saw the black Ford slow and come to a stop near them. Perhaps for this reason, he now recalled that Wenceslas, king of tenth-century Bohemia, had been assassinated by his brother."

................................................................................................

"He looked down at the folded sheet of paper as if surprised he had hold of it. Then, as carefully as if it were a bomb, he opened it. He had to read it through three times before the reality set in: he was summoned to appear on January third before a Senate Intelligence Committee chaired by the Secretary of Defense’s good friend, Senator Willis. 

"Brady Thompson had made good on his threat."

................................................................................................

" ... If she had been thinking clearly, she would not have followed him down the corridor. If she hadn’t been critically overextended, she would have ordered Willie to call his partner out into the showroom. If her brain wasn’t still reeling from the multiple shocks of the explosion, Charles’s death, and having to kill Voron to keep herself alive, she wouldn’t be entering the back room just behind Willie."

................................................................................................

Chapter 31 

"They entered the cathedral of trees and pine needles, with cones crunching underfoot. Evan took them deeper and deeper, the chill seeping through their sweaters and trousers, and into their muscles, stiffening them. She led them into and across a small, roughly semicircular clearing, the back of which was an almost solid wall of trees. 

"Evan positioned herself within the clearing and pushed Limas back against a rough-barked pine tree. “You’re blown, Peter. Any way you slice it or dice it, the plan you and Gorgonov had for getting close to me is fucked, over. Finis.” Evan gestured with her head. “You might as well call him and tell him as much.” 

"A curious expression crossed Limas’s lips, as mysterious as that of the Mona Lisa. It seemed as if he was almost relieved that the ruse was over."

"What was most curious to Evan was that now that his real identity had been blown Peter showed neither concern nor regret. 

"“Why are you pretending to be Lyudmila’s nephew? To befriend me, that’s certain. But then what? What is it Gorgonov enlisted you to get out of me?”

................................................................................................

"“I’ve been thinking,” Limas said, peering at the two corvids. “The raven is a powerful symbol in ancient Germanic myth. Wotan, or Odin, the god-king of Reginheim, had a pair of raven familiars named Memory and Thought. These ravens would daily bring the great god news from the nine realms.” 

"Evan nodded. “Yes. And the upper echelons of the Third Reich—especially Hitler himself—put great store in the myths and magic of the ancient Germanic tribes. So that’s likely where Nemesis got the name the First Tribe.”"

................................................................................................

"Evan, registering the silence that comes with a cessation of morning birdsong, put a forefinger across her lips. Limas’s eyes narrowed. Don’t move, Evan mouthed. Long seconds ticked by. Limas mouthed, What? Patience, Evan answered him silently. 

"All at once, there was a sharp snap and then a great whooshing as of a strong wind getting up between the trees. But the treetops above them remained unmoving."

................................................................................................

Chapter 32 

"Limas was having none of it. He followed Evan’s curious zigzag path as best he could, failing ultimately because the route Evan took was so unpredictable all Limas could do was stumble blindly after her. 

"Ahead of her, Evan saw the sniper—who, in the quiet countryside, had traded his long gun for a Russian Interloper Styx, a powerful hunting crossbow. The hunter, caught unawares by Evan’s erratic headlong sprint toward him, fired even as he was driven backward in order to keep an optimal distance between him and his quarry. As a result, the bolt passed through Evan’s parka, missing her side by inches.

"The stalker was still backing up when another small but distinct snap sounded, and he was taken off his feet as the second snare, which Evan had driven him into, caught him. The crossbow, stuck in the webbing, was now useless, and, coming up to him, Evan wrenched it out of his hand, pulled it free of the webbing. She was glaring at the stalker through the prison the trapped man was futilely trying to tear apart as Limas came up beside her."

"“You were right.” There was a note of awe in Limas’s voice. “He did come after us.”

"“I gave him only one angle to shoot me,” Evan said, cutting through the netting. “Where he’d have the best line of sight.”"

................................................................................................

"“Bugger it.” Under the increasing stress, Limas was reverting to phrases from his British upbringing. “For a moment there I had this weird notion that he was a real werewolf.” 

"Pointing out the sniper’s shaven tattooed head, Evan said, “Not enough hair.” 

"Limas snorted in amusement. Her unconscious attempt at humor helped calm them both. 

"“But in a sense, he is a werewolf,” she added. 

"“What d’you mean?” 

"“Think Werner Naumann, history buff.” 

"Limas tapped his lower lip in thought. “Yes. Naumann was Goebbels’s aide at the end of the war. It was his idea to create a Nazi Werewolf Unit that would attract the most skilled of the Nazi soldiers still alive, forming a fifth column, a lethal underground resistance against Allied occupation. But by that time the Nazis had no more fight left in them, and, according to historical records I’ve seen, the Werewolf Unit was never formed.” 

"“Well, it’s been resurrected as the First Tribe,” Evan said. “Take a good look at the tattoo on the top of his head.” It was the Third Reich’s Imperial eagle, wings stretched, talons grappling a globe containing a swastika. “I think the First Tribe is Nemesis’s name for its field personnel.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Evan let him go. The stalker had already affirmed that he wasn’t going to give up anything, and Evan believed him. She had had more than her fair share of run-ins with fanatics. The main problem with them was that they weren’t afraid to die. Worse, they felt that bearing pain—even excruciating pain—was the hero’s way of keeping their group or cadre or sect or tribe safe and secure. They embraced martyrdom the moment they signed on; Amiran, the gun dealer, being the most recent example of how much they devalued life. 

"But, inevitably, as she watched Limas return to pounding the stalker over and over in savage glee, she wondered who the monster was now. 

"At length, Limas’s attack slowed and then ceased altogether; he crouched over the raw slab of meat, sated. As for the stalker, he had ceased to care, or even breathe, some time ago."

................................................................................................

Chapter 33 

"The two men, bundled up against the icy wind skating along the riverbanks, elbows on an iron railing, stared out at the bleak scene. Without traffic, the river and environs looked like a painting by an artist on the verge of suicide.

"Aliyev was a tall, slender, saturnine man with rounded shoulders and a nose that had been broken once too often. His dark eyes, deeply set in sockets too close together, peered out at the world with inveterate suspicion from beneath a heavy brow. When put together, these features made his gloomy face look like the subject of an El Greco portrait.

"“It was killing weather like this that did in Hitler’s army,” Aliyev said. 

"“I do believe the heroic Communist forces played their part,” Boyko retorted."

................................................................................................

" ... Boyko and his family had been on vacation at a resort fronting the Black Sea. Out smoking cigars on the terrace late one night Aliyev had mentioned his admiration of the superb manner with which the Nazis had run Germany, and what a shame it was that they had been led down the garden path by a syphilitic madman. Six weeks later, back in Moscow, Boyko had invited Aliyev to dinner at an out-of-the-way restaurant he often favored when he didn’t want to be seen or even noticed. Afterward, as they enjoyed one of the General’s vintage brandies in the apartment Boyko kept for his assignations with his parade of mistresses, he had brought out his carefully curated Nazi memorabilia as proudly as if they were his prized pupils. He’d never before showed his treasures to anyone else, but he trusted Aliyev to both understand and appreciate the Third Reich as he did. And he hadn’t been wrong. From these poisoned roots a solid alliance had grown, slowly but surely bearing its poisoned fruit."

................................................................................................

"“Hmm. I assume since you’ve come to me, this problem isn’t small.” 

"“Well said.” Taking the cigar butt out of his mouth, he examined the ash end as if reading tea leaves. “I need something done and I can’t be involved.” 

"Aliyev blew smoke out of his mouth, making puffs of humid mist. “So. You need a solution, Yuri. What kind?” 

"“A final solution,” Boyko said without hesitation."

................................................................................................

Chapter 34 

"“There’s one last thing.” Limas hunched forward. “I suppose I should have mentioned this sooner, but with you seeming to not believe a word I’d said, I was afraid.” 

"Limas had her full attention again. “What is it?” 

"“When you showed me the red-brick powder you’d found in the shallow cave with the bodies it rang a bell. But, really, I didn’t put it together until I got a good long look at the pendant. Those two ravens. And then it hit me. Aunt Lyudmila told me about a place she’d been to with you. She told me not to use it as a way to prove I really am her nephew because she was uncertain whether you’d remember it.” Limas spread his hands on the table. “She told me that you and she were in this place—a castle of red-brick, Victorian-looking turrets and towers and, yes, a pair of trained ravens that hung around the slate rooftop. Aunt Lyudmila went and got you out of there. It was very dangerous; she almost lost her life. You remember the deep scar in the muscle of her left shoulder?” 

"“I do.” 

"“That came from the rescue mission. You were in very bad shape when she extracted you. Six weeks in a private hospital outside Moscow convalescing. She went to see you every day.”"

................................................................................................

"Limas broke off as he followed the direction of Evan’s gaze. Directly ahead of them a barrier of concrete blocks had been set across the road. In front of the barrier, the two bikers whom Giorgi had served earlier stood, spread-legged, submachine guns at the ready. On either side of them were a half-dozen of their biker mates, all armed. As the truck approached, they aimed their submachine guns directly at the truck. 

"“What’s going on?” Limas said. 

"For instead of slowing down, Giorgi stamped down on the accelerator. The GMC leapt ahead, gaining speed by the second, cleaving through the high wind that was now bending the tips of the pines and shaking the branches."

................................................................................................

Chapter 35 

"The instant Evan realized that Giorgi had depressed the accelerator, she lunged halfway over the seatback, stretching herself over the proprietor’s shoulder, and triggered the hood latch. The oncoming wind, combined with the GMC’s speed, banged the hood up so that when the fusillade came from the bikers’ submachine guns the bullets struck the heavy hood instead of splitting open the windshield and peppering the interior."

................................................................................................

"The submachine-gun fire started up again, this time from behind them. Limas, lying prone on the backseat, cringed as the back window shattered, and glittering bits of safety glass covered him like hail. The truck shuddered on its shocks as a fusillade of bullets struck the rear bumper, but because of the erratic path Evan was taking none punctured the thick tires. Evan zigzagged wildly back onto the tarmac, the road ahead clear, and accelerated away toward Tbilisi, leaving both bullets and bikers behind."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 36 

"The coroner let out a deep sigh. “Yes, yes. All is well, sir. The pin did not puncture your shirt. It didn’t reach your skin.” 

"“You mean that thing?” Gorgonov tossed his head in the direction of the pin that lay on the bottom of the kidney-shaped pan. 

"“Yes, indeed, sir. I am quite sure that when I do a tox screen of its tip I will find the same blue-ringed octopus venom that killed your man.” He looked up at Gorgonov. “There’s no doubt. You were the target of the attack. Your bodyguard did his job. He got in the way. Lucky for you, but not, unfortunately, for him.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Gorgonov fished out the pay-as-you-go mobile Boyko had stuffed into the bear. ... "

"With a deeply felt shudder, he composed the terse reply: MEET TOMORROW AT DANILOV MONASTERY 9AM."

................................................................................................

Chapter 37 

"“By the way,” Brenda said, “I ought to tell you that the gun is empty. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to come into Willie’s with it loaded?” 

"The split-second he took to check was all she needed. Her left arm blurred outward, and she grabbed his testicles through his jeans, squeezing as hard as she could. At the same time she jerked her head away. He doubled over, his cry as piercing as a newborn’s. She slammed her balled fist into his left ear, creating an agonizing suction that ripped a hole in his eardrum.

"Clutching at her clawed fingers, he lashed the barrel of the longslide into her cheekbone. Her grip on him loosened, and she fell back. As he came at her, she kneed him as hard as she could between his legs. He screamed as he fell. She wrested the pistol away from him, crawled out from under him, sat astride him, and loaded up the gun. 

"“First,” she said, doing her best to ignore the ringing in her ears, “you’re going to show me what the woman who wanted this weapon gave you on loan. Then I want you to tell me about your connections: why Voron came to you and who else like her you’ve serviced.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 38 

" ... Big Ref had earned his name for keeping the peace in and around the Oasis. Below the bar and within easy reach of his meaty hands, was a sawed-off shotgun, a Colt .45, and an old-school nightstick, a trophy of his former profession. The fact was Big Ref had many friends within the local police precinct. To a man, they were more than happy to let Big Ref settle ill-considered incursions into his territory any way he saw fit. “Better him than us,” was a mantra often muttered inside the precinct and in patrol units. 

"Brenda was just about dead on her feet, as Butler astutely observed over the other’s protestations. He would deliver Brenda to the hospital when they were done here, but his immediate goal was to quickly debrief her, take possession of the intel, and get it processed in the most expeditious manner possible. He began asking questions."

................................................................................................

Author does indulge in lyrical descriptions. 

"Butler nodded toward Brenda’s food. “Now finish your food.” 

"Brenda’s smile blossomed like a lotus in moonlight. “Every last bite.”"

Perhaps less realistic, since lotuses bloom in soft sun of early morning rather than moonlight - but one gets the enchantment of the image! 

................................................................................................

" ... Rivers, whose snout had developed the same level of expertise as a truffle-hunter, could detect the delight at the idea that POTUS might be even more vulnerable to kompromat than the Russian Sovereign had believed when he began to target him some years ago. A compromised POTUS had been the dream and the goal of the Sovereign’s top priority initiative for six years now. The long con, in its endgame phase, had become the short con. 

"And then there was the matter of the change in Isobel’s behavior, the urgency in her voice, in everything she did now. Most especially her insistence on intel concerning Benjamin Butler’s defamers. What was going on that he didn’t know about? The questions without answers were driving him crazy."

"Like a battering ram, the SUV bore down on him, and even as he stumbled backward, it jumped the curb, the nearside front fender clipping him, tossing him backward as if he was as light as a feather. He lay on the sidewalk, stunned and numb. ... "

"For a long time nothing happened, and, afterward, what he remembered most vividly was the passersby. They either ignored him or gawked before hurrying on to their very important appointments."

................................................................................................

Chapter 39 

"Evan and Limas were stopped at the airport, taken out of line, detained in a windowless room the approximate size of a broom closet. Apart from a metal table bolted to the polished concrete floor, two chairs on one side, a single chair on the other, there were no furnishings. ... "

" ... This man, younger than the hulk who had already questioned them, was the polar opposite. He smiled thinly, offered his hand and a brief but sincere apology. He did not offer his name and Evan didn’t ask. 

"“In three hours a high-ranking member of the GRU will be arriving from Moscow. I don’t know what the two of you have done to warrant such attention from the Russians and, frankly, I don’t care. Whatever you’ve done or are suspected to have done is of less importance to me than my abiding hatred of Russians.” He handed Evan and Limas their passports. “Your plane has been cleared for immediate takeoff. Two of my men are waiting outside to escort you directly onto it.”"

................................................................................................

"“How are you, Alli?” 

"“More to the point, how are you?” Warmth flowed from Alli Carson, through the ether, from Interpol HQ in Paris."

................................................................................................

"Rivers had no such son, nor anyone else, for that matter, to stand vigil or to move him, if there was, in fact, an assassin coming for him. And that led him to the chilling thought that it might have been Isobel who had ordered his death. Wasn’t the Land Cruiser the exact color as hers? But why would she do such a thing? He still hadn’t delivered the material on Benjamin Butler she had ordered him to research. Had she become impatient? Or, somehow worse still, had someone above her given the kill order? The memory of Yana Bardina’s funeral to which Isobel had very deliberately taken him as a warning was still a fresh wound in his memory. Wherever the truth lay, the fact was that he’d never felt more alone. 

"And then, with a clickety-clack of expensive high heel pumps, that self-same Isobel entered his room."

................................................................................................

Chapter 40 

"“Your body’s taken a beating, Brenda. More than it had any right to endure. And that’s not even counting the psychological and emotional stress you’ve been under.” He tucked the iPad under his arm. “Frankly, it’s a wonder you don’t have a concussion. And there’s a distinct likelihood that within the next week or so you’ll begin to experience some or all of the symptoms of PTSD. Another reason I’m ordering bed rest. You notice I said order, not prescribe. I’m absolutely serious about this. Without proper rest you could do yourself more harm than the cement mixers you encountered. Clear?” 

"“As glass.”"

"Brenda did, in fact, go home. She had no choice in the matter. Butler’s people not only walked her to her door, they went in with her, checked the apartment for, she supposed, electronic surveillance bugs. They poked everywhere."

"Then they remained in front of her building, in their vehicle ... —for a full hour after they left her company. Clearly, they had their own orders concerning her enforced sabbatical."

................................................................................................

" ... In the end, though, she turned away, lay on her side, and thought of Evan. 

"Better to think of her than Peter. She had built up a mini-storehouse of knowledge regarding Nemesis and Charles Isaacs and Voron that Evan ought to hear from an eyewitness—namely her—who could relate details no one else could. But try as she might to concentrate on that aspect of the present, her thoughts kept being borne back ceaselessly to Peter. His betrayal was a violation that cut her to the quick. ... "

"She wept then, feeling broken, fragile, bereft. Trembling in her bitterness, she cried herself to sleep."

" ... She perched on the end of her bed, bent over to tie the laces, and when she sat up the room began to spin so badly she was obliged to squeeze the comforter in a death grip."

................................................................................................

"Burrowing into the back of her closet, where even Butler’s guys hadn’t gone, she pulled up a corner of the carpet, revealing two loose floorboards. From beneath them she pulled out a dull olive-green ammo box, took from it a legend passport in the name of Amy Kendell, which not even Butler knew about, several other docs, and ten thousand dollars in cash. She put the ammo box back in its hidey-hole, replaced the floorboards and carpet. Standing up slowly, she packed an overnight bag with clothing and essential toiletries, took a black shearling car coat from the hall closet, and, checking from the living room window to make sure the car was gone, let herself out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. 

"Never before had she been a victim. She was determined never to be one again."

................................................................................................

"“Me, I never did mind the male gaze,” Isobel said. “I feel empowered.” 

"“To do what?” Rivers said, screwing his courage to the wall. “Kill me?” 

"“Kill you?” Isobel’s lips formed a perfect O. “Where in the world did you get that idea?” 

"“The vehicle that tried to run me down was a cherry-red Land Cruiser.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “You own a cherry-red Land Cruiser, Isobel. I’ve ridden in it.”"

................................................................................................

"“That rainy day is here, Riley. It’s a fucking downpour, and either you spit it out or you’re going down the drain.” 

"“Okay, okay.” Rivers, his eyes open wide, his hands trembling, licked his lips. “It’s about Brady Thompson.” 

"Isobel’s eyebrows lifted. “The Secretary of Defense? What about him?” 

"“He’s a Russian asset.” 

"“What?” 

"“That’s right.” Rivers was both pleased and relieved that he had surprised her with actionable intel. “He’s been an asset for a while.” 

"“How did the Russians . . . ? Sex? Money? What?” 

"“He got in over his head with reckless banking and real estate deals. When they all fell through he had nowhere to turn. Then the Russians stepped in to bail him out, for their usual price.”"

"The next thing she said was: “Do you have any proof?” 

"“Sadly, no.” 

"“What about communiqués, intel, anything?” 

"“My control told me Thompson was off limits, totally protected. He said his political star had risen in the sky. Now it was important that he rise to the zenith and not fall prematurely.” Rivers licked his lips. “By this I inferred that Thompson had been transferred to another corpus.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “Okay, Riley, let’s have the information regarding the origin of the social media attacks on Benjamin Butler.” 

"“Okay, well, it took some time—” 

"“Oh, get on with it, Riley!” 

"“It’s a netbot called Soul Searcher.”"

"“Okay, well, it seems that two months ago the usual GRU netbots, APT 28 and Fancy Bear, went dark. Winked out altogether and haven’t been heard from since. A couple of days later, Soul Searcher started up. Too coincidental for it to be run by anyone other than the Russians. Another thing: the Soul Searcher netbot is far more sophisticated than either of its predecessors. The Russians must have made a quantum jump in their tech. So my bet is that for whatever reason, the GRU has decided to target this Benjamin Butler. Any idea why?” 

"Isobel had a perfectly good idea why: because Ben was their American spy network’s biggest threat. But why now specifically, so aggressively . . . ​it had to have something to do with his going after this Nemesis group. ... "

" ... “Okay, Riley, showtime. Spill.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 41 

"“What happened back there at airport security?” he said as he sipped his coffee. 

"“We were made,” Evan said. “Somehow the GRU found out our whereabouts.” 

"“That’s worrying, isn’t it?” 

"Evan looked hard at Limas. “I wonder who could have told them?”"

"“I didn’t call or in any other manner contact anyone, let alone someone from the Russian side. Besides, according to you, I’m mates with Anton Gorgonov. And even if that was the case—which it’s not—and I told him, how would it get to the GRU?”"

................................................................................................

"“Which black site?” Evan had no good memories of DOD personnel. None at all. 

"“We don’t know for sure. If we ever had records of DOD’s black sites they’ve been lost in a fire we had several years ago. But like all of DOD’s past sites this one is in a location one would never expect. By piecing together an incomplete jigsaw from far-flung sources, we’ve narrowed it down to somewhere in Germany.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 42 

"“Why did you try to run Riley Rivers down?” 

"“Say what now?” 

"He took a step back, but she just advanced on him, keeping the same distance between them. 

"“Why did you use a vehicle identical to mine? Why did you want to make him think that I was out to kill him?” 

"Hollis retreated another step and again she followed him. Now his back was against the side wall."

................................................................................................

"She poked his chest with a stiff forefinger. “I get it now. You don’t want me getting my intel from anyone else. You’re jealous. But why? Do you have a thing for me? Or are you afraid of what someone else might dig up on you?”"

"“How many entities are paying you for your data-mining software? Limas helped you build a company to do good, and what do you do with it behind his back? So Nemesis, and the Russians? But which Russians? Not the SVR, not the FSB. That only leaves one corpus: GRU.” 

"“Hey, I thought we were in this together? Who cares which Russians we’re working for? Aren’t we together?”

"“We’re not in anything together, Roger. We never have been.” 

"After a stunned second, he said, “So you’re, what, a double agent?” 

"“This isn’t about me.” Isobel kept staring at Hollis. He was one of her targets. She knew a lot about him, but not all. Now was the time to peel back the last layers."

................................................................................................

"Another poke from Isobel, harder this time, caused Hollis to make a grab for her finger, intending to bend it, break it, send her down to her knees where, no doubt, he felt she belonged. But she anticipated his physical attack, and so buried a knee deep in his groin. A whoosh like a balloon deflating came from the agonized depths of his abdominal cavity. With great alacrity, she stepped away as he doubled over. 

"“A goddamned mole,” she said. 

"“I heard,” Rivers breathed. “For the GRU. For Boyko.” 

"“So it would seem.” Isobel pulled Hollis’s head up by his thinning, sweat-slick hair, stared into a face twisted by pain. “Right, Roger?”"

"“So here’s our proof, Roger,” Isobel said. “The GRU made a quantum jump in their tech.” She cocked her head. “How much did GRU pay you for your services, Roger?”"

" ... “You know, Roger, it occurs to me—belatedly, I admit—that you weren’t cut out for this sort of life. Yana got you into it, but it was a Venus flytrap. Now she’s been murdered and you’re in way over your head.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “So Boyko is your controller.” 

"Hollis seemed to have clammed up. She made a sudden move at him and he flinched. “Yes and no,” he said thickly. “He was, but then he handed me off to someone else. A man named Alice.”"

................................................................................................

"“But how did it start?” Isobel said. “That’s what I’d like to know.” 

"“Maybe it’s like this,” Rivers said, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Okay. So. Thompson was an SVR asset, and now he’s someone else’s asset. Why? My best guess now, hearing about this feud, is he was poached by the GRU. By General Boyko, specifically. Maybe that’s what started the whole thing. And he’d be the only one with enough power to pull off something like that. Now consider the nature of the asset. Thompson is the Secretary of Defense. A bigger fish I cannot imagine.”"

"Isobel nodded distractedly. She was ready to get into the meat of the matter. Hollis hadn’t so much as said “boo” at the mention of Thompson. He knew. She stared at Hollis fixedly. “So what d’you think of Rivers’s theory?” Hollis said, “I want something in return.” 

"“You might get to live,” Isobel told him. “How’s that.” 

"Hollis nodded sullenly. “Poached,” he acknowledged. “In the tumult following the disappearance of Lyudmila Shokova. Gorgonov was focused on finding out what happened to her, at the Sovereign’s order. He took his eye off the ball, Boyko moved in.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 43 

"Evan and Limas sat across from each other in a darkened booth along the wall at right angles to the bar. They were in the middle of Salzburg. Obersalzberg lay eighteen and a half miles to the south in the Bavarian Alps. They would have been in Obersalzberg by now but for the two-hour delay getting out of the airport in Tbilisi, and almost getting caught there by the GRU."

"This wasn’t the first time it occurred to Evan that Peter Limas possessed no tradecraft. If indeed he was a spy, he was a very poor one. ... In fact, that chimed with the Lyudmila she knew. Still, it was inconceivable that Gorgonov or, for that matter, any of his controls, would send a sleeper out without the proper training in tradecraft, let alone for wet work. Unless, clever fellow that Gorgonov was, he chose Peter precisely because he wasn’t an agent, someone she could smell out.

"The proprietor wandered the room, shaking hands, exchanging bon mots with locals and regulars. Every once in a while, he’d throw a sidelong glance their way when he thought they weren’t looking, but Evan saw him every time, and marked his suspicion. It might be the famed Austrian suspicion of foreigners, or it might be something more specific and, therefore, sinister.

"And yet when he reached their table, he extended a meaty hand, introduced himself as Herr Hennig, and spoke to them affably in the typical overly polite manner of the region. He bought them a round of beer, and an after-dinner drink of his finest brandy, all the while trying to weasel out of them where they were from, where they were staying, and, most insistently of all, where they were headed.

"Herr Hennig nodded, smiling like their long-lost uncle. “Yet still, perhaps you would have time to tour the former salt mine in Hallein, which is now a wonderful tourist attraction. ‘Salzwelten Hallein,’ it is called now. ‘The Hallein World of Salt.’” 

"“What a delightful suggestion! But ah, well, if only we had the time,” Evan said in a mournful tone. “But work is work, as I am certain you understand all too well, Herr Hennig. The hard work you do around here is quite apparent and much appreciated.”"

"“There’s a decent fellow,” Limas said when they were once again alone. 

"Evan emitted a short laugh. “Don’t be fooled, Peter. Herr Hennig was mining for information.” Evan took another sip of the brandy, which was indeed quite fine. “The first thing you need to learn about the Austrians is they’re hypocrites. They come at you with a smile while holding a knife behind their back.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “But what kind of information was he mining for?” 

"“Our destination,” Evan said. “You heard him mention Hallein.” 

"Limas nodded. “Yes. ‘The Hallein World of Salt.’” 

"“Well, it just so happens that the area around Obersalzberg is known for its salt mines.” Evan set aside her snifter. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that Herr Hennig mentioned ‘Salzwelten Hallein.’” 

"Limas’s brows knit together. “Do you think he knows that’s where we’re headed?” 

"Evan shook her head. “He was fishing, that’s all. But I do think that if we’d been stupid enough to tell him where we were going, a number of people—some of whom would no doubt like nothing better than to stop us—would be made aware of our destination.”"

................................................................................................

"Forty minutes later, she returned to her room, having found no sign of human surveillance; she had checked her room—and Limas’s for that matter—for any form of electronic surveillance, finding nothing. All was quiet, all was still, as if a thick blanket of snow covered the entire world."

"The red-brick mansion loomed large in these tableaux, and always the ravens circling pitch-black against the piercing blue sky—a sky she now very much suspected was Alpine. She felt the nearness of the mansion, as if it had a magnetic hold on her, as if the closer she got, the stronger that pull became until it became irresistible. Deep down in her subconscious she was aware of the danger—one greater than any she had encountered before. But what she didn’t know, what eluded her no matter how hard she set her mind to it, was what the danger entailed. And she knew—though maddeningly she didn’t know how she knew—that she would only understand the nature of this danger when she came face-to-face with it. 

"And by then it might be too late."

................................................................................................

"Brenda had chosen the nonstop eight-hour flight to Munich and a minimum two-hour drive to Obersalzberg rather than a long multi-leg flight into Salzburg. She was traveling as Amy Kendall, vice president of a computer sales company domiciled in Grand Cayman. Should anyone call to check her out they’d get an apologetic voicemail requesting the caller leave a message for the unavailable Ms. Kendall."

"While she was waiting in line at the rental car agency, two suits came up on either side of her, and asked her quietly and politely to get out of the line. They spoke English with a distinct Bavarian accent. When she refused, they told her in no uncertain terms what would happen to her if she did not comply. At the same time, she felt the muzzle of a pistol pressing into the small of her back."

"“Shut up,” Fritz said. 

"Hans shrugged, turned back around, staring out the windshield. But it wasn’t long before he was humming the “Horst Wessel Lied,” the old Nazi rallying song. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... She could not afford to give in to anxiety, fear, or despair. These were the true enemy. As long as she remained focused there was always a chance to get out of almost any situation—another one of Evan’s invaluable teachings from their time in Berlin.

"With that in mind, she settled back in the seat, closed her eyes to slits, so that Fritz might believe that she was so relaxed she was taking a nap. Meanwhile, she was taking note of all the road signs and kilometer markings in order to keep herself oriented should she have the chance to escape and call for help. She must not, under any circumstances, give up hope. Occasionally, Fritz and Hans spoke to each other, and Brenda cursed herself for not having the facility with languages Evan had. She spoke passable Russian, Arabic, and Farsi, but her knowledge of German was rudimentary at best.

"The only word that was recognizable to her was “Watzmannhaus,” which both men repeated several times. She was well aware that Watzmann was the third-highest mountain in Germany, and was often associated with Berchtesgaden, once the summer home of Adolf Hitler and later, as war approached, the heart of the Nazi Third Reich. She also recognized “haus” as meaning “house.” Wasn’t the German name for Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest Kehlsteinhaus? A deep shudder ran through her. What had she gotten herself into? And, just as importantly, how? How had she been made at the airport? No one—not even Butler—knew she had even left the States, no less where she was going, and under what legend name. No matter how she looked at the question, no reasonable answer seemed possible. Was there yet another enemy in the field, one who had been hidden from her and from Butler? Or was Peter somehow involved? Had he betrayed her once again? Right at this moment she could not imagine how. She felt blind, as if she was standing so close to a single tree she couldn’t see the forest that had arisen all around her."

" ... Dr. Selsby had been right. She needed rest—a long one. She couldn’t help thinking of the genuine concern on the doctor’s face, of how he had ordered her to bed for at least a week, otherwise she ran the risk of doing herself permanent harm. At the time, it had been a given that Brenda would ignore that order—she had entertained no other alternative. But now that she was well and truly in the soup, she could not help but think that she simply wasn’t up to another prolonged physical battle. And what did that say about her chances for survival?"

................................................................................................

Chapter 44 

"Isobel’s townhouse was unnaturally still when Butler arrived via the back door. It had been a number of long, difficult hours before he was able to break away from the action intel briefs and the strategy meetings with his lawyers on how to handle his appearance before Brady Thompson’s congressional committee, which, he was certain, was set up to discredit him and dismantle MI7. He knew that he was at the precipice, that this was likely his last fight. The committee would either break him, casting him out as a pariah in the intelligence community to which he had dedicated most of his adult life, or damage his reputation so badly that he would no longer be trusted by both his colleagues and his own people. He already knew that General Aristides had side-stepped this process and was now out of the picture so far as he was concerned. So much for powerful rabbis! 

"He saw no possible positive end to his predicament, and if he had not been made of such stern stuff, if his personality had not been forged in the crucible of fieldwork, he might have packed up and returned to Berlin, where both he and Zoe had left a full life and friends who loved them. It was times like these when he questioned why he continually took the hard, dark road, when other, easier, sunnier forks had been presented to him."

................................................................................................

"Turning on him, Isobel said in a low voice so filled with menace that Rivers froze, “Do as I say, Riley. Believe me when I tell you that your life depends on it.” 

"Turning back to Butler, she said, “Here’s the deal. This little shit, Riley Rivers, is an SVR asset. This other little shit”—here she pointed to Hollis—“has been pimping Rubicon Solutions out to the GRU—or more specifically pimping out Soul Searcher, the netbot that has targeted you, to General Boyko.” 

"“Soul Searcher,” Butler said. 

"“Right. Soul Searcher was built with Rubicon Solutions’s help.”"

................................................................................................

"All the leaves were gone and the sky was gray. Thunder rolled through the high Alps and, occasionally, a serpent’s tongue of lightning flicked downward to the earth."

"The day had grown dark, as if with an eclipse, and a wind had got up. It was as if the violent storm that had delayed them in Tbilisi had followed them here into the Bavarian Alps. But here snow, not rain, was coming.

"“You also said that she had told you where that place was, where she had rescued me. And last night, I couldn’t sleep, I kept running our conversations back through my mind, thinking it all through. Parechgadem. It’s the Old High German name of Berchtesgaden, which, ironically, means ‘hay shed’ or ‘one-room hut.’”"

"“Berchtesgaden was Hitler’s summer home and home base of the Third Reich.” 

"“I thought that was Berlin.” 

"“A common misconception,” Evan told him. “In fact, Berliners hated Hitler and the Nazis in general. The Third Reich’s high command trusted only Bavarians, who embraced Hitler and his fascist policies wholeheartedly, never Berliners.”"

"Limas thought a moment. “The parallels to America now?” 

"“Exactly. Fascism is embraced in the countryside, where wealth and education are in short supply. It’s always the big cities that fight the hardest against any form of extremism. Germany then, America now.” 

"“So, your thought is where better for Nemesis to have its headquarters than in the Bavarian Alps.” 

"Evan nodded. “And somewhere in Berchtesgaden, the better to absorb his dark power.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 45 

" ... Fritz and Hans lapsed back into silence, punctuated, at intervals, with brief bursts of Bavarian German directed at one another. 

"She knew they had meant to frighten her, to soften her up, to force her mind to anticipate the hateful things that were sure to come. It was a common enough tactic used on prisoners. Nevertheless, the phrase “Almost there” was the one that reverberated most forcefully in her head, mostly because it was the one real thing they said she could be sure of."

" ... They were quite high up now; she’d had to clear her ears three times since they left the A8. 

"The snow had abated enough so that she could see the Watzmann’s signature double peak, as if through her grandmother’s lace curtains. The road was snow-covered, and the BMW’s tires made a sound like a sleigh rushing over a hill. 

"As the way steepened, the weather changed again, sleet hammered the BMW’s top and hood, sounding to her like the warning of a rattlesnake about to strike."

................................................................................................

"When the bartender returned, he resumed his low tone. “Your pain is a shared one, gnädige Fraulein. I cannot help you, but—” Reaching down under the bar he drew out a scratch pad and the stub of a pencil that looked like a squirrel had had its way with it. “Perhaps a mate of mine can.” He scribbled a name, Joachim Wenzel, an address, and mobile number. As he tore the sheet off, slid it across to her, he added, “Tell him Markus sent you. I’ll phone him in advance.” 

"Evan bowed her head. “I am much obliged.” She pulled out some bills, but Markus waved the money away. 

"“The proud daughter of the war hero von Feuer doesn’t pay here.” He smiled, showing a pair of gold teeth. “This much I can do for a comrade in arms.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 46 

"“You started this,” Gorgonov said, looking on with distaste, “by poaching Brady Thompson, the SVR’s best American asset.” 

"Boyko shrugged his great shoulders. “Ah, you were so busy trying to find Shokova, I thought I’d take him off your plate,” he said smugly, sucking a flake of crust from between his teeth. Then his tone turned ugly. “Now it is what it is, Anton Recidivich. Thompson is mine.”"

................................................................................................

"“All this was pulled off the dark web, Gorgonov, where your lover had stashed it because, I assume, he couldn’t bear to part with it. Cherished memories, and all that.” Boyko took the file out of Gorgonov’s limp grip. “This will ruin you, you know.” He was openly gloating now. “Once the Sovereign sees what’s in here it’s off to Siberia with you. Not even a show trial or a firing squad for you. You will be lost to your wife, your daughter, your entire family. It will be as if you never existed.” 

"The general cocked his head. “Or. I could simply hold onto this and you could tender your resignation. Go into the private sector, become a businessman, do whatever you want. Just as long as you don’t bother me. I never want to see or hear from you again.”"

................................................................................................

"When he was close enough, the Sovereign said, “What have we here?” and took the file from Boyko. 

"“A very serious situation, Sovereign,” the general said. “I have discovered that Anton Recidivich Gorgonov is not fit to command the SVR. In fact, as you can see, as a closet homosexual he isn’t fit to command anything.” 

"The Sovereign raised his eyes, his heavy, penetrating gaze falling squarely on General Boyko. “What is this I hear concerning an assassination attempt on Anton Recidivich?” 

"“What?” Boyko, caught off-guard, took an involuntary step back. “I don’t know anything about—” He stopped abruptly as the Sovereign fanned out photos for him to see."

" ... “But that information on Gorgonov’s past is indisputably damning, sir.” 

"“No, General, it’s not. Unlike these photos of you and the head of our far-right movement, who you hired to assassinate Anton Recidivich, the information you have here is false. You see, I’ve seen it before. When, you might ask? Well, it was when my people created it and planted it in a very dark corner of one of the sectors of the dark web the GRU routinely monitors.” 

"It was at this moment that Boyko felt the trap snap shut on his leg. He felt all the air go out of the morning. Silently, he cursed himself for being led like a lamb to the slaughter."

................................................................................................

"“Who is this man, General?” the Sovereign asked in a tone of voice that made it clear he already knew. “One of your men?”"

"You know, you know! Boyko wanted to yell. It was torture drawing this out. “Corporal Levrov is a sniper, sir.” 

"“And you brought him here to, what, finish off the assassination Aliyev’s people botched?” 

"Boyko’s tongue seemed to have swollen in his mouth. 

"“When Anton Recidivich came here alone in good faith.”"

................................................................................................

"“Corporal Levrov, General Yuri Fyodorovich Boyko is a traitor to his Sovereign and to the Motherland,” the Sovereign intoned. “Do your duty.” 

"Without hesitation, Corporal Levrov raised the SPS and, wisely waiting until the liturgy reached a crescendo, fired one shot into Boyko’s heart, completely obliterating it. 

"Afterward, Levrov did the donkey’s work in dragging Boyko’s body out, using a preplanned route that would keep his death a secret. Two more men arrived to scrub the magnificent tiled floor clean of blood and gore."

................................................................................................

Chapter 47 

"Brenda awoke staring into the eyes of a demon, yellow as citrine. Which was decidedly odd, since she found herself in a beautifully appointed room, full of bright chintz, oversized furniture, paintings of pastoral scenes of the Germany that once was, a Germany that had been obliterated in two world wars. 

"She was reclining on an old-fashioned European chaise longue with scrolled wooden arms and fringed in earth-toned moiré fabric. In fact, almost everything in the room, which was of generous proportions, was earth-toned, except for the vase of fresh violets on the bureau against a side wall. But maybe, she thought, that sepia glow was due to the strong rays of the setting sun streaming through the west-facing windows. Clearly, the snowstorm had exhausted itself while she was unconscious."

................................................................................................

"“You have a particular interest in the Totenkopfverbände?” 

"“My father’s interest, really,” Evan said. 

"“Ah, well, in this I must disappoint you, I’m afraid. Every piece of the Death’s Head paraphernalia has been purchased by a certain party higher up on the mountain.” 

"“And who might he be?” Evan asked. 

"She turned around to face Herr Wenzel, the muzzle of whose modern-day Mauser pistol was pressed against the side of Limas’s head."

................................................................................................

Chapter 48 

"Brady Thompson’s country house—estate was more like it, Butler observed as he arrived—was a stately Colonial a bit south of Wolf Trap with a four-column porte cochere out front that could not have looked more like Tara. The Secretary of Defense had finally decided to take a day or two off, he had learned, upon arriving at his office, before he returned in the new year to skin Butler alive."

"At length, the suit gave the impression of listening to the voice coming through his earwig. “Right,” he said. Addressing Butler, he said, “Go on through, sir. The Secretary will see you in the Blue Room.” 

"The Blue Room, Butler thought. This man has the same delusions of grandeur as the Sovereign.

"He drove on, parked in the front court between a Porsche Panamera and a Ford Expedition. The interior of Thompson’s country house was as grand as the exterior, filled with crystal chandeliers, rosewood side tables, expensive furniture, and, most amusingly to Butler, portraits of several presidents, including Ronald Reagan and Bush Sr. Everything was perfectly symmetrical: two of everything, as if the place had been decorated by Noah."

................................................................................................

"Thompson blanched. “You’re not going to go public with this. I’ll be ruined. Think of my family, for the love of God.” 

"“You should have thought of them before you became a traitor.” 

"“I was already in too deep. I had sunk so much money into Moscow properties. They dazzled me with their plans and designs. It looked like a slam dunk.”"

................................................................................................

"Without another word, Thompson handed over the mobile. 

"“I’m going to have this device cloned. Whenever you use it I’ll be able to hear or see the entire conversation. Every time you’re given a new mobile you’ll contact me via a system I will give you verbally. You’ll memorize it.”"

"“Welcome to the wonderful world of the double agent, Brady.” Butler’s grin widened. “Now how about inviting me to lunch? I’d so love to meet your family.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 49 

"One of her guards left her side for a moment, knelt beside the cage, and released whatever was inside. In a flash, she saw the fox, its thick ruddy tail bobbing as it sprinted across the open space. Moments later, Major’s master took his hand off the dog’s back, and the beast leaped after his prey as if shot from a cannon."

"And Brenda knew that she was looking at her own end."

................................................................................................

"“Or I shall be forced to blow your personal assistant’s brains out.” 

"“Go ahead,” Evan said brightly. “He’s pretty, but he’s lousy at his job. I was going to fire him when we got home, but you can save me the trouble.” 

"“What?” Limas almost yelped. 

"He started so violently that Wenzel, surprised as well, glanced at him. In that instant, Evan threw the SS knife she had plucked from the safe before she’d turned around. It buried itself to the hilt in Wenzel’s side, and the German collapsed, his mouth agape. 

"Limas’s face was white and drawn. “Were you really going to let him shoot me?” 

"“What d’you think?” Stepping forward, Evan pushed Limas away, crouched down beside Wenzel. 

"“Who bought up all the Totenkopfverbände memorabilia?”"

................................................................................................

"“And who—?” 

"“Herr Doktor Cuervos,” Wenzel managed to get out. “Or should I say Señor Doctor Allis Cuervos. Returned from Argentina. But originally from fine Nazi stock. Bavarian through and through. His real name is Allis Riefenstahl.” His livid lips curved upward into a ghastly parody of a smile. “Yes, his grandmother was Leni, the genius filmmaker, favorite of Herr Joseph Goebbels.” He paused to see the effect his reveal had on the two imposters. Evan showed nothing, but Limas raised his brows, either in disbelief or amazement. Apparently choosing to believe it was the latter, Wenzel went on. “Nowadays, the good Herr Doktor lives in a red-brick mansion a quarter mile farther on, then turn left. For all the good it’ll do you.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Time to head up the mountain to the red-brick mansion, to Watzmannhaus. 

"But Wenzel wasn’t finished. A defiant look distorted his face. He puckered his lips and spat at Evan. “Heil Hitler!” he cried. 

"With an animal cry, Limas reached around Evan and pulled out the blade."

................................................................................................

Chapter 50 

" ... She was deposited in the plush library and told by one of her guards, “Sit anywhere you like.” 

"She chose the high-backed chair closest to the hearth, where a fire snapped and crackled. She leaned forward, warming her palms. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... “If I was going to sacrifice you, Peter, I’d let you walk out the front door right now.” 

"Limas peered into the small foyer. “Why? What d’you mean?” 

"“The moment Wenzel told me that Cuervos had bought up all the Death’s Head paraphernalia I knew that bartender Markus was a member of Nemesis. He was displaying a Mauser 98 sniper rifle on the rack behind the bar. He said it had a Death’s Head insignia on it.” 

"“So this prick here was Nemesis as well.” Evan nodded. “And since he knew about Brenda, he had obviously contacted someone at Watzmannhaus. I have little doubt that Cuervos sent a couple of his agents down the mountain and that they’re out front right now.” 

"“Do you think he was telling the truth?” 

"“About Brenda? It’s certainly possible.”"

................................................................................................

"“My name is Dr. Cuervos,” he said in an accent so odd Brenda couldn’t place its origin. “And you are Brenda Myers.” 

"“How do you know that name?” she queried him. 

"“But since we’re destined to be intimates, you must call me Allis, Brenda.”

"“I’m not Brenda Myers, whoever that is.”"

" ... “I’ve seen you before.” 

"“I rather doubt that.” 

"“But I have. A photo of you. As a young man.” She paused, thinking. “And come to that, I’ve seen Major before, also in a photo.”"

"“Yes, they were on a wall in a barn. I took photos of them just before I killed her.” 

"“Killed who?” 

"Those two words seemed forced out of him, which gave Brenda, at least, some small measure of satisfaction. Until, that is, she said, “Voron.” 

"The moment she named her victim she knew it was a mistake from which she might never recover. Allis Cuervos’s face grew red. An odd kind of ugliness invaded it, as if something from another world or another part of his brain had taken hold of him, turning him into a completely different creature altogether. As if he had taken on the aspect—no, even more—the personality of Major. When he opened his mouth Brenda could imagine the fox’s bloody throat caught between his teeth."

................................................................................................

"Limas’s brows knit together in concentration. “I’ve seen this photo before—or at least one like it.” 

"“How is that possible?” Evan asked. 

"“It was one of a handful Aunt Lyudmila showed me when I was in London.” He looked up at Evan, his face ashen. “Jesus Christ, Evan, this is my father.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 51 

"“In the parlance of the hunt, Dr. Selsby is what is known as a beater. He beat the bush in a way certain to drive you here, toward this very confrontation.”"

"“Who are you, really?” 

"“Dr. Allis Cuervos.” 

"Brenda laughed. “Ah, no. You have the Slavic eyes and cheekbones—” 

"“Since it no longer matters, the name we were born with is Arkady Illyich Shokov.”

"Brenda’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait. What? Shokov? As in Lyudmila Shokova?” 

"“Ah, yes. My most likely late unlamented sister. Dr. Allis Cuervos is our operational name, just another part of the legend of a scion of the hidden Fourth Reich out of Argentina.” His head moved again, and she flinched as his lips grazed her ear. “You murdered our daughter, Brenda. And for that you must pay most dearly.” 

"Brenda gasped. “Your daughter? But I don’t know your daughter!” 

"Arkady Shokov hissed. His expression turned bitter. “Voron was her operational name. It was Illyena Shokova you murdered.”"

" ... “If you wanted me dead, why didn’t you instruct Dr. Selsby to do it in the hospital? It was the perfect place.” 

"“Perfect? Ah, no. A public place like that was so far from perfect it was untenable. Your death would have triggered an immediate investigation, one in which Dr. Selsby certainly would have been ensnared and quite possibly caught. I need him in place, undiscovered. One of our ravens that bring us useful information periodically."

................................................................................................

"“It’s becoming increasingly clear that your father was the polar opposite of everything Lyudmila stood for. In that sense, he was Lyudmila’s greatest nemesis. I believe your father’s intractable nature is what motivated Lyudmila to spirit you away to England.” 

"“But what about Illyena? What about my sister? Why did she return to Russia, when Aunt Lyudmila made sure we were safe in England?” 

"“That remains a mystery. I’m guessing only your father knows the answer, and I think Watzmannhaus is where we’ll find him. He’s hidden himself well. It looks like he’s the head of Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"She closed her eyes, which, oddly, only increased her sense of vertigo. After taking several deep breaths she opened her eyes again, trying now to focus on the bigger picture. And then, through her pain and mounting fear she realized that she was hanging upside down by her ankles. ... "

................................................................................................

Chapter 52 

"“One more thing,” Evan said. “Limas claims his real name is Vasily Shokov.” 

"“And you believe this nonsense, Dieter?” 

"“Limas says your real name is also Shokov, sir. Arkady Illyich Shokov. But you’re Bavarian German just like the rest of us, is that not correct, sir?” 

"Silence on the line, just a slow, meditative breathing. Then: “Bring him now.” 

"The call was over."

................................................................................................

"“To answer your question, you won’t die,” Evan said. “As long as you don’t fuck around, as long as you direct us to Watzmannhaus.” 

"“You think Wenzel lied to us?” Limas said. 

"Evan put the car in gear and made a broken U-turn. “I think if we followed Wenzel’s directions we would have had a good chance of running off the mountain.”"

"Evan followed his directions. The farther they climbed the more difficult it was to see. She drove slowly, though thoughts of Brenda made her want to race upward. No point in getting killed in the process of trying to save her—if, in fact, she really was at Watzmannhaus. It seemed to her that virtually everything Wenzel had told them was a lie. 

"“When you see the stone and half-timber house on your left—there! Go another two hundred yards and turn right.” 

"“Where does that turnoff to the left take us?” 

"“The road is very bad there, rutted and extremely dangerous,” Paull rasped. “A vehicle went down the mountainside there the night of the first snowstorm of winter. The weather has been so bad they haven’t had a chance to mend the guardrail.” 

"Evan glanced at Limas in the rearview mirror; Limas nodded. It was as Evan surmised: the lie Wenzel had told them was meant to kill them."

................................................................................................

"“Sorry,” Evan said, keeping to Bavarian German. “That shitstick called me a fucking Berliner. I don’t take that from anyone.” Bavarians hated Berliners, thinking them elitists. Berliners considered Bavarians hicks. 

"The guard’s second of hesitation while she spoke was all the time she needed to throw one of the knives she’d pulled from Wenzel’s safe. ... "

"At length the road, like all roads, came to its inevitable end. Evan saw the structure looming up in front her—the enormous red-brick mansion. It looked more like the castle of a madman, who had, during its construction, used one architect after another. The result was a jumble of styles: Gothic, Roman, Neo-Classical.

"She held Limas in front of her, obscuring her stature, kept her head down, the brim of her cap obscuring her face. 

"The oversized iron-bound oak door opened onto a shadowed interior before Evan was even close enough to knock. Pushing Limas ahead of her, she crossed over the threshold."

................................................................................................

Chapter 53 

"Closing her eyes, she gathered herself, breathing slowly and deeply down to her pubic bone, oxygenating her muscles. She steeled her nerve and then one, two, three swung herself upward, this time grabbing onto her calves, holding herself in that position while she swung back and forth, propelled by her effort. Now she walked her hands, one, then the other, up toward her ankles, finally grasping them. Pausing to catch her breath, feeling her heart pound as if it were about to burst through her chest."

................................................................................................

"“I can see the resemblance,” Evan said. 

"Arkady Shokov sniffed. “I look nothing like my sister. She’s the spitting image of our mother. I, on the other hand, take after our father.”"

"And now Arkady turned his attention to Limas, which was another thorny issue. Evan wished Peter would just keep his mouth shut, but truly, how could he? He had come face-to-face with the father he thought he had lost forever when he was young. What must that be like? Evan wondered. How would she feel if her own father suddenly surfaced, came back into her life? As a monster? An impossible question to answer, of course."

................................................................................................

"“Go on, Evan. What possible reason could I have to spare this espion’s life?” 

"“Her name,” Evan said. “Brenda is powerful. A name out of Arthurian mythology. Brenna le Fay came before Morgan le Fay, the accomplished sorceress—a match even for Merlin, so it has been written.” 

"“And why should that mean anything to me?” 

"“The leader of the Third Reich was bewitched by the legends of the ancient Germans, the Celts, who crossed over into the British Isles many times. He believed in magic, Arkady, and so do you. Brenda or Brenna, is the Celtic name for ‘raven.’ A great misfortune will befall you if you kill Brenda.”"

................................................................................................

Here author propagates a falsehood rooted in racist colonialism, by borrowing concepts, words, images from other cultures, twisting them out of shape and context, and pretending that they have connections with - or that they belong to - Germany. 

"“Actually, I’m doing you a favor,” Evan said. And when Arkady laughed, a bark not unlike the animal’s bark, Evan went on: “You must follow the Uthark runic order, Arkady.” When Arkady made no comment, Evan said, “It was posited in the 1930s—a theory Hitler picked up on and subscribed to—that the Uthark runic order, a modern interpretation of the ancient Futhark alphabet—creates cyphers, but I’m betting you knew that already.” 

"“What has this to do with—?” 

"“Everything, Arkady. The Dark Mother, the bringer of necessary but painful change. She’s known in India as Kali, Malka-ha-Shadim in proto-Jewish culture, and Maha-Kali in Indo-Germanic tradition. ... "

Whether Kaalie (usually spelt Kali), or Mahaakalie (usually spelt Mahakali or Maha Kali), the Deities are of India and have nothing whatsoever to do with Germany, and never did. 

There's no "Indo-Germanic tradition" and never was. 

Germany was fascinated with India after England was, and before the racist policy by Macaulay, of destroying India by false propaganda, was put in place. 

Nazis borrowed some words, concepts and symbols - including occult powerful symbols of Swastika - from India, and her ancient language, Sanskrit, but gave them false meanings that had never existed in India. 

This misuse destroyed their regime. 

" ... The cypher in the Uthark runic order, however, reveals that her name is Mórrigan, later corrupted to Morgan. Brenna, the Raven, taught Morgan le Fay all she knew of magic.” She nodded her head toward Brenda. “You also might remember the story of Merlin hanging Brenna le Fay upside down for defying him. An hour after that, King Arthur Pendragon, the man Merlin was sworn to protect, was killed.”"

................................................................................................

" ... In her mind’s eye was the photo of the young Arkady Shokov in this very area. She heard again Limas telling her what Lyudmila had said: that his father had been stationed in Parechgadem, the old form of Berchtesgaden. ... "

"There was to be no answer to that question. At that moment, the bomb Evan had rigged under the dashboard of the BMW, made with the three packs of C-4 she had taken from Wenzel’s safe, exploded, shaking Watzmannhaus’s stone walls as it obliterated the BMW and the ones on either side. As for the third, it was rocked on its heavy-duty shocks, its windows blasted out, its alarm shrieking, and, not more than seventy seconds later, it was engulfed by fire."

................................................................................................

Chapter 54 

"Evan didn’t bother answering her. She was too busy catching Limas before he fell on his face. 

"“Peter,” she said. “Peter . . .” 

"“Call me Vasily, Evan.” His upper lip was peeled back in agony, revealing gums running with blood. “I was Gorgonov’s errand boy. My father was right about that.” He tried to give Evan a smile, nearly made it. “But I was never meant to kill you. Gorgonov wanted me to be the new Lyudmila for you. He wanted me to become your friend—and I did, Evan, didn’t I?”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 55 

"Major bounded in first, took one look at all the blood running over Limas, and fixed his lambent gaze on Evan. He launched himself at Evan, fast as an indrawn breath. Evan snatched up one of the shattered chair’s legs. She was holding it perpendicular to her chest when Major landed on her. The leg acted like a stake through the heart of a vampire, piercing all the way through the enormous animal’s body. Still his huge claws tried to rake Evan, his bared teeth snapped again and again, trying to take off a chunk of her face. She might have bisected his heart but it beat on, black as his fur. Black as his soul. 

"He was fighting for his life when he had no life. But he was a beast and didn’t know that. All he knew was that his prey had hurt him and he had to kill. ... "

"Arkady was in the room by this time, and he hurled himself at Evan, teeth bared, knife blade point first. Waiting until the last instant, Evan heaved the canine corpse up and away, so that it took the stab of Arkady’s knife.

"Evan took advantage of Arkady being off balance and slammed him nose first against the big black dog’s spine. Then she had Arkady in her grip, because the fight with Major, the precipice of death so close, had energized her, the razor’s edge between life and death never more vivid and close. She drew the knife out of the beast and held the blade, runneled with blood and gore, against Arkady’s throat."

................................................................................................

"“Clever. As clever as you killing Dieter and wearing his clothes.” He shook his head. “But all your vaunted cleverness won’t do you any good, Evan. Where will you go? We own the whole mountain and everyone on it. Our people are everywhere, armed to the teeth. No one will lift a finger to help you.”"

................................................................................................

"The three of them moved out. In the corridor, just past the threshold, Brenda grabbed the semi-automatic out of one of the guards’ hands. This was Evan’s first clue that she had been playing possum, that her powers of recovery were greater than any of them gave her credit for."

"They had almost reached the corridor’s end when Evan stopped them. “Right-hand door.” 

"“It’s a guest room,” Arkady told her. “There’s nothing in there. It’s a dead end unless you’re considering climbing out the window, in which case you’ll be shot the moment you fling one leg out.” 

"“Open the door,” Evan ordered. “Now!”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 56  

"They descended in silence, Evan keeping an eagle eye on Arkady, Brenda on the lookout for anyone clever enough to have worked out where they had gone. They kept going down, farther than the ground floor of Watzmannhaus, lower even than its basement. And still the staircase wound down into what seemed the bowels of the mountain. 

"“This is how you helped Lyudmila escape!” Arkady stopped, turned back to Evan. “You sonuvabitch. The two of you vanished right in front of our eyes, and this is how you did it.” 

"Evan poked him hard in the small of the back. “Keep going, Arkady.”"

................................................................................................

"Evan said nothing. Peter Limas had never lied to her; it was Lyudmila who had lied to Peter, turning the real events on their head, saying she had infiltrated this place, rescued Evan. In fact, it was the other way around: Evan had rescued Lyudmila. She was hit so hard with this revelation that she stumbled, and Arkady laughed, believing that her strength was waning. For a moment, Evan lost track of where she was—or, more accurately, when she was. In a flash she was beside Lyudmila again, as Lyudmila led her through the tunnels. And with this image—so strong Evan could smell their sweat, hear the drip of water through the mineral—the entire episode came flooding back to her, and she remembered everything. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage, she heard the blood roaring through her ears. For an instant the world turned upside down. Then, just as abruptly, it was returned to her, like an offering or a gift. 

"“And yet you knew about this secret,” Arkady was saying, “about the way into the salt mines. How? How did you know?”

"Of course she now knew: it was Lyudmila who had guided her, Lyudmila her Virgil, holding her metaphorical lamp high through the darkness. Lyudmila who had meticulously done her research, who had told her that the Nazis, über-practical, not to say paranoid, had built escape tunnels into all their houses on this mountain, using the salt mines, so that if they were attacked by Allied bombing raids, they could hide there, safe within the mountain, and, if the worst came to the worst, they could disperse through those tunnels, escaping the invading enemy."

But allies were not likely to invade Bavaria and leave Austria alone, were they? 

................................................................................................

"“You fool! You don’t understand anything, so now we will spell it out for you, give you the ABC’s as if we were in kindergarten. Nemesis is financed by a cabal of American billionaires, men of an ultra-conservative nature.” 

"Evan was rocked to her core. Could it be true? It certainly was plausible. Also horrifying. Treason at the very heart of America. “Are you telling me that Russia isn’t involved?”

"Arkady threw her a pitying look. “Of course they’re involved. But, by God, they aren’t financing us. How could they? The RNU has hardly enough money to hold itself together, and as for the GRU, General Boyko is as abstemious as Scrooge. 

"“No, it’s the America for Americans, the robber baron billionaires that fund us. They are out to emulate the original robber barons like John Jacob Astor, Cornelius Vanderbilt, John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Jay Gould, J. P. Morgan. The men who controlled land speculation, the railroads, shipping, lumber and tobacco, financial institutions, oil, coal.

"“Coal!” Arkady laughed so hard tears stood out in the corners of his eyes. “Can you believe it? Coal has been dead and buried for decades. Even the Sovereign knows that.” He shook his head. “But not for these American billionaires.”

"“And the goal of Nemesis?” Evan wanted to keep Arkady talking, telling her more about what she needed to know regarding Nemesis. “Besides thrusting America back into the Middle Ages, I mean.” 

"“What a magnificent goal!” Arkady crowed. “But not all the way back to the Middle Ages, Evan, no, no. Just back to the 1930s. And just like then these modern-day robber barons wish to maximize their profits. To do this, they are manipulating the American political system in order to shield their corporations from federal and state regulations, exempt them from taxes. So they funnel tens of millions of dollars into the campaigns of candidates they control. Spend hundreds of millions to buy up local and regional media—newspapers, radio, television stations—and stock them with personnel to whom they dictate their agenda. And a dull-witted, poor, and poorly educated slice of the country, easily led and manipulated, eats up what they’re selling—the resurgence of white America.

"“And, of course, that’s not all. They’re being aided wittingly or unwittingly by evangelical Christians, as fanatic in their own way as the Muslim jihadists.” The sardonic laughter ramped up. “Such fools! You see what slaves religion makes of people?

"“Ultra-conservative billionaires, powerful evangelicals. They’ve had enough of liberal America. They’re dedicated to a country led by a charismatic tyrant they can control. And we have been in the midst of it.”"

................................................................................................

"The mineral odors became more and more intense along with a mounting chill and the unmistakable clamminess of the deepest days of winter. Occasionally, they passed thick wooden trestles nailed across pillars that helped hold up the tunnels. 

"“These must have made good hiding places in the end times of the war,” Brenda said.

"Evan nodded. “For the Nazis and for the resistance. On their way out, German sappers left booby traps to slow down the Allied infiltration.”"

................................................................................................

"He lifted a forefinger. “Oh, we know what you’re thinking, but no one at DOD knew who we really were. Our legend was lock-tight, unassailable.” He shrugged. “In any event, we were so looking forward to the interrogation. We had already been witness to the kinds of atrocities DOD perpetrated in their black sites—and this place, the Raven’s Nest—was the black site to end all black sites. Even most people inside DOD itself had no idea of its existence, let alone what went on there in the name of American world supremacy.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 57  

"Evan hurried on, swinging the flashlight’s powerful beam from side to side. She did not go full tilt the way Arkady and his desperate pursuer had; she was on the lookout for trip wire and pressure-sensitive plates wired to buried bombs. Plenty had been cleaned out since the end of the war, but others remained in the abandoned sections of the mines. There were good reasons to keep miners and tourists out of these areas: detonations had been known to cause massive cave-ins and tragic loss of life. 

"But a growing concern for Brenda urged her forward, and if it wasn’t for the beam of light she would have missed the trip wire, a shimmering thread of death. The beam moved beyond the trip wire but she saw no sign of footprints on the ground."

................................................................................................

"Evan tossed Arkady away as if he were a rag doll. She was bleeding in several places, not the least of which was the back of her head, which hurt like hell. Nevertheless, she spent the next twenty minutes trying to free Brenda from her tomb, at the end of which time her nails were ragged, her fingers bleeding. There was too much on Brenda; she would need a bulldozer to free her. So Evan buried her carefully and fully, and tried not to think of what she had done to Vasily Shokov."

................................................................................................

"She missed Vasily, the name by which she chose to think of him now. His true name. What a strange life he must have lived, lied to about his father, moving from one country to another, from one identity to another, to another. How could he ever know who he really was? And that was the problem, Evan realized. If you don’t know who you are it’s impossible to form an allegiance, and for Vasily his only possible allegiance was to his beloved Aunt Lyudmila. Why hadn’t Lyudmila told him the truth? Perhaps, with what she knew had become of her brother, Lyudmila believed Vasily wouldn’t be safe if he knew the truth about his father, nor have any chance at all for a normal life. 

"Evan turned off the flashlight and rested then. She felt as close to death as she ever had.

"At some point, she heard voices, sharply raised, calling to one another in Bavarian-accented German, and knew Die Raben were in the mines, searching for their leader and for her. She listened to them for some time with no thought of changing position in the slightest, and eventually they moved away, farther and farther, until their voices were lost in the echoes of the past. 

"The darkness closed in. Apart from her slow breathing and her steadfast heartbeat, silence."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"SUMATRA 

"FEBRUARY

" ... “You once told me those were the happiest weeks of your life.” 

"“I did?” Lyudmila nodded. 

"Tears came to Evan’s eyes. “Well, I suppose they were. London, Paris, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and then all the way down here to Sumatra.”"

................................................................................................

"“Everyone is hoping you’re dead.” Evan very much hoped that Lyudmila would tell her how she managed the trick of vanishing so completely even the SVR and GRU couldn’t find her. In time, she had faith she would."

................................................................................................

"“But my sister . . .” 

"Evan couldn’t find it in herself to finish, so Lyudmila did it for her. 

"“Your sister was a sleeper agent.” 

"Evan felt the earth beneath her feet drop out from under her; the world tilted on end. Nothing made sense anymore. “I don’t . . . ​I can’t fathom how that’s possible.” 

"“That’s what we’re going to find out.”"

................................................................................................

"“Revenge has become our way of life,” Lyudmila whispered. “Now we enter the darkness.”"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Contents 

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Welcome Page 

By Eric Van Lustbader 

Copyright 

Dedication 

Prologue 

Part One: Two Ravens 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 

Part Two: The First Tribe 

Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 

Part Three: Nemesis 

Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 

Epilogue

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................................................................................................

................................................................................................

REVIEW 

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................................................................................................

Prologue

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................................................................................................

" ... Adjacent was the cinema, which screened the latest Hollywood films three nights a week. Attendance was mandatory; outwardly, no one complained, but privately Sammy felt only contempt for Hollywood’s blatant pandering to the Chinese market."

Since when does Hollywood cater, much less pander, to anything but US, much less China - or Chinese? 

................................................................................................

" ... “As of today I’m retiring both APT 28 and Fancy Bear.” It never occurred to him that the idea was Gorgonov’s; in his mind, it was entirely his."

................................................................................................

" ... “As of now, we’re starting a new phase of our cyber-warfare against the United States. We began our initiative to obscure the truth, to present a confusing array of alternate truths that would appeal to fringe groups. People believe what suits their prejudices best. We have achieved that goal. But that was only phase one. I want everything purged as if it had never existed. Give me an update on the new generation of bots.”

" ... “They’re to be programmed to create several million new IP addresses from which we will rotate our outgoing dezinfortmatsiya.”"

"“And then we’re going to use the new netbot—let’s call it Soul Searcher—to target Benjamin Butler,” General Boyko said. “Never heard of him, right? Neither has ninety-nine percent of the GRU and the FSB. Nevertheless, he runs the blackest of black shops for the American DOD—very smart, very skilled. Being Jewish, he’s also vulnerable. Keeping in mind the motto of the sheep we’re targeting, ‘Stupidity Is Power,’ we’ll tar Butler with fascist and socialist tags because our targets don’t know the difference. We’ll dox him as a man of loose morals, a security risk, a closet homosexual, and everything else in our malicious intent arsenal.” Doxing was an internet-based term, a method of broadcasting toxic private and/or fake information about a person through social engineering. 

"“And why are we targeting this Benjamin Butler? So he’s a Jew, but is he a Zionist?” 

"“Not as far as I know, but perhaps we’ll make him one of those scum as well!” Boyko said jovially. “We’ll create a false narrative, turn it into a conspiracy theory; our targets love nothing better than a conspiracy theory—they cleave to those like remoras to a shark.” Boyko sat back, hands locked behind his head. He was going directly against Gorgonov’s wishes, which was also the point. “However, Sammy, the real reason we’re targeting him is that he’s a good friend of Evan Ryder.” Gorgonov’s plan was pitiable. Boyko wanted Evan Ryder dead. Period. Dead stop. “He’s the bait we’re going to use to catch Ryder and kill her.”"

Isn't that precisely everything employed by anti-India brigade, increasingly post genocide of nonmuslims and their enforced exodus from Kashmir caused via terrorists infiltration from across the border and LOC, a decade before the new millennium? 

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December 04, 2022 - December 04, 2022. 

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Part One: Two Ravens 

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 1

" ... As she made her way through the morning throngs on their way to jobs at various self-important bureaus, she was reminded all over again that DC was like Narcissus staring into a mirror, admiring his reflection instead of taking care of the difficult business of governing."

" ... Now Butler was a director, and Evan’s boss. A dyed-in-the-wool field agent, she was fine with that. Butler was one of the only two people alive whom Evan trusted; the handful of others were all dead."

" ... he should have been feared by everyone in the CI community. The reason he wasn’t was simple: unlike any other of his colleagues, Butler trained and deployed a good number of female field agents, whereas other clandestine agencies deployed none. He was alone in understanding, as his Russian counterparts did, that females could extract intel more often than male agents, and more of it to boot. Females were considered circumspect, and could play off men’s weakness for sex, love, and affection, which, most often, considering their profession, they failed to get from their wives—if they had wives, or ex-wives."

Others didn't do so, why? Misogyny of abrahmics thats rampantly prevalent in US, presumably? 

................................................................................................

"Butler, having moved from his original, inadequate quarters near the NSA, was now installed on the eighth floor of a massive white-brick residential building whose façade was slightly curved to accommodate a semi-circular drive with a porte cochere, which allowed its tenants to delude themselves into believing they were living in a Southern mansion.

" ... she showed credentials identifying her as Louise Steadman, Consultant. What she consulted on wasn’t enumerated and wasn’t queried. She asked for Paul Roswell ... "

"“Paul Roswell” had had the entire eighth floor remade into a vast complex of rooms. ... "

" ... She glanced at the window glass: bulletproof, spidery with anti-eavesdropping networks. Even though this location was well-hidden, Evan saw that he was taking no chances. She approved; but then she pretty much approved of everything Butler did."

................................................................................................

" ... “Like the new digs. Do we have an actual name yet?” 

"“Just the alphanumeric one, M171473-HG,” he said. 

"“So still MI7.” A joke of sorts. A play on the British MI6."

"Butler held the sheet faceup so she could see it. 

"“You see? No official stamps. No circulation sign-offs. This is strictly ours. One hundred percent.” His forefinger ran down the list. “Six names, four agents who disappeared over the last ten months, one who came back in very bad shape, and the sixth is completely unknown to us.” 

"“Where did you get these names?” 

"“The agent who returned had the original list on him. It’s been scrutinized by forensics. They found nothing, not even a partial fingerprint.”

"“Not even our agent’s?” 

"“That’s right.” 

"“So he didn’t compile it. He never even saw it.” 

"Butler nodded. “It’s a message, a taunt. Just like the agent’s return. That’s my belief, anyway.” He produced photos—grainy headshots from what appeared to be surveillance operations—to go with the names. “Three are ours, two MI6.”"

" ... so far as I can make out, the MI6 agents were looking for the same thing ours were—a person, or organization, known only as Nemesis.” 

"“What has Nemesis done to deserve all this scrutiny?” 

"“It controls an enormous network of Twitter bots that spew out the most egregious racial and gender epithets aimed at Democrats, women, Hispanics, immigrants, Muslims, and Jews.” 

"“Surely you have IT people who can—” 

"“The Nemesis net is like the Hydra. Cut off a cluster of ISPs and seven others take their place. I mean, we don’t even know whether Nemesis is a single person, a cadre, or a worldwide cabal. But because of our recent failures I determined that we’ve been going after Nemesis from the wrong direction. Hence the deployments of field agents.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “Where?” she said softly. “Where were they found?” 

"“You’ll love this. It’s why I sent for you.” He took back the photos. “The Caucasus Mountains, the ancient dividing line between Europe and Asia. Georgia. To be exact, inside a national park with the longest name in the world: Racha-Lechkhumi-Kvemo Svaneti Planned National Park.” He gave Evan a hard stare. “The Russian Federation is virtually your backyard.”"

" ... “The two names below our people are the MI6 agents.” 

"Dropping her eyes, Evan looked at the list. “Have they been found?” 

"“Not as of today. No word from them. Nothing.” 

"“And the sixth name?” She stared past the page to Butler’s expression. “Charles Isaacs?” 

"“As I said, there’s no info on him. None at all. He’s a blank slate, a tabula rasa.” His gaze turned searching. “Charles Isaacs is a legend. A manufactured identity. Must be. He’s a complete enigma.” He put the list aside. “One thing I have been able to determine absolutely is he’s not one of ours. And I’ve checked with our cousins across the pond. As I said, we’re not so friendly these days, but I have a few personal friends, and we still trust one another. He’s not one of theirs, either. And, of course, they’re intensely interested as to what happened to their two MIA agents.” 

"“Isaacs belongs to an agency that Nemesis is out to eliminate,” Evan said. “Which could mean Isaacs is an ally of ours.” 

"“Possibly, but he could also be Russian, Interpol, or anything else, for that matter.” Butler was looking more and more troubled. “As yet, we don’t know Nemesis’s goal, which is why we need to be extremely vigilant.”"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 2 

" ... In contrast with the institutional exterior, the repurposed interior had the feel of a five-star hotel. 

"The Toad was waiting for them in the library and from the get-go the optics were wrong. ... "

................................................................................................

"Patrick Wilson watched them approach with glittering eyes. It was only when Evan and her companion neared the Toad that the illusion of normality was shattered. Wilson’s eyes, once the same rich hue as his trousers, were now almost colorless. They reflected the light, making them appear depthless. And then there was his complexion, which was as pale and bloodless as moonlight, and almost as insubstantial."

"He hadn’t said a word to Brenda, hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t so much as acknowledged that she was even in the room with them."

"“I prefer your real name,” Evan said. 

"With that, the Toad’s demeanor brightened, he bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. This was a mistake; they looked like bits of burnt toast. They reminded Evan of photos she’d seen of prisoners released from Dachau after World War II."

" ... They looked loose, ready to fall out, as if he were ninety-five years old."

" ... the image of a red-brick monstrosity rose up in her mind, clear as if she had been there yesterday. She could almost hear the ravens shriek. Then her eyes refocused, and she saw Wilson peering at her with a curious, almost avid expression."

"“The last place you were—the last place you can remember—was it in the country, a city, what?” 

"“And ravens,” the Toad said. “Don’t forget those fucking ravens.” A muscle in one cheek began to spasm. “Where’s that place, Evan? I don’t remember.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 3 

"“Ah, Mr. Secretary, I hoped I’d find you here,” Riley Rivers said. 

"“You’re in big trouble, meeting me like this,” Brady Thompson said, waving away one of the security suits. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

"Thompson was Secretary of Defense. Unlike with other presidents, this POTUS used Thompson, rather than the CI heads, as his sole advisor on intelligence matters. He alone had a direct pipeline to the president. He listened to others, skimmed their daily reports, but acted only on Thompson’s say-so. 

"“I’m the newest member of our snug little cadre here in America. I have a control back in Moscow same as you.”"

"“Talking directly to me is way above your pay grade.” His lips barely moved, and he hadn’t so much as glanced at Rivers since the other had sat down beside him. “Go,” he said. “Now.”"

................................................................................................

"“Maybe you don’t have the stomach to protect POTUS from these outlandish lies.” Thompson’s voice was like the point of a knife. 

"Derry froze. “What the hell does that mean?” 

"“It means that if you’re going to be POTUS’s champion you’ve got to find another way.”"

"“You’ll create a separate office of . . . ​well, you know . . .” he leaned forward, said in a whisper, “counter-propaganda.” 

"Derry thought for a moment. “Are you involved?” 

"“Not at all,” Thompson said. “We never had this conversation.” He cocked his head. “How’s your wife, by the way?”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 4 

"Brenda looked from the Toad to Evan. “What ravens?” 

"“What ravens, she says?” Pat Wilson’s smile was as crooked as his teeth. It was the first time he’d acknowledged Brenda’s existence. He still hadn’t looked at her though. He blinked; it was as if she were nothing more than a speck, an irritant caught in the corner of his eye. Then, all at once, he lunged toward her. As she recoiled, Evan left her seat, caught Wilson’s clawed hands before he could reach her. 

"As Evan gently but firmly pressed him back into his chair, Wilson said in a venomous voice: “The ravens that picked me apart. That’s what ravens.”"

"“What do the ravens mean to you?” Evan said, trying to shift the conversation away from herself. Brenda looked lost, but she couldn’t help that. 

"“Death,” Wilson said. “And another life.”"

................................................................................................

"“I am better. Better than.” The Toad, staring fixedly at Evan, spoke without conviction. “And, no, I’m quite content here.” 

"“Why?” Evan said. “How can you be content here?”"

"“They pecked at my brain,” Wilson said, his voice suddenly silky, drifting as if on a tide of his own imagination. “As they will at yours.”"

" ... With what appeared a supreme effort his eyes focused on Evan in a moment—possibly the last moment—of lucidity. “You’ll fail, Evan. This time you’ll fail. And if you don’t stop, your brain will get eaten too.” A gout of blood erupted from his mouth.

"Then hands were peeling Evan away as a coven of doctors, nurses, and strong-armed orderlies transferred Pat Wilson to a gurney, strapped him down, and as quickly as possible rushed him out of the library."

................................................................................................

"When the white Nissan Altima disintegrated, it did so in a hundredth of a second. Leaving her question blown away in the shock wave. The explosion was so powerful it shattered all the glass on the front of the former St. Agnes’s façade. As for the Tahoe, the blast crumpled the entire driver’s side as it lifted the SUV off its tires, flipped it over, and slammed it down onto the top of the green Jaguar parked in the space on the passenger’s side."

................................................................................................

Chapter 5 

"Riley Rivers should have been in seventh heaven. Ever since starting his blog when he was nineteen he had dreamed of speaking to America from a national platform. But even his feverish imagination fell short of being put in charge of anything called the Office of Official Communications. What made it all the more delicious was that the propaganda emanated from various branches of the Russian secret service. His job now was to manipulate the material from those sources into salaciously tasty bits and disseminate it in the fastest way possible to the widest audience possible."

"What a world, Rivers mused now, as he stood in his new offices—a large corner suite on the third floor of a modern office building with a smart granite entrance on K Street, NW, near Nineteenth, five blocks from the White House and, coincidentally, about the same distance from MI7’s new offices. 

"Hourly, “news” items flooded in at an even faster rate than they had before. Tweets targeting Black Lives Matter, Muslims, Jews. Items supporting what the Russians had cleverly code-named the alt-right. And today something new: the first of a number of items he would receive specifically targeting Benjamin Butler—some of the nastiest innuendoes he could recall seeing."

................................................................................................

" ... Benjamin Butler is a Jew, yes!, his mother was a Jew!, and he is biased toward Jews even—especially—when it isn’t warranted. There was more—much more—some of it disgusted even Rivers. 

"This little piece of red bait, accompanied by a photo, as many of his items were, would be disseminated as only Rivers could, as an internet item. The photo was of Butler and a whole bunch of women and men, clearly prostitutes and escorts. It had been cooked up by a program known as GAN, generative adversarial network, that created what was coming to be known as “deep fakes,” a combination of “deep learning” and “fake news.” The process took advantage of a Google open-source program called TensorFlow, an astonishing machine learning software, to insert the head of anyone you wanted into a compromising photo or short video. The original shots, of Butler and the random unsavory folk he was apparently with, had of course been taken at different times in different places, but GAN had deftly made it seem that they were together.

"Not that Rivers knew much about either GAN or TensorFlow, but through Reddit he had winkled out a kid who did, a genius and a nasty piece of work who lived for making trouble. When he found him, the kid was using GAN to make fun of POTUS. ... He still didn’t know how the kid did it. Then again, he really didn’t care. ... Money talks, Rivers thought. Nobody walks.

"Using both his new network and his old Reddit network, Rivers served up the item on Butler to a select cadre of ultra-left wing and white supremacist sites, and the dezinformatsiya was seen by millions around the world within a matter of hours. 

"Rivers made copies of the whole thing."

................................................................................................

"He looked down at the street from his office window, at the pedestrians striding by, completely oblivious to how the world really worked. These denizens of the capital of the United States thought they knew, were convinced that they were a part of the machine. So self-deluded, Rivers thought with utter contempt. 

"Rivers’s contempt for America and his love affair with Russia began more or less simultaneously. He’d spent his senior year abroad in London, where he fell in with a drinking crowd down from Oxford. At first, these young gentlemen treated him like a mascot. If he hadn’t been American he doubted whether they would have tolerated him at all; the class system in England was still as firmly in place as it ever had been. Rivers—a born snob—found this as fascinating as it was attractive. His acid wit, which had alienated Americans left and right, combined with his encyclopedic knowledge of the American political system so ingratiated him with the rakish English gentlemen that before long he was raised into the lofty heights of being “one of them.” For once, he belonged somewhere.

................................................................................................

"It was at an all-night drunkathon that conversation turned to the subjects of Socialism, disdain for the English upper crust, and experimental dabbling in the Russian way of life. This should have repulsed Rivers, but in fact it had the opposite effect. The disgust these gentlemen had for men’s clubs, inherited stone manors in Sussex or Cheshire, regimental ties, and the strait-laced hale-fellow-well-met conventions of their parents chimed perfectly with the antipathy Rivers felt for those back home who had scorned him for his extreme politics, turned their backs on his abrasive nature, belittled him as a misfit behind his back. He wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t tall, he wasn’t slim—that’s all anyone back home cared about. Whereas these gentlemen were interested in the mind: opinions, debates, thoughtful analyses. Rivers’s meat and potatoes, so to speak.

"A week or two after the drunkathon, one of the gentlemen introduced him to Yuri. At least, that’s what he said his name was. The door had opened into a new world—a world in which Rivers could see his future, his importance. Yuri praised his work on Reddit, assured him that the role he was offering would “make even more of a difference,” would give real meaning to Rivers’s life. 

................................................................................................

"And so it had come to pass, slowly but surely. The Russians were fond of playing the long game. As Yuri had told him on his departure from London, “My good and loyal friend, years will pass and it will seem to you that nothing is happening, but I can assure you that behind the scenes wheels are constantly in motion, and you are a major part of that.” He put a hand on Rivers’s shoulder. “Patience is everything, my good and loyal friend. Patience and initiative.”"

Very reminiscent of the teleseries The Americans. 

" ... Yuri loved Rivers’s Reddit political site, impressed with how many members it had amassed. He communed with his superiors and they suggested one or two tweaks that impressed Rivers and which, when he returned to DC and graduated, he implemented. And so, slowly but surely, as Yuri had promised, his star began to rise above the jabbering mass of the blogosphere. Whether it was because his point of view began to resonate with a changing zeitgeist or because his posts were being favorited and repeated by the online army directed by his Russian friends was impossible to say. Most likely, he figured, it was a combination of both."

" ... Yuri. His good and loyal friend. Now gone and, his missions completed, forgotten. Except by Rivers himself, who remembered him with a fondness he had never felt for anyone else."

................................................................................................

"“As I said, Yana Bardina was a precious object to some powerful men and this made her invisible,” Isobel continued, “but that was deliberate, her invisibility made her perfect.” 

"Suddenly, Rivers was listening more carefully. Somewhere in the back of his mind a warning bell had gone off. “Perfect for what?” 

"“For passing secrets, Riley. Government secrets to the Russians.” 

"“Are you telling me that Yana Bardina was a Russian spy?” 

"“That’s right,” Isobel said, her smile broadening. “Just like you, Riley.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 6 

"While she waited in Chicago for Bobbi to finish college, Evan searched for a gym that suited her desire and needs. Here her tomboyish childhood served her in good stead. She was introduced to boxing, then Eastern martial arts. She learned how to shoot a variety of handguns, how to throw knives, both of which she loved. But what she found she loved the most was busting skulls—not literally, of course. In the ring, on the mat, in the dojo, winning was everything. She took her anger and despair at her parents’ deaths out on every opponent—mostly male, though the few women she went up against were hardly spared. In her quieter hours she read anything and everything: books on history, religion, politics, philosophy, shamanism. She taught herself seven languages, aided in no small part by her eidetic memory. Also, though she could scarcely have known at the time, she was on the lighter side of the dyslexic spectrum; her mind worked at about ten times the normal human speed. Clearly, these gifts were, in large part, why she never got lost in the vast system of caves under the Black Hills. 

"She had always had a hankering for trouble. It drew her like a magnet, and when the sisters moved to the DC area, while Bobbi was falling in love with a lobbyist and considering how many kids she wanted with him, Evan was finding her way into the clandestine services as an administrative assistant. Had she been a man she would have raced through the hierarchy like an eel through water; she was an astonishingly quick learner; again, her eidetic memory was her best friend. 

"She chose “the hard road,” as Bobbi called it, stoically and patiently enduring ridicule, skepticism, sexism, and finally, resentment all the way up the slippery slope."

................................................................................................

"And so she persevered and, in the end, succeeded, as an intel collator, then a coordinator, where finally she found a superior who, after eighteen months of her slogging away, agreed with her assessment that she was wasted in these desk jobs. After five months—something of a record—at a training facility deep in the Virginia woods, she became a field agent. Then, and not a moment sooner, her various bosses, her instructors claimed they’d never seen her like, certainly never in a female. Each one claimed to have discovered her first. Each one claimed to have encouraged her from day one. Each one was a liar. 

"Nevertheless, and defying all odds, she became well-regarded inside the American intelligence community, then grudgingly in demand. ... "

................................................................................................

"It wasn’t until she was certain Brenda was safely out of the Tahoe that she unbuckled her own seat belt. Strong hands grabbed her as she came loose, maneuvered her out of the vehicle. It was only as they were loading her into a second ambulance that she saw the extent of the devastation. The blast had completely disintegrated the Nissan. And as for the Tahoe, it and the Jaguar had become one twisted abstract sculpture. From some angles it was difficult to determine that they had once been vehicles."

"He bent lower. “Lucky the Tahoe was armored.”"

................................................................................................

"She is being taken through the high, iron gates of what looks like a nineteenth-century insane asylum—a red-brick monstrosity, complete with turreted towers on both ends and a steeply pitched slate roof. Oversized copper gutters and leaders guard the glowering eaves as if the roof needs protection from the inhospitable elements, or perhaps from the two ravens that cling tenaciously to the roof tiles. The architectural style is nightmarish—both Gothic and Victorian, hinting at a number of add-ons over the years. Tiny windows look out over the front lawn with blind eyes, black and forbidding."

" ... Had they been in the same place—the building of red brick? It would seem so, but for the life of her Evan couldn’t remember. 

"This had never happened to her before—an insistent remnant of a memory floating into her consciousness like a bit of a ship sunk at sea. What had happened to her in that damn red-brick building? She thought of Lyudmila. She missed her. It was incredibly rare that she allowed herself to think such a thought, to feel that kind of emotion. But the fact was that in her present situation Lyudmila would have been the one person she could have turned to, the one person who might have helped her find out where the red-brick building was, what it was—and what was going on inside it.

"“I don’t remember,” Wilson had insisted. Remember. Was Evan’s vision of the place, the ravens, a shard of lost memory bobbing to the surface of her consciousness, triggered by Wilson’s ramblings? No answers. The whole incident was maddening. And yet somehow she knew that’s where Wilson had been. In a red-brick building, with ravens."

"“Each trauma is different, you know that. With each one the probability of losing a chunk of yourself rises.”"

"A veil seemed to pass across her vision, giving way to the ghostly image of the monstrous red-brick mansion, the ravens, and what the Toad had said to her at the end: “Whatever was done to me . . . ​You’ve seen them . . .” He meant the ravens. This was turning into a horror story, something totally alien to her. It chilled her to the marrow."

................................................................................................

"“And yet, according to Brenda, he said you saw the ravens.” 

"“He must have been hallucinating.” 

"“He asked you where this place was, where the ravens were, as though you knew it.” 

"“He was not lucid, Benjamin,” Evan said with a sense of foreboding. “Clearly.” 

"“Really,” Butler replied flatly."

................................................................................................

" ... So far as she was aware, only she, Brenda, and Butler knew where they were going, and why. That, by definition, made Butler a driver, though the idea of it seemed inconceivable. This was the essential danger of forming attachments in the clandestine world. Those attachments tended to blind you to reality. That Butler could want either her or Brenda—or both, for that matter—killed did not make sense. That didn’t, however, preclude it being the truth. And until she had some solid proof one way or another, her security-conscious mind prevented her from giving away anything at all. Just another troubling aspect to the situation in which she was now enmeshed."

................................................................................................

Chapter 7 

"Evan opened the file, scanned the first pages on the vetting of Peter Limas. British national, educated in Cambridge, worked for his father in the elder’s steelworks until forming Rubicon Solutions, his own cyber company with proprietary software known as Tether that could identify the flow of ill-gotten gains across international borders. Brought it to the States seven years ago. Unmarried, no children. A success all around. Played golf and tennis. Unattached to either political party. No improper affiliations. That’s all there was to the file. Bland as a slice of white bread. “There’s no such person as Karen Park,” Evan said, as if reading it out from the file. She didn’t know this, but it stood to reason. And she was right."

................................................................................................

Chapter 8 

"She passed the sketch of the woman driver around, but no one had seen anyone who looked like her. She took the elevator up to the first floor, eyeballing her fellow riders, and got out. While interrogating Beacum, it occurred to her that maybe the driver didn’t leave either by foot or by car. Maybe she was still somewhere in the facility, posing as a doctor, nurse, or member of the support staff. Stopping at the nurses’ central station, she showed the face around again. Still nothing. But she did discover that there was a volunteer program in place—more highly vetted than at area hospitals. Still, that would be the soft spot, the easiest place for an outsider to blend in while hiding out until the initial clamor died down."

"In the end, Evan found her in the sixth-floor surgeons’ lounge, adjacent to the OR area. She was dressed in pale-green scrubs, which was clever, cleverer than a volunteer’s outfit. She sat at her leisure on a sofa, legs stretched out, feet on the coffee table, watching a film on her mobile phone. No longer a blonde, she was now wearing a dark Brenda-cut wig that Evan, herself an expert at disguise, could not mistake for the real thing. That proved premeditation: she had meant to stay inside the facility until the coast was clear. A well-thought-out plan, coordinated, masterminded not by her, not by a guard, but by someone with a chess player’s mind. But it was her shoes that gave her completely away; they were expensive pumps, nothing a surgeon would wear to work, let alone in the OR."

................................................................................................

"When she saw Evan approach, she smiled, stood up without saying a word, and went with her willingly, even passively, head slightly bowed, as if in defeat. As Evan took her over the threshold to the corridor, she slammed an elbow into Evan’s throat, whirled, and delivered a vicious blow to her kidneys. Then she took off, galloping down the corridor like a crazed racehorse fleeing a stable fire. She was fleet and nimble, even in those pumps, as if she had practiced running in them."

................................................................................................

" ... How could you have a final accounting of your life when major parts of it had been ripped from you? When the people you loved most in the world were gone? So she kept running and fighting. Running and fighting."

"At length, she looked down, to take a full inventory of the physical toll to her body. And there, around the dead driver’s neck, shining silver, flecked with blood, was a necklace of delicately wrought interlocking rings at the center of which was attached a pair of silver corvids, facing each other, curved beaks melding one into the other. 

"Ravens."

................................................................................................

Chapter 9 

"He was sitting opposite her in a serpent-green fabric alcove at Q by Peter Chang in Bethesda ... "

"They looked out on large round tables for eight or more. Above, an airy space that rose into a kind of atrium, filled with enormous square lanterns. Even though it was fairly early, the place was packed. He picked out faces he knew from the ranks of influencers and tastemakers, Pentagon officials and heads of private security firms, all more important than senators or representatives.

"“Peter Chang used to be the head chef at the Chinese Embassy,” Isobel said, as drinks were set down in front of them, but Rivers was hardly interested."

"“I took you to Yana’s funeral and burial so you could more vividly picture yourself in the same tragic state when your usefulness to the Russians comes to an end.” 

"“But I’ve been most useful to them,” he blurted out stupidly."

................................................................................................

"Taking up the menu but not opening it, she continued: “I say wasted because I could have saved Yana, if only she’d let me. If only she’d agreed to the terms of the bargain I laid out for her. But . . .” Her smile vanished. “‘I’m in too deep,’ she told me. ‘I can’t . . . ​I won’t . . . ​It’s too much. If I go any deeper I’ll be buried.’ And in the end she really was buried, Riley. As you saw with your own eyes. 

"“And so we come to you.” Her gaze pierced the space between them. “I’m particularly interested in the origin of these attacks on Benjamin Butler. I want you to get to the bottom of it. I want to know who’s doing the targeting.”"

................................................................................................

"“First,” she began, “I want to know everything your control gives you on Benjamin Butler. Specifically, I want to know why he’s being targeted. Second, I want to know everything your control gives you the moment you receive it.”"

"Riley wiped the sweat off his face. “And?” 

"The scimitar smile had returned, cutting into his sense of relief. “And nothing. That’s it, Riley. That’s all.”"

................................................................................................

"“In return, I will protect you from any and all depredations and machinations cooked up against you by the Russians. I will extract you from any dangerous situation before it becomes lethal.”"

" ... As she called for the check, her mobile rang. “I myself do not like it, Riley, but it is what it is. Get on board or get run over.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 10 

"“According to her Canadian passport, her identity was Anna Alta,” Evan said into her mobile. “What her real name is, is anyone’s guess.” 

"“We’ll pick up that and her driver’s license when we collect the body,” Butler said, a mosquito buzzing her ear. “Any idea who manufactured the passport?” 

"“It’s good,” Evan said, studying it. “But not that good, so it can’t be Israeli. Theirs are perfect.” She held the passport open, its leaves bent back, checking the stitching. “It’s Russian.” 

"Butler grunted. “Mobile?” 

"“Not that I found,” Evan said, turning Anna Alta’s phone over in her hand. She’d wiped the blood off it, made sure it still worked. She should have reported it to Butler, but she was in a bloody frame of mind and not inclined to disclose much of anything."

................................................................................................

"She disconnected, went into the corridor, and followed Limas out into the parking lot. He was heading toward a Tesla S P85D, a cool quarter of a million bucks even without the special metallic electric-blue paint job, which seemed just about right. Evan hurried to her own borrowed car, fired the ignition just as Limas pulled out."

................................................................................................

"“Jaden and I went fishing.” 

"“Where?” 

"“Alaska.” 

"“From Yemen?” 

"Beacum’s expression turned sour. 

"“You thought we’d never find out.” He tapped a page filled with close typewritten paragraphs. “I’ll admit it took us all this time. I admit someone made a mistake. You were inadequately vetted.” 

"“You people! You hear Middle East and right away you think terrorist! Fuck you! My wife’s family aren’t terrorists. They’re law-abiding citizens.” 

"“You’re right, Beacum, they are.” Butler leaned forward. “Except for Jaden. He’s jihadi.” 

"Beacum looked around, licked his lips. “I want to leave. Now. I want to leave. You have no right.” 

"Butler stood. “It’s you who have no right. Jaden took you to Syria to one of three jihadi training camps. Was it Al Noor? Dayr Az Zawr? Or maybe it was Abu Kamal.” He went around behind his subject as Evan had done. “No matter. The point is you were radicalized. Isn’t that right, Beacum?”"

................................................................................................

"Something seemed to come over Beacum, a certain hardness in his expression, a darkness behind his eyes. “Permission? I don’t need your stinking permission. ... "

"Something odd happened then. Beacum burst into tears. “I told them,” he wailed between sobs. “I told them I wasn’t cut out for this.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 11 

"“Was it really necessary to bring Evan into this? She’s not really one of us, and as you’ve said often enough she never will be.” 

"“Yes. I understand your reservations, but she is the one we need. I’m more sure of that than before. Our target has retaliated close to home now, Brenda, which I hadn’t expected. This was as decisive and direct as the killing of our agents. If the SUV hadn’t been armored you and Evan would likely have been killed. I’ve gone after them and now, not content with ultimately killing all three of my agents, they’ve struck back.” 

"“And we don’t even know who their leader is,” Brenda said bitterly. 

"“No. We know him only as Nemesis,” Butler agreed. “A shadow cast over the world. We know only these things about him: he lives in both the real world and the cyber-world, he’s made probing hacks into at least three major nuclear-generating plants around the country, that we know of, as well as our national power grid, and the NYSE and Nasdaq trading platforms. No one’s talking about it, though, and they won’t. Too scary.”

"“ ... Nemesis is the most dangerous adversary I’ve ever come up against, and I’ve been pitted against the best or, if you prefer, the worst. Nemesis is on an entirely different level. 

"“He’s a clear and present danger about whom we know precious little. But, believe me, if anyone can find and destroy him it’s Evan.”"

................................................................................................

"A premature darkness had fallen over the city like a veil, winter murdering the abbreviated afternoon. Across the Potomac, the lights of DC shone—the spotlit monuments and monolithic buildings, and, above, the winking lights of jet planes gliding through the grayness that passed for night over big cities."

" ... Evan, forearms on the table, did notice: that the silver pin she had briefly observed from a distance at the hospital before Butler had hustled her out of Brenda’s room, was of two facing ravens, the tips of their beaks touching."

................................................................................................

" ... Conjuring up anticipatory scenarios was not only a waste of time, it was counterproductive. Therefore, as he sat in the anteroom of Thompson’s offices, he relaxed, willing his mind to go blank, trusting that in that empty space would form both his tactics and his strategy. He had seen the wretched news item targeting himself. It was trash, but it was out there in the brave new world filled with similar trash. That was where the country was at these days. Sometimes, he regretted ever returning. He might have been far better off staying in Berlin. But his rabbi—the most unconventional rabbi imaginable—had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Besides which, he’d never have been able to run his own intelligence shop in Germany. And taking Zoe to another foreign country, without her mother, was out of the question."

" ... “I was adamantly against your appointment, and I’ll tell you why. First, you’ve spent too much time overseas. Second, you’re a Jew.” 

"“My time overseas was in service to this country, sir,” Butler said automatically to stop himself from commenting on how utterly appalled he was. “And yes, I am half Jewish. So what.”

"“Third, you’re an insolent son of a bitch,” Thompson plowed on like a steamroller. “And, fourth, it seems mighty suspicious to me you hiring female agents. What the fuck is that all about? They your own private harem?”"

So typical an attitude prevalent in US more than one would expect of a supposedly developed nation, one has to remind oneself that not only its a comparatively young society making it primitive, but has a millstone of abrahmic creeds tied around its heads, disabling it from any possible looking up. 

"“Your days are numbered here, Butler. Frankly, I’d prefer it if you packed your bags today and flew back to Berlin. Or even better, Israel. You’d be more comfortable among your kind, I have no doubt.” He shrugged. “Though I know you won’t comply. It may not happen today, tomorrow, or even next week, but rest assured as soon as Congress reconvenes in the new year it will happen. That’s a promise from me to you.” 

"Smug as the president himself, he sat back, hands over his belly, fingers intertwining, basking in the tongue-lashing he had just delivered to someone his inferior in every way he could be inferior. As if he were an uppity plantation slave foolhardy enough to step out of line."

"“Thank you for the update, Mr. Secretary.” Pretended he was smiling at Zoe. “But to be honest you haven’t told me anything my own intelligence network hadn’t already informed me of.”"

" ... “I don’t like your tone, Butler.” 

"“You don’t have to like it, Mr. Secretary. I do my job and I do it better than anyone else.” His smile widened. “You see, my set of balls are brass.”"

" ... He wished it was merely from the rush of adrenaline that had flooded his system the moment Thompson started his abominable harangue, but the truth was that he was frightened. He had not come back from overseas to take this job to be harassed and intimidated. His rabbi had assured him this would not happen. He had had no illusions when he had taken the position. As Evan had pointed out, DC was still a snake pit crawling with the worst poisonous vipers, but he had been guaranteed an endless supply of antivenin."

................................................................................................

"General Ryan Aristides’s office was in one of the inner rings, as befitted his rank and standing. What division he worked for and what it was he did precisely, Butler had no idea. Nor did he feel the need to know. What had, however, been abundantly clear to him when the two of them had been put together was that they both had a fierce and abiding interest in Russia, the Sovereign, and, in particular, the Sovereign’s plans for the continuing infiltration and subversion of the American way of life. 

"It took a full ten minutes from the moment Mitchell drove Butler through the first checkpoint until General Aristides’s adjutant guided him into the inner office. These checkpoints, delays, long walks down corridors confusing as those on an aircraft carrier, were no doubt intended to intimidate the visitor, though they had no effect on Butler other than to increase his impatience."

................................................................................................

"“Well, he’s right about that last part,” Aristides said astutely, “but also you frighten the crap out of him, on any number of levels, including the fact that you operate out of the usual chain of command. You get results, so he hasn’t been able to move against you. Until now.” 

"“He’s going to pressure Willis to order a closed-door Senate Intelligence Committee investigation, which he himself will ride herd on. He’s coming after me and, by extension, you.”"

"“Look, Benjamin, you have to understand. Right now Thompson’s star is in the ascendant. Going up against him is not the smart play.” 

"“For you.” General Aristides stared at Butler as if he was made of granite."

................................................................................................

" ... Just because Brady Thompson was a racist pig did not mean that he would make the mistake of underestimating him. Thompson had given him—and, by extension, General Aristides, his rabbi—a very deliberate shot across the bow. Thank God he didn’t know the identity of Butler’s real rabbi, and he was making damn sure he never would. Now more than ever, it was absolutely vital that Butler’s security be airtight. He had just gone to their own private DEFCON 2, the last preparations to defend against disaster."

................................................................................................

Chapter 12

" ... To Butler’s great surprise, Isobel produced one of her wickedest smiles. “Don’t give the threat another thought. On the inside, that is. On the outside, give Thompson every indication that he’s scared the bejeezus out of you. He’ll like that so much he’ll feel comfortable going forward.”

"“But that’s just what I don’t want.” 

"“Au contraire, darling, that’s just what we do want.” She took Butler’s hand. “I want him distracted while I figure out what to do. Trust me.”"

" ... Her distrust and hatred of Russia never wavered, however, aligning with Butler’s own antipathy. Now she worked for one of those Silicon Valley companies that had amassed more personal data on more people worldwide than the NSA and the DOD combined."

................................................................................................

"“I think my life chose me,” Butler said. 

"“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” 

"“Unlike you. You love your work.” 

"Isobel chuckled. “Come on, Ben. So do you.” 

"“Maybe. But I hate the people I have to report to.” Time to return the subject to the here and now. “Listen, Izzy, Evan Ryder is about to pay you a visit.”"

"“You think a great deal of this woman,” Isobel said. “I’ve heard the stories, but figured, like all such gossip, they were exaggerated.” 

"“Usually, yes,” Butler said in all seriousness. “With Evan they’re all true, and then some.”

"Pulling out her mobile, she punched in Hollis’s number. “Roger. Tonight’s game will be starting an hour earlier.” She nodded as he agreed, then she cut the connection. “Done,” she said to Butler."

................................................................................................

Chapter 13 

"The Bead’s head swiveled toward her like a vulture or an owl. He smiled in the most disarmingly benign manner as he said, “Now, what can I do for you, Brenda?” 

"Then the gun appeared."

................................................................................................

Chapter 14 

"The lone woman looked up when they entered and, smiling, laid down her hand, excused herself, and rose to greet them. She wore a dark-colored Armani power suit, under which was an oyster-colored silk shirt unbuttoned enough to show off her impressive cleavage. An elegantly worked gold choker showed at her throat. An emerald ring graced the third finger of her right hand."

"Evan normally had no desire to play poker, but from the moment she saw that Limas had taken her to a high-stakes poker game she had formulated a plan of getting to Limas’s partner as quickly as possible and, she hoped, with the most impact. She needed to be on Benjamin’s chartered plane to the Caucasus Mountains tomorrow morning."

................................................................................................

"“No worries, Louise,” Peter said. “I’ll stake you to whatever losses you incur.” 

"“Very kind of you, Peter, but it’s entirely possible I won’t be needing it,” Evan said, which caused Hollis to snicker under his breath."

"“Well, Ms. Steadman, what’ll it be? Death by folding or defeat by cards?” 

"Evan, who had appeared to be weighing her options, added money to the pot. “I’m all in.” 

"“Too bad,” Hollis said. “I’m raising you ten.” 

"$55,500. 

"“I win.” Hollis leaned forward, hands ready to scoop up the chips. “I hope you’re good for it, Ms. Steadman.” 

"“One moment.” Evan dug in her pocket. “I’ve forgotten all about this.” She drew out Anna Alta’s pendant, laid it on top of the pile of chips. 

"The pair of ravens seemed to stare up at everyone. Isobel gestured. She could not have made people vanish more quickly had she been a sorceress wielding a magic wand."

................................................................................................

Chapter 15 

"“You killed Beacum,” Brenda said. “Why wouldn’t you kill me too?” 

"“Beacum was damaged goods—in all ways possible. Your people captured him, subjected him to torture until he cracked like a nut. So how could I trust him? Would you?” 

"Brenda opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again. She had no desire to engage this monster as if they were friends chatting over coffee and croissants. 

"“Of course you wouldn’t,” he answered for her. 

"“So what do you want?” He was still staring at her. Had he even blinked? She shifted nervously. “Oh, I see.” 

"“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You misunderstand me. My choice for intimate companionship is . . . ​elsewhere.” When he smiled he showed his teeth, nicotine-stained and pointed. “No, Brenda. But, you’re right about one thing: I do want something from you.”"

................................................................................................

"“You almost killed me.” 

"“Me?” He cocked his head, kept his bad teeth hidden. “Ah, no. I didn’t make the bomb that hurt you.” 

"Brenda shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” 

"“I don’t even know who did.” 

"“Again.” 

"“But I do know who planted it.” He lifted a forefinger. “She’s dead. But I can tell you her real name.”

................................................................................................

"“My name is Charles.” 

"Her expression showed how little this meant to her. “Your operational name, I assume.” 

"“Actually.” He had a smile like a shark: wide, toothy, and more than a little menacing. “Charles Isaacs.” 

"Brenda started as if he’d hit her with a Taser. Her arms unwound, her hands on the tabletop nowhere near her Glock. “You’re on the list.” 

"“What list?” 

"“The Nemesis hit list. Three of our agents are dead. Two MI6 people are MIA. All of them were trying to find out intel on Nemesis. Then there’s you.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your affiliation?” 

"“Interpol,” Charles Isaacs said. “I work out of Munich. Normally.” He spun the pack of cigarettes around and around. “There’s nothing normal about this situation. I’m following the breadcrumbs of anti-Semitism. Jews are being targeted by the Russians and by this unknown group called Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"Charles took this body blow with admirable equanimity. “Beacum was working both sides of the fence. He was a lot cannier—and more treacherous—than he let on, or our previous intel on him indicated.” He put his hands together. “So. I need your help.”"

................................................................................................

"“I’m listening.” 

"“Yes. I believe you are. At last. The girl who set the bomb, who drove the Nissan into the parking lot at St. Agnes—her name is Marina Mevedeva. St. Petersburg born and raised. Given the legend of Canadian citizen Anna Alta. Forced into the service of—” 

"“The SVR.” 

"“Ah, no,” Charles said. “Worse. Far worse.” 

"“What could be worse than the SVR?” 

"“She’s an agent of Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"“I need your help to find the bomb-maker.” 

"“Is that your objective in coming here?” 

"“It is now,” Charles said. “In the field, objectives turn on a dime, according to situations, which are always fluid. 

"“So.” Charles began again. “I must be careful here in DC—and everywhere else, especially so now that I’m on yet another kill list.” He produced a death’s-head grin. “You have contacts I don’t in DC. Plus, you have federal credentials.” He gestured. “Whereas I am a stranger in a strange land. I am asking you to be my Virgil.”"

................................................................................................

"Charles pocketed the dreadful photo. “Listen to me, Brenda. Peter Limas is a Russian spy.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 16 

" ... Only Isobel, Limas, Hollis, and Evan remained. Isobel, breaking her stasis, crossed to the door, shut it behind them. She locked it, then gestured to Limas, who crossed to the sideboard, poured three fingers of bourbon into an Old-Fashioned glass, set it in front of Roger Hollis."

................................................................................................

"Evan turned her gaze on Hollis. “Do you know what a group of ravens is called?” Evan asked. 

"Hollis stared blankly at her. “I can’t say that I do.” 

"“A conspiracy,” Evan told him. “A conspiracy of ravens.” 

"Hollis’s smile was frigid. “Useless knowledge.” 

"“I would say it’s quite useful,” Evan countered. “In this instance.”

"Evan kept her attention on Hollis, but Isobel was always in the periphery of her vision; it was clear who ruled this roost. “And are you also part of this conspiracy of ravens?” 

"“I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” Hollis said in a tone that sent a chill through the room. 

"Evan took the silver pendant from Isobel’s hand. “The person who this belonged to is dead.”

"“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hollis said dryly. 

"“I didn’t know her.” 

"“Then what’s this all about?” 

"“I want to know if you knew her.” 

"“Me?” Hollis barked out a laugh. “Why on earth—?” 

"“I want to find out everything I can about this group she belonged to.” 

"Hollis shrugged. “Then I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.”

"“I looked in her mouth,” Evan said. “The dental work was definitely Russian.” 

"“All right. She was Russian. So what?” 

"This response was interesting to Evan in and of itself. Any true civilian would have said “What the hell were you doing looking in her mouth?” or something along those lines. Hollis hadn’t batted an eye. This confirmed her initial sense that Hollis was far more than he appeared to be. The response told her two other things: first, Hollis knew who Anna Alta was, and second, he was surprised by the Russian angle. Had he perhaps known her as a member of Nemesis?

"“Is Nemesis a Russian SVR initiative?” Evan said, taking a stab in the dark. 

"“How the hell should I know?” Hollis snapped. “What’s Nemesis?” 

"Evan dangled the pendant at the end of its chain. “I was sure you could tell me, seeing as how you seem to be a part of the conspiracy of ravens.” She motioned for Peter to lay out Hollis’s jacket so the raven pin was visible, then turned to Hollis. “What’s your explanation?” 

"Hollis spread his hands. “I saw the pin in a jewelry store window. I liked it. I bought it. End of story.” 

"Evan had to give him marks for staying cool under pressure. He was a good improviser. Still: “You don’t expect me to believe that.”"

................................................................................................

"Her gaze seemed to bore into Hollis. “Happily that vehicle was armored. As you see, I survived. So did Brenda. Some hours later, I returned to the site and found Anna Alta. She was in hiding. She wasn’t interested in answering my questions. Instead, she ran.” 

"“So you’re a federal agent. And you killed her.” Hollis spit this out with a heavyweight hostility. “That’s how you got that fucking pendant.” 

"“You’re upset, angry,” Evan said. “So you knew her?” 

"Hollis screwed up his face. “Yes. All right. She was Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"Isobel continued to glower. Hollis’s face was as blank as a windowless building. 

"“What is your conspiracy of ravens? What are you mixed up in?” 

"Hollis’s response was to pull a pistol. It was small, a .22, easy to conceal. It didn’t have a lot of stopping power, but at this close distance it didn’t matter. A .22 bullet could kill Evan just as efficiently as a .45."

................................................................................................

Chapter 17 

"Evan hauled Peter left down the hallway as fast as she was able. Limas was hurt—how badly was yet to be determined—but it was all too apparent that being thrown against the wall hadn’t done his focus or his ability to reason any favors. He was like a sleepy child being tugged along by a hurrying parent."

" ... Blood oozed and then stopped as, together, they climbed down through the bare branches of the hackberry to the stinking pavement below."

................................................................................................

"“I’m thinking of Peter Limas.” 

"“Why? He’s going to the hospital.” 

"“No,” Butler said. “He’s going with you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Listen to me, Evan. There’s something I need to tell you, something I deliberately didn’t tell Brenda. There was a seventh name on the Nemesis kill list. I redacted it before she saw it and before I showed you.” 

"Despite her aches and pains, Evan’s mind was working overtime. “Not Peter Limas?” 

"Butler nodded. “Limas goes with you,” he said, in a tone of voice Evan knew all too well. “I—we—need to find out who he really is and why he’s on that list. Why he has a business partner who wears a raven pin.”"

"Three hours later, Evan, Peter Limas, a doctor, and a nurse were wheels up over the Atlantic, on their way to Malpensa Airport in Milan, on the first leg of their long, lonely trip to RLK Svaneti National Park in the Caucasus Mountains of Georgia."

"The red-brick building looms up before her, backgrounded by a sky white from the blinding sun. Where is the red-brick monstrosity? How did she come to be here? She cannot move. When she opens her mouth, she emits only silent breath. The glowering eaves, the ravens, and the turrets fill her field of vision. Has she passed out? Is she in the grip of a waking nightmare? She tries to sit up, tries to take several deep breaths. She wants to call for the doctor. Where is the plane?"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

...............................................

................................................

December 04, 2022 - December 05, 2022. 

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................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Part Two: The First Tribe 

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................................................................................................

Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Chapter 18 

"He had warned General Boyko—he could never think of him as Yuri Fyodorovich, no matter how long they had known each other—not to interfere with his plans for Evan Ryder, but the head of GRU had gone and done just that: he was doing whatever it took to distract Gorgonov from concentrating on Evan. Evan was a difficult enough target without Gorgonov having to divert his energies elsewhere. That Boyko had pulled this off was enough to make Gorgonov want to torch the entire building. But, with an effort, he restrained himself, in part because he did not want his bodyguards with him to see how vexed he was, but mostly because he had a better idea, one that would get under Boyko’s skin, make him want to scratch an itch he couldn’t reach. If it was a war Boyko wanted it’d be a war he’d get."

................................................................................................

"Now, on this icy winter’s eve he was sitting in his den, outstretched legs crossed at the ankles, sipping an iced vodka, watching his cache of Leni Riefenstahl films. Somewhere in the secret heart of the apartment, where neither his wife nor his cleaning lady would ever find it, was a lockbox chock-full of Nazi paraphernalia. Long ago, at school in St. Petersburg, he had come to the conclusion that there was very little difference between fascism and communism, being two paths to the same goal: to keep the masses under control. ... "

That defines the author. 

................................................................................................

"He was about to step back when he saw her stumble over the curb. One more step and she toppled to her knees. Her Zac Posen opened and he saw the blood. The raw wound in her abdomen was enormous, as if she had been shot at close range with both barrels of a Saiga tactical shotgun."

................................................................................................

Chapter 19 

" ...  In any case, Ryder was on her way to whatever destination her brief dictated; everything now revolved around Isobel keeping her marks on a tight leash. Any break in their routines might very well alert their higher-ups that they had been compromised. The way to do that with Rivers was to keep him scuttling—so busy he had no time to think. Hollis was her mark, as was Rivers. The little twerp was easily manipulated and thus neutralized. But Hollis—Hollis had put something over on her with this Nemesis business. It was all she could do not to strangle him. She hated him with a fire that would never be extinguished until he got the end he so richly deserved."

................................................................................................

"Reading through the last page, Isobel closed the folder, set it down on the cushion of the chair upon which she perched. Only then did she finally look up at him. “There’s nothing here about who is spearheading the attacks against Benjamin Butler.” Her eyes glittered like knife blades. “Didn’t I ask you to find out? Did you not hear me? Are you stupid?” She tilted her head, and before Rivers could respond, added, “Or maybe you’re simply incompetent.” 

"Rivers swallowed hard. “I’m still digging.” 

"“Well, dig faster.”

................................................................................................

"“You’re handled by the SVR,” Roger said, somewhat defensively. “I get my orders from GRU.” 

"Isobel watched him, doing her best to keep calm. How had it taken Evan Ryder to crack this rotten egg open? No matter. Why feel jealous when, because of Ryder, she was finally getting somewhere with Hollis? “So Nemesis is a Russian initiative?” 

"Hollis shrugged. “I don’t know who’s behind it, but it’s been clear to me for a while that it’s needed.”"

"“That pin . . .” 

"“The double ravens, yes.” Hollis shook out another cigarette and, without offering her one, lit up. “They’re a symbol—a symbol of a new era, the start of a cleansing.”"

Is this deliberate fraud, imposing nazi and KKK creeds on Russia? 

................................................................................................

" ... “The least I can do is inform Nemesis about this Steadman.” 

"Isobel’s eyes narrowed. “Take a moment to think that through, Roger.” 

"“Why? It’s actionable intel. Nemesis can go after this fucking female spy.” 

"“It’s also going to tell them that you’re incompetent, maybe no longer of use to them. Then they get rid of you to seal the leak tight. If that’s what you want, go right ahead.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 20 

"Having waited patiently through her conversation, Charles said, “All I know is the bomb-maker’s name,” Charles said. “Voron.”"

"“Now I have to wonder whether the operation is Russian at all.” 

"“What? How d’you get that? Isn’t Voron a Russian word?” 

"“Indeed. But it’s Russian for raven.”"

................................................................................................

"“We’re looking for a bomb-maker,” Brenda said. 

"“He’s probably Russian,” Charles added. “He’s known as Voron.” 

"“The Raven.” Nal nodded, took another toke. “I’ve heard of this one.” His voice was thin and strangled from holding the smoke in. “Very meticulous, very excellent.” The smoke emerged from between his lips in a hiss like a steam engine. “Also, very unusual. Possibly unique.” 

"“Why is that?” Brenda asked. 

"“Firstly, Voron does not work for the SVR or any other faction of the Russian intelligence Kommandatura in this country.” 

"“Who gives Voron his orders?” 

"Nal shrugged. “That I don’t know. What I can tell you is that up until several months ago Voron was freelance. Now not.” Nal grinned. “Secondly, Voron is not a man.” His eyes were very large in their sockets. “Voron is a woman.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 21 

" ... They were also equipped with cold-weather clothes, including fur-lined hiking boots and toasty Canada Goose arctic anoraks for their foray into the Racha Park area. 

"Twilight had descended with them. By the time they took a taxi from the airport into the heart of the city the lights were on and the sky was streaked with charcoal. Tbilisi was a far different city than it had been before the Rose Revolution of 2003 ousted the post-Soviet Shevardnadze government. Evan and Limas found themselves being driven through a vibrantly painted, bustling city with good food and rosy-cheeked people with smiling faces. But Old Town was still Old Town, with its pastel-colored wooden houses, liberally sprinkled with the confetti of filigreed porches and railings. And, of course, the Kura River still placidly divided the city.

"The light faded fast here and the nights were long. All through a dinner of roast chicken with sour blackberry sauce, cheese bread, and stewed wild greens at a restaurant fronting the river, there was nary a word exchanged between the two. Lights twinkled beyond the trees on the far bank, the sky was a clear navy blue. But for Evan, the image of the red-brick mansion with its towers and its ravens flickered before her, superimposing itself like a shimmering mirage over the peaceful cityscape and the snowcapped peaks toward which they were headed."

................................................................................................

" ... She swallowed an antibiotic capsule, spread antibiotic cream on the inside of a new pad, applied it to the wound. 

"Afterward, she stood at the window, looking out at a foreign street in a foreign land, and thought of Lyudmila. Where are you?I know you’re not dead. If you were I’d feel it in my bones. And I miss you. All the while, she searched for familiar signs: the shadow in a doorway across from the entrance to the hotel, the anonymous dark car parked along the curb, the occasional movement of men on watch inside a cramped space. But as hard as she looked nothing of the sort was visible. Perhaps they weren’t being tailed, but constant vigilance had become such an ingrained part of her life it was impossible—not to mention inadvisable—to stop. The moon presented itself as a crescent scar in the darkness. A truck rumbled by and that was all. Not a pedestrian out for a late-night stroll or walking his dog could be seen. The street was as empty as a disused warehouse. At that moment, Tbilisi seemed a lonely city. But possibly that was just her. The failure of her life—the life she had chosen (or had it chosen her? A question she had never been able to answer)—was forever with her.

"She had a blank spot in her memory. From three years ago. A gap of three months during a time when she was overseas working with Butler. A gap that began soon after their mission outside St. Petersburg and ended right before Josh broke her heart. And it was during those three lost months that Bobbi had been killed. Back home in Bethesda, her sister had stepped off the curb at a busy intersection and had been struck by a hit-and-run. ... "

"Retaliation. Both Evan’s sister and Butler’s wife victims of hit-and-runs within months of their returning from their mission in Russia. The GRU could have handled the two murders in different ways, but they hadn’t. The Russians had sent a message: you hurt us, we hurt you back."

................................................................................................

"The temperature was already near zero at the entrance to the park, and as they drove higher into the Caucasus it began to drop further, precipitously, obliging Evan to turn up the Range Rover’s heater to the maximum. An icy wind, bitter and inhospitable, traveled over the land, racing down from the tops of the Caucasus. 

"Butler had given them the GPS coordinates where the agents had been found."

................................................................................................

"Possibly, Evan thought, but it seemed to her there was also something impossibly majestic about the Caucasus. “Ka-kaz,” she said. 

"“What?” 

"“Ka-kaz was the original name,” Evan said. “Also the Hittite name for the people living on the southern shore of the Black Sea.” She made a sweeping gesture. “There are centuries of history here, Limas. Greek mythology set these mountains as the place where Prometheus was bound. Jason and his Argonauts sought the Golden Fleece in Colchis—the modern Kolkhida Lowland of Georgia, which is hard by the section of the range along the Black Sea coast. And the passes through these mountains, impassible in winter but extraordinarily beautiful in spring and summer, became a major northern migration route for the ancient Fertile Crescent people of the Middle East. The peoples of this region have exhibited an extraordinary ethnic and cultural diversity since early times. Believe it or not, the Colchians were described by the Greek historian Herodotus as being black-skinned Egyptians.”"

................................................................................................

"Tossing the mobile in a drawer of his desk, he slit open the file with a penknife and shook out the contents: printouts of chatter on the secure networks Turkey Forward Station monitored. As he read, his pulse climbed. These communiqués involved Nemesis, an organization he and his team had been monitoring, gathering intel about for the Sovereign. But more than that, one of them hinted that Boyko had a private connection to Nemesis that no one, least of all the Sovereign, knew about. 

"This news was so hot, he knew he needed both clarification and confirmation before he could believe it, and act on it."

................................................................................................

Chapter 22 

"The sun had not yet risen when Gorgonov and the Sovereign set out on horseback. Mist cloaked the lowlands outside Moscow in a mystic shawl. The horses’ hooves beat the frozen ground to death, cracking ice, kicking up clods of snowy earth as the steeds thundered across the grasslands, heading for the dense pine forest to the east. The sky was streaked marble. Crows cawed and circled."

"After a time, the Sovereign jerked the reins, turning the horse around so that they both faced Gorgonov. “I’m starting to harbor doubts about our General Boyko. I don’t think we have half the number of bots we should have. We need to be flooding the American internet with dezinformatsiya. Now that they have a comically ineffectual party in power and the opposition is in total disarray, it is our time to do anything with the government we want. And this president is nothing more than, as the Chinese say, a paper tiger. I can make him do or say virtually anything I want.”"

................................................................................................

"“Nemesis is a neo-Nazi organization,” Gorgonov said. “My suspicion is they’re an action group funded and controlled by our own RNU.” He meant the Russian National Unity Party, an ultra-right-wing group, espousing neo-Nazism, anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and Russian nationalism. It also wanted the Russian Orthodox Church to have a larger role in Russian life and government. As such, the RNU was anathema to the Sovereign and the State.

"“Well, that is a surprise.” The Sovereign’s voice dripped contempt. “I’ve tolerated these criminals long enough. I want your keen eye trained on the RNU.” 

"“That might be construed as stepping on the FSB’s toes.” The FSB, like the American FBI, was in charge of internal security. 

"“I’ll handle Roskov.” Alex Roskov was the head of FSB. “You do what you need to do with the RNU. It’s grown at an alarming pace, and according to you, that’s due to Nemesis. The two are bundled, I’m quite sure. There’s a serpent at the bosom of Mother Russia, Anton Recidivich. Find that serpent and kill it.” 

"“No matter how deeply inside Russia’s bosom it resides?” 

"“Absolutely, yes. You have my imprimatur.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 23 

"The building was a long, low structure with a corrugated roof. It looked like nothing more than a postmodern barn or a storage facility for silage. This rural acreage in Maryland was where Nal claimed Voron, the bomb-maker, had set up her workshop. Incredibly, the voracious urban expansion that gripped most of the greater DC area had not yet reached its tentacles this far out. 

"Unlike the rolling hills of Virginia, the landscape here was flat and bleak, stubbly as a Marine’s scalp. Once, Nal told them, the acreage had been thick with a verdant forest, but years ago it had been clear-cut in preparation for the building of yet another planned suburban community. The Great Recession had bankrupted the developer and, because more extensive testing by subsequent prospective buyers had detected water contamination from paper mills on higher ground, the land remained unsold and deserted. “It was just the ticket for a bomb-maker looking to set up shop,” Nal had said, just before they left. “But be extra careful. Bomb-makers by definition are borderline crazy. From what I’ve heard, Voron crossed that border some time ago.”"

................................................................................................

"There was nothing in this space, and no indication of what had once been housed here, not even a rusted screwdriver or wrench or even a particle of hay. There were two doors in the far wall directly in front of her, one more or less on each side, and it was clear from her visual of the outside that there must be another space behind the wall."

................................................................................................

"They were back in Tbilisi, at a restaurant near the Rustaveli Theater. It was crowded and smoky, but oddly cold. And loud, which was good for them; no one was going to be able to overhear their conversation in all that din. Vast quantities of lamb and the ubiquitous khinkali dumplings had been set before them, along with tankards of local beer."

................................................................................................

"In the widening chaos, the musclemen lost sight of their quarry, even as they made progress, shouldering their way through the tightly packed crowd. And with good reason. Evan had grabbed Limas with a whispered “Well done. Time for us to go,” ducking him away from a flurry of wild punches, quickly worming them both to the rear of the restaurant."

................................................................................................

"Sprinting around to the driver’s side, Evan wrenched open the door, but at that moment, with a high revving sound, a motorcycle turned into the alley ahead of them, and came roaring at them. Astride the bike was a slight figure in black leather, a helmet of the same color with the reflective visor down. There was no way to tell whether the rider was male or female, let alone who it might be."

"She was familiar with the model of Beretta she’d acquired, knew its idiosyncrasy—how it would pull just slightly to the left. Thrusting the gun out the car window, she aimed at the rider’s left arm, squeezed off a shot. It hit the rider dead center of his chest. He flew back off the bike, which continued to race toward the Lada. Evan backed away from the mouth of the alley just in time. There was a scream of hot rubber meeting metal as the riderless bike sheared off the Lada’s none-too-sturdy front bumper. The Lada slewed again. As for the bike, with the front tire shredded, it stutter-stepped into the blank brick wall on the alley’s far side, climbing it for a fraction of a second before smashing backward onto the pavement, shattering itself in a hail of twisted metal, glass fragments, smoking bits of plastic, and smoking rubber strips. One of the pieces of metal slammed into the Lada’s hood and bounced off the dent it had made. The car rocked wildly on its springs.

"Limas was shaking; his face held a greenish tinge."

................................................................................................

"She was only six or seven paces away when the rider rose up like a phantom. His left hand came out from behind his back and fired three shots at Evan in rapid succession."

................................................................................................

Chapter 24 

"“Yuri, I went to pick Elene up after ballet class and she wasn’t there!” 

"“That’s impossible.” A terrible icy feeling rose in his guts, uncoiling like a poisonous viper. He knew that with what was going on between him and Gorgonov it was entirely possible, although he never for an instant thought that—I mean, Elene was his daughter, for God’s sake!"

................................................................................................

" ... Like neighboring Kapotnya, a dung-heap all its own, very few people wanted to live in Nekrasovka, but many were forced to out of necessity because they worked at the massive water plant or because they could afford nothing better. Then there were the homeless, the drugged-up, disaffected youth, the tattooed gangs that roamed these areas, leaving misery and destruction in their wake."

Last mentioned, evidence of post-glasnost, post-perestroika, freedom of choice in erstwhile Soviet Union, just as the very first result of the said freedom was mafia, pickpockets, et al? 

................................................................................................

"But now he realized, belatedly, it was true, that he felt differently about Elene. She was the youngest, yes, but she was also a girl, more vulnerable. The boys had always been able to take care of themselves. Weren’t there a couple of beat-downs they had effected against those foolish enough to bully them? Yes, of course there were. His wife had been upset, naturally. But he had felt only pride in them, had rewarded them, against his wife’s protests, by taking them to the GRU officers’ unofficial bordello. “You’re a man now,” he recalled telling each one in his turn. “It’s time you received a man’s reward.”"

"Boyko felt an involuntary shiver run through him, and was instantly ashamed. But this was Elene, his only girl child, the apple of her mother’s eye. He could see her face as clearly as if she were sitting beside him, and, with an uncomfortable start, realized that she was the apple of his eye, as well. If he were to lose her now, he would wreak such holy hell on Gorgonov he’d wish he were dead."

" ... And then, in the shadowed area under the stairs, he saw it. Big as life. An icy dagger pierced his heart, causing agony beyond description. 

"At that precise moment, something extraordinary happened to him that he had heard about but had never experienced. And, in fact, had doubted its existence, putting the stories down to overactive imaginations. As he stared at the wine cask, his mind seemed to leave his body. It was as if he were hovering just below the ceiling looking down at himself staring at the wine cask—the very same kind of wine cask that his men had stuffed Gorgonov’s whore into. This eerie and unfamiliar dissociative state incited by his autonomous nervous system saved him from losing his mind.

"Elene. Now, at the very precipice of disaster, he remembered seeing her dance: her slim form elongated on pointe. How elegant she looked! he recalled thinking. How grown up! As she spun, as her partner lifted her into the air, light as a feather, how ecstatic she looked, as she landed, his hands on her slim waist, her arms spread like a swan’s wings. So beautiful he had felt a pain in his heart. The memory pulsed in front of his eyes like a video repeating over and over again. The hell with the video; he wanted to see her dance in person, see her spotlit on the company’s small stage, hear the roar of approval as she and her partner finished their duet."

................................................................................................

"He peered in, and his heart nearly ceased to beat. 

"There was Elene, looking up at him with fearful eyes. 

"“Daddy,” she said, and rose out of the otherwise empty cask, arms outstretched for him to take her home."

................................................................................................

Chapter 25 

"Limas rubbed his neck, arched his back. “I feel like I’ve been kicked by a bull.” 

"Evan pointed to the rider sprawled insensate on the Lada’s backseat. “Imagine how he feels.” 

"Limas peered in through the Lada’s window, then immediately recoiled. “The motorcycle rider. But he’s dead.” 

"“No, he’s not.” Evan got behind the Lada’s wheel. “Come on.” 

"Limas eyed the now beat-up Lada uncertainly. “Wouldn’t it be better to get the Range Rover?” 

"“In a perfect world,” Evan told him. “But that sniper is still out there somewhere, and my guess is he knows that’s the vehicle we came in.”"

................................................................................................

"“Where to start?” he asked himself. 

"“At the end—the restaurant,” Evan said. “And work backward.” 

"Amiran’s eyes were bloodshot. Both hands gripped the edge of the chair seat, between his spread legs. “You’re right, of course. I made the call just after you bought the Beretta,” he said. 

"“Which turned out to be a piece of crap,” Evan said. “But go on. Who did you call?” 

"“A man I know only as Cuervos.” 

"“You’ve got to be joking.”"

"“What?” Limas said. “What is it?” 

"Evan made an animal sound, like a lioness clearing its throat. “Cuervos is Spanish for ravens.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 26 

"“First of all,” he said, “I want to make it crystal clear I’m not one of them.” 

"“One of who?” 

"“I don’t own a raven pin.” 

"Evan nodded. “Okay. Good for you. Now answer my question. One of who?” 

"“The . . . ​the First Tribe.” 

"“The First Tribe?” “That’s what they call themselves—Die Raben.” Which, translated from German, meant the Ravens. 

"Amiran took another swig of his water, coughed softly, then continued on. “The German core of them claim to be direct descendants of Himmler, Goering, Joey the Cripp.” He meant Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Minister of Propaganda."

So - a German "white" supremacist group not only has crows as symbol, jewellery and code names, but calls themselves crows? Rich in stupidity, but then nazis were nothing if not stupid. 

"“Money,” Evan said. “Terrorist activities cost money. A lot of it, especially on a global scale. Where is Die Raben getting their funding? And don’t tell me that old wives’ tale about hidden Nazi gold.”"

................................................................................................

"Limas sighed. “So, you truly don’t recognize me, do you?”"

"“Your aunt?” was all she said. 

"“That’s right,” Limas replied. “My aunt Lyudmila. Lyudmila Alexeyevna Shokova.”"

................................................................................................

"As soon as General Boyko reached his office, Timmy arrived with the latest batch of items from Nemesis. He went through them while he was still shrugging off his greatcoat. “Why is the American government harboring a Zionist terrorist in its secret services?” the first one read. It went on to accuse Benjamin Butler of the most despicable crimes, the latest in what was now a barrage of “newly unearthed facts” incriminating him. Boyko turned to the next several communiqués. It was immediately apparent that Nemesis was also stepping up its campaign to trash any American not of the Caucasian persuasion. Two items accused the black American professional athletes of being un-American. ... A third item was in defense of the president for tweeting that the American flag burning by the neo-Nazis, now called the alt-right, an amusing euphemism that Boyko had dreamed up himself, was an acceptably peaceful manner of protest. ... "

No different from what barrages India has suffered generally from left, congress and urban naxals, and from the opposition since 2014. 

" ... It was immensely amusing to him that Nemesis was his number one client."

................................................................................................

"“My real name is Vasily, Evan. Vasily Shokov. But after my parents died, Lyudmila gave me a new identity in Russia as Vasily Mevedev so she could smuggle me out. When she came to me, Aunt Lyudmila was very circumspect,” Limas said. “She was like a grand master chess champion. ‘Always play the long game,’ she told me once. ‘No one else does; they’re all too eager to get over on one another in the short term. In the end, you’re the one who survives.’” 

"“Just like this, you want me to believe that you’re Lyudmila’s nephew?” Evan shook her head. “She never showed me a photo of you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Lyudmila could have kept us, I suppose, brought us up. Instead, in England, she brought us to friends of hers who lived in a very big stone house in Sussex. The Limases. She wanted a different life for both of us. But she also . . . ​well, she saved me for a particular purpose.” 

"“What purpose?” 

"“I think she foresaw a day when she would run against the grain of Russian Federation policy. She loved Russia dearly, but she didn’t believe in what had happened to it. She despised the Sovereign’s Russia.”"

"“And just before she vanished, she sent me a coded message. She told me that if anything seemed out of place, if anything changed in my situation, I should go find you.”"

................................................................................................

"“Is that what you think of Brenda? That she’s just playing you?” 

"Limas turned to Evan, his moonlit face so very sorrowful. “Isn’t that what she does for a living, play people?” 

"Evan had no answer for that. How well did she know Brenda, after all? And playing people was what she did for a living, too.

"Their forms passed through light and shadow, like candles flickering in a strong breeze or at the end of their lives. A dog barked far away, the sound echoing among the shanks of the mountains, a lonely, melancholy sound. They came to a shed where the proprietor kept his snares, ropes, and green saplings, stripped of bark, ready to be bent with the tough netting to snare larger game—red deer, no doubt. Evan peered in briefly, the paraphernalia silvered by the moonlight."

................................................................................................

Chapter 27 

"Popping the cork, he poured the sparkling wine into a flute, took it and the bottle over to the window, stood sipping as he looked out onto Lubyanka Square, where the wide-shouldered buildings blocked out the fragile light of the coming day. Few people braved the elements at this early hour—just a few hardy souls, bundled into anonymity, hurrying diagonally across the square, coming to relieve members of the SVR night shift."

Next description is identifies author as either US born and bred, or one desperate to cater to US readership. 

" ... he was served fresh coffee and a plate filled with a pyramid of Entenmann’s chocolate-glazed doughnuts, flown in daily for him. ... "

For someone with power to fo that, it's abominable low taste - after all he could far more easily have fresh croissants from Paris and chocolate truffles from Germany! 

................................................................................................

" ... He had set aside this completed work, when he was handed a last-minute communiqué that his people had intercepted between General Boyko and someone by the name of Alice. But then he saw that because the paper had been smudged on its way over to him he’d read the name wrong: Boyko was corresponding with Allis. An Allis in Germany. His people had narrowed the source down to somewhere in Bavaria. And, the person who had transcribed the intercept had circled two words that had not been in Cyrillic: Die Raben. 

"Gorgonov fairly leapt out of his seat. His hand was shaking so much the paper fluttered like a bird’s wing. Die Raben. The Ravens. Boyko hooked up with a German—a German in Bavaria, no less, the birthplace of Nazism. Now a hotbed of neo-Nazis. His heart rate climbed precipitously, and it was all he could do not to let out a shout. 

"Die Raben was Nemesis."

................................................................................................

" ... When he returned to his table he saw that his daughter was holding a plush bear, its coat shiny brown."

"Maks accepted Yuri the bear and, taking up a carving knife, slit open the seam along the animal’s back. Out fell a cheap pay-as-you-go mobile phone."

................................................................................................

Chapter 28 

"As she stared at the tabletop, Brenda fell into a kind of reverie or trance, as if trying to conjure up the afterimage of the bomber, catch a scent of her, intuit what was in her mind. It was in this altered state that she became aware of the hint of airflow caressing her cheek. 

"“Charles, is there a window open somewhere?”"

................................................................................................

"Brenda looked at him, pointed to where the smoke had disappeared, and he nodded, getting it. They both stood and, without a word, picked up the table, moved it off to one side, exposing the floor underneath. Stubbing her butt out on the tabletop, Brenda drew her sidearm while Charles squatted again, ran his fingertips over the rough-hewn boards. The nature of their surfaces made detection difficult and laborious, but after several moments he discovered a short length of clear plastic cord jammed into the crevice between two of the boards. He pulled it slowly upward until it was taut. He looked up at Brenda briefly. She was standing three or four paces away, in the classic shooter’s stance: arms stiff, legs at shoulder width, both hands on her gun, aiming directly at the center of what they now saw was a trapdoor to what must be a root cellar. 

"They both knew, without voicing it, that Voron might well be hiding down there. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... The wooden trapdoor had protected him from the brunt of the blast, but as it flew apart a thick shard of wood had pierced his chest like a javelin thrown by a powerful adversary. 

"And as Brenda watched, half-stunned, deafened, that adversary rose up from the root cellar where, indeed, she had secreted herself when she heard their car driving up. 

"Voron. The bomb-maker. The Raven. 

"Dark-haired, light-eyed, her body small and compact, a gymnast’s body, unformed, like a prepubescent girl, or, even, a young man not yet grown into whiskers. When she was only halfway into the room she swiveled her torso, even as she continued her ascent up the stairs or ladder that was hidden from Brenda’s view. A basilisk stare that would have creeped out Medusa struck Brenda like a stone from David’s slingshot. She felt it in the center of her chest, could swear her muscles contracted, convulsing as if with trauma."

................................................................................................

"Agonized moments later, her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed, unconscious, stretched between Charles and the devil."

................................................................................................

Chapter 29 

"Copper and salt. She smells the blood. On the walls, the floor, or simply hanging in the air. Her nose is filled with it as she is rolled down a narrow corridor. Fluorescent lights above, like arrows pointed toward—where? Slipping in and out of another dreamworld, a dense forest of pines, icy, snow-bound. She is running. Above her a conspiracy of Ravens follow, yellow eyes fixed on her as she runs. With a whoosh, the shaft of an arrow passes by the side of her head, so close she ducks away, falls, regains her feet, keeps running. 

"Running into the snare . . ."

................................................................................................

"Evan recalled the conundrum she had related to Peter of the tall native and the short native, one who only told the truth, the other who invariably lied. How to tell which was which? Evan had very few vulnerabilities. Up until this moment, she had never considered that Lyudmila could become a liability, but in her world of shadows and betrayals, any form of friendship could be exploited by a clever and resourceful enough enemy. Is that what had happened here? Had Gorgonov given Limas the mother of all legends—an entirely credible background that led Evan back to her friend? If so, it was a diabolical plan. But toward what end?"

................................................................................................

"“Right,” Butler replied. “In the meantime I’ve got actionable intel. Through intercepts, it’s becoming clear that there’s a fatal feud going on between the SVR and the GRU. The latest intel is that Gorgonov and General Boyko are at each other’s throats, over what we don’t know, but it seems possible that Limas is the key. He’s Gorgonov’s agent and he’s on the Nemesis kill list.” 

"“Better he’s with me than anywhere else.”"

................................................................................................

"“No. Oh, yes, there is one other bit of news. We may have ID’d the woman who drove the car bomb into the St. Agnes parking lot. We think her real name is Marina Mevedeva.” Marina Mevedeva. Evan felt all the air rush out of her. “I knew she was Russian. And from my violent encounter with her, certainly Russian trained. Could the Russians be bankrolling Nemesis?” “Huh. If that’s true, the prime driver would be General Boyko. With its troll bot presence and its active agents on the ground, it seems logical the GRU would be behind them.”"

"Outside it was brighter now, the air clearing. As she glanced down, Peter Limas appeared, looked up at the sky, and, breath steaming, stretched. Then he turned and, briskly rubbing his hands together, went back inside. 

"Evan moved back, sat down on the rumpled bed. Her head was spinning. “Peter Limas said he lost track of his sister,” she said. “It’s a long shot, but maybe he can ID the photo.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 30 

" ... Butler determined to spend the evening with his daughter, as any father worth his salt would. 

"They went shopping together. While Zoe had a ball picking out presents for herself, she was also adamant about buying him presents with the money she had apparently saved from the weekly allowance Butler gave her and for doing chores around the house for which Butler also paid her. 

"As they went from department to department in Neiman Marcus, happy the store was open late during the Christmas holiday season, Butler could not help but be bowled over by the manner in which Zoe chose and paid for the presents for him. Most adults he knew wouldn’t have expended as much thought as Zoe did on what the recipient of these presents would like. She chose a gift pack of Fruition chocolate bars, her father’s favorite, the shaving cream he preferred, and a comfy-cozy-looking plaid flannel shirt on sale that Butler had admired but had not bought for himself, intent as he was on shopping for his daughter. ... "

................................................................................................

"He saw Zoe into the backseat of the car, then helped Mitchell pack all the boxes and bags into the trunk. As Mitchell slammed the door down, Butler caught a glimpse over his shoulder of a black four-door Ford sedan nosing out of the traffic flow and double-parking three cars behind them. 

"Nothing happened for a moment. Then the curbside rear door began to open. 

"“The Cheesecake Factory,” Butler said, Zoe’s favorite, as he ducked into the car. A moment later, Mitchell pulled them out into the thick traffic, slowed to a crawl. Turning in his seat, Butler peered out the rear window. Through the glare of streetlights and the beams of headlights he could just make out the Ford pulling away from the curb and following them."

"When Mitchell stopped in front of The Cheesecake Factory, as Zoe was singing “Brightly shone the moon that night/Though the frost was cru-el . . .” Butler saw the black Ford slow and come to a stop near them. Perhaps for this reason, he now recalled that Wenceslas, king of tenth-century Bohemia, had been assassinated by his brother."

................................................................................................

"He looked down at the folded sheet of paper as if surprised he had hold of it. Then, as carefully as if it were a bomb, he opened it. He had to read it through three times before the reality set in: he was summoned to appear on January third before a Senate Intelligence Committee chaired by the Secretary of Defense’s good friend, Senator Willis. 

"Brady Thompson had made good on his threat."

................................................................................................

" ... If she had been thinking clearly, she would not have followed him down the corridor. If she hadn’t been critically overextended, she would have ordered Willie to call his partner out into the showroom. If her brain wasn’t still reeling from the multiple shocks of the explosion, Charles’s death, and having to kill Voron to keep herself alive, she wouldn’t be entering the back room just behind Willie."

................................................................................................

Chapter 31 

"They entered the cathedral of trees and pine needles, with cones crunching underfoot. Evan took them deeper and deeper, the chill seeping through their sweaters and trousers, and into their muscles, stiffening them. She led them into and across a small, roughly semicircular clearing, the back of which was an almost solid wall of trees. 

"Evan positioned herself within the clearing and pushed Limas back against a rough-barked pine tree. “You’re blown, Peter. Any way you slice it or dice it, the plan you and Gorgonov had for getting close to me is fucked, over. Finis.” Evan gestured with her head. “You might as well call him and tell him as much.” 

"A curious expression crossed Limas’s lips, as mysterious as that of the Mona Lisa. It seemed as if he was almost relieved that the ruse was over."

"What was most curious to Evan was that now that his real identity had been blown Peter showed neither concern nor regret. 

"“Why are you pretending to be Lyudmila’s nephew? To befriend me, that’s certain. But then what? What is it Gorgonov enlisted you to get out of me?”

................................................................................................

"“I’ve been thinking,” Limas said, peering at the two corvids. “The raven is a powerful symbol in ancient Germanic myth. Wotan, or Odin, the god-king of Reginheim, had a pair of raven familiars named Memory and Thought. These ravens would daily bring the great god news from the nine realms.” 

"Evan nodded. “Yes. And the upper echelons of the Third Reich—especially Hitler himself—put great store in the myths and magic of the ancient Germanic tribes. So that’s likely where Nemesis got the name the First Tribe.”"

................................................................................................

"Evan, registering the silence that comes with a cessation of morning birdsong, put a forefinger across her lips. Limas’s eyes narrowed. Don’t move, Evan mouthed. Long seconds ticked by. Limas mouthed, What? Patience, Evan answered him silently. 

"All at once, there was a sharp snap and then a great whooshing as of a strong wind getting up between the trees. But the treetops above them remained unmoving."

................................................................................................

Chapter 32 

"Limas was having none of it. He followed Evan’s curious zigzag path as best he could, failing ultimately because the route Evan took was so unpredictable all Limas could do was stumble blindly after her. 

"Ahead of her, Evan saw the sniper—who, in the quiet countryside, had traded his long gun for a Russian Interloper Styx, a powerful hunting crossbow. The hunter, caught unawares by Evan’s erratic headlong sprint toward him, fired even as he was driven backward in order to keep an optimal distance between him and his quarry. As a result, the bolt passed through Evan’s parka, missing her side by inches.

"The stalker was still backing up when another small but distinct snap sounded, and he was taken off his feet as the second snare, which Evan had driven him into, caught him. The crossbow, stuck in the webbing, was now useless, and, coming up to him, Evan wrenched it out of his hand, pulled it free of the webbing. She was glaring at the stalker through the prison the trapped man was futilely trying to tear apart as Limas came up beside her."

"“You were right.” There was a note of awe in Limas’s voice. “He did come after us.”

"“I gave him only one angle to shoot me,” Evan said, cutting through the netting. “Where he’d have the best line of sight.”"

................................................................................................

"“Bugger it.” Under the increasing stress, Limas was reverting to phrases from his British upbringing. “For a moment there I had this weird notion that he was a real werewolf.” 

"Pointing out the sniper’s shaven tattooed head, Evan said, “Not enough hair.” 

"Limas snorted in amusement. Her unconscious attempt at humor helped calm them both. 

"“But in a sense, he is a werewolf,” she added. 

"“What d’you mean?” 

"“Think Werner Naumann, history buff.” 

"Limas tapped his lower lip in thought. “Yes. Naumann was Goebbels’s aide at the end of the war. It was his idea to create a Nazi Werewolf Unit that would attract the most skilled of the Nazi soldiers still alive, forming a fifth column, a lethal underground resistance against Allied occupation. But by that time the Nazis had no more fight left in them, and, according to historical records I’ve seen, the Werewolf Unit was never formed.” 

"“Well, it’s been resurrected as the First Tribe,” Evan said. “Take a good look at the tattoo on the top of his head.” It was the Third Reich’s Imperial eagle, wings stretched, talons grappling a globe containing a swastika. “I think the First Tribe is Nemesis’s name for its field personnel.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Evan let him go. The stalker had already affirmed that he wasn’t going to give up anything, and Evan believed him. She had had more than her fair share of run-ins with fanatics. The main problem with them was that they weren’t afraid to die. Worse, they felt that bearing pain—even excruciating pain—was the hero’s way of keeping their group or cadre or sect or tribe safe and secure. They embraced martyrdom the moment they signed on; Amiran, the gun dealer, being the most recent example of how much they devalued life. 

"But, inevitably, as she watched Limas return to pounding the stalker over and over in savage glee, she wondered who the monster was now. 

"At length, Limas’s attack slowed and then ceased altogether; he crouched over the raw slab of meat, sated. As for the stalker, he had ceased to care, or even breathe, some time ago."

................................................................................................

Chapter 33 

"The two men, bundled up against the icy wind skating along the riverbanks, elbows on an iron railing, stared out at the bleak scene. Without traffic, the river and environs looked like a painting by an artist on the verge of suicide.

"Aliyev was a tall, slender, saturnine man with rounded shoulders and a nose that had been broken once too often. His dark eyes, deeply set in sockets too close together, peered out at the world with inveterate suspicion from beneath a heavy brow. When put together, these features made his gloomy face look like the subject of an El Greco portrait.

"“It was killing weather like this that did in Hitler’s army,” Aliyev said. 

"“I do believe the heroic Communist forces played their part,” Boyko retorted."

................................................................................................

" ... Boyko and his family had been on vacation at a resort fronting the Black Sea. Out smoking cigars on the terrace late one night Aliyev had mentioned his admiration of the superb manner with which the Nazis had run Germany, and what a shame it was that they had been led down the garden path by a syphilitic madman. Six weeks later, back in Moscow, Boyko had invited Aliyev to dinner at an out-of-the-way restaurant he often favored when he didn’t want to be seen or even noticed. Afterward, as they enjoyed one of the General’s vintage brandies in the apartment Boyko kept for his assignations with his parade of mistresses, he had brought out his carefully curated Nazi memorabilia as proudly as if they were his prized pupils. He’d never before showed his treasures to anyone else, but he trusted Aliyev to both understand and appreciate the Third Reich as he did. And he hadn’t been wrong. From these poisoned roots a solid alliance had grown, slowly but surely bearing its poisoned fruit."

................................................................................................

"“Hmm. I assume since you’ve come to me, this problem isn’t small.” 

"“Well said.” Taking the cigar butt out of his mouth, he examined the ash end as if reading tea leaves. “I need something done and I can’t be involved.” 

"Aliyev blew smoke out of his mouth, making puffs of humid mist. “So. You need a solution, Yuri. What kind?” 

"“A final solution,” Boyko said without hesitation."

................................................................................................

Chapter 34 

"“There’s one last thing.” Limas hunched forward. “I suppose I should have mentioned this sooner, but with you seeming to not believe a word I’d said, I was afraid.” 

"Limas had her full attention again. “What is it?” 

"“When you showed me the red-brick powder you’d found in the shallow cave with the bodies it rang a bell. But, really, I didn’t put it together until I got a good long look at the pendant. Those two ravens. And then it hit me. Aunt Lyudmila told me about a place she’d been to with you. She told me not to use it as a way to prove I really am her nephew because she was uncertain whether you’d remember it.” Limas spread his hands on the table. “She told me that you and she were in this place—a castle of red-brick, Victorian-looking turrets and towers and, yes, a pair of trained ravens that hung around the slate rooftop. Aunt Lyudmila went and got you out of there. It was very dangerous; she almost lost her life. You remember the deep scar in the muscle of her left shoulder?” 

"“I do.” 

"“That came from the rescue mission. You were in very bad shape when she extracted you. Six weeks in a private hospital outside Moscow convalescing. She went to see you every day.”"

................................................................................................

"Limas broke off as he followed the direction of Evan’s gaze. Directly ahead of them a barrier of concrete blocks had been set across the road. In front of the barrier, the two bikers whom Giorgi had served earlier stood, spread-legged, submachine guns at the ready. On either side of them were a half-dozen of their biker mates, all armed. As the truck approached, they aimed their submachine guns directly at the truck. 

"“What’s going on?” Limas said. 

"For instead of slowing down, Giorgi stamped down on the accelerator. The GMC leapt ahead, gaining speed by the second, cleaving through the high wind that was now bending the tips of the pines and shaking the branches."

................................................................................................

Chapter 35 

"The instant Evan realized that Giorgi had depressed the accelerator, she lunged halfway over the seatback, stretching herself over the proprietor’s shoulder, and triggered the hood latch. The oncoming wind, combined with the GMC’s speed, banged the hood up so that when the fusillade came from the bikers’ submachine guns the bullets struck the heavy hood instead of splitting open the windshield and peppering the interior."

................................................................................................

"The submachine-gun fire started up again, this time from behind them. Limas, lying prone on the backseat, cringed as the back window shattered, and glittering bits of safety glass covered him like hail. The truck shuddered on its shocks as a fusillade of bullets struck the rear bumper, but because of the erratic path Evan was taking none punctured the thick tires. Evan zigzagged wildly back onto the tarmac, the road ahead clear, and accelerated away toward Tbilisi, leaving both bullets and bikers behind."

................................................................................................

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December 05, 2022 - December 11, 2022. 

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................................................................................................

Part Three: Nemesis 

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................................................................................................

Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 

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................................................................................................

Chapter 36 

"The coroner let out a deep sigh. “Yes, yes. All is well, sir. The pin did not puncture your shirt. It didn’t reach your skin.” 

"“You mean that thing?” Gorgonov tossed his head in the direction of the pin that lay on the bottom of the kidney-shaped pan. 

"“Yes, indeed, sir. I am quite sure that when I do a tox screen of its tip I will find the same blue-ringed octopus venom that killed your man.” He looked up at Gorgonov. “There’s no doubt. You were the target of the attack. Your bodyguard did his job. He got in the way. Lucky for you, but not, unfortunately, for him.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Gorgonov fished out the pay-as-you-go mobile Boyko had stuffed into the bear. ... "

"With a deeply felt shudder, he composed the terse reply: MEET TOMORROW AT DANILOV MONASTERY 9AM."

................................................................................................

Chapter 37 

"“By the way,” Brenda said, “I ought to tell you that the gun is empty. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to come into Willie’s with it loaded?” 

"The split-second he took to check was all she needed. Her left arm blurred outward, and she grabbed his testicles through his jeans, squeezing as hard as she could. At the same time she jerked her head away. He doubled over, his cry as piercing as a newborn’s. She slammed her balled fist into his left ear, creating an agonizing suction that ripped a hole in his eardrum.

"Clutching at her clawed fingers, he lashed the barrel of the longslide into her cheekbone. Her grip on him loosened, and she fell back. As he came at her, she kneed him as hard as she could between his legs. He screamed as he fell. She wrested the pistol away from him, crawled out from under him, sat astride him, and loaded up the gun. 

"“First,” she said, doing her best to ignore the ringing in her ears, “you’re going to show me what the woman who wanted this weapon gave you on loan. Then I want you to tell me about your connections: why Voron came to you and who else like her you’ve serviced.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 38 

" ... Big Ref had earned his name for keeping the peace in and around the Oasis. Below the bar and within easy reach of his meaty hands, was a sawed-off shotgun, a Colt .45, and an old-school nightstick, a trophy of his former profession. The fact was Big Ref had many friends within the local police precinct. To a man, they were more than happy to let Big Ref settle ill-considered incursions into his territory any way he saw fit. “Better him than us,” was a mantra often muttered inside the precinct and in patrol units. 

"Brenda was just about dead on her feet, as Butler astutely observed over the other’s protestations. He would deliver Brenda to the hospital when they were done here, but his immediate goal was to quickly debrief her, take possession of the intel, and get it processed in the most expeditious manner possible. He began asking questions."

................................................................................................

Author does indulge in lyrical descriptions. 

"Butler nodded toward Brenda’s food. “Now finish your food.” 

"Brenda’s smile blossomed like a lotus in moonlight. “Every last bite.”"

Perhaps less realistic, since lotuses bloom in soft sun of early morning rather than moonlight - but one gets the enchantment of the image! 

................................................................................................

" ... Rivers, whose snout had developed the same level of expertise as a truffle-hunter, could detect the delight at the idea that POTUS might be even more vulnerable to kompromat than the Russian Sovereign had believed when he began to target him some years ago. A compromised POTUS had been the dream and the goal of the Sovereign’s top priority initiative for six years now. The long con, in its endgame phase, had become the short con. 

"And then there was the matter of the change in Isobel’s behavior, the urgency in her voice, in everything she did now. Most especially her insistence on intel concerning Benjamin Butler’s defamers. What was going on that he didn’t know about? The questions without answers were driving him crazy."

"Like a battering ram, the SUV bore down on him, and even as he stumbled backward, it jumped the curb, the nearside front fender clipping him, tossing him backward as if he was as light as a feather. He lay on the sidewalk, stunned and numb. ... "

"For a long time nothing happened, and, afterward, what he remembered most vividly was the passersby. They either ignored him or gawked before hurrying on to their very important appointments."

................................................................................................

Chapter 39 

"Evan and Limas were stopped at the airport, taken out of line, detained in a windowless room the approximate size of a broom closet. Apart from a metal table bolted to the polished concrete floor, two chairs on one side, a single chair on the other, there were no furnishings. ... "

" ... This man, younger than the hulk who had already questioned them, was the polar opposite. He smiled thinly, offered his hand and a brief but sincere apology. He did not offer his name and Evan didn’t ask. 

"“In three hours a high-ranking member of the GRU will be arriving from Moscow. I don’t know what the two of you have done to warrant such attention from the Russians and, frankly, I don’t care. Whatever you’ve done or are suspected to have done is of less importance to me than my abiding hatred of Russians.” He handed Evan and Limas their passports. “Your plane has been cleared for immediate takeoff. Two of my men are waiting outside to escort you directly onto it.”"

................................................................................................

"“How are you, Alli?” 

"“More to the point, how are you?” Warmth flowed from Alli Carson, through the ether, from Interpol HQ in Paris."

................................................................................................

"Rivers had no such son, nor anyone else, for that matter, to stand vigil or to move him, if there was, in fact, an assassin coming for him. And that led him to the chilling thought that it might have been Isobel who had ordered his death. Wasn’t the Land Cruiser the exact color as hers? But why would she do such a thing? He still hadn’t delivered the material on Benjamin Butler she had ordered him to research. Had she become impatient? Or, somehow worse still, had someone above her given the kill order? The memory of Yana Bardina’s funeral to which Isobel had very deliberately taken him as a warning was still a fresh wound in his memory. Wherever the truth lay, the fact was that he’d never felt more alone. 

"And then, with a clickety-clack of expensive high heel pumps, that self-same Isobel entered his room."

................................................................................................

Chapter 40 

"“Your body’s taken a beating, Brenda. More than it had any right to endure. And that’s not even counting the psychological and emotional stress you’ve been under.” He tucked the iPad under his arm. “Frankly, it’s a wonder you don’t have a concussion. And there’s a distinct likelihood that within the next week or so you’ll begin to experience some or all of the symptoms of PTSD. Another reason I’m ordering bed rest. You notice I said order, not prescribe. I’m absolutely serious about this. Without proper rest you could do yourself more harm than the cement mixers you encountered. Clear?” 

"“As glass.”"

"Brenda did, in fact, go home. She had no choice in the matter. Butler’s people not only walked her to her door, they went in with her, checked the apartment for, she supposed, electronic surveillance bugs. They poked everywhere."

"Then they remained in front of her building, in their vehicle ... —for a full hour after they left her company. Clearly, they had their own orders concerning her enforced sabbatical."

................................................................................................

" ... In the end, though, she turned away, lay on her side, and thought of Evan. 

"Better to think of her than Peter. She had built up a mini-storehouse of knowledge regarding Nemesis and Charles Isaacs and Voron that Evan ought to hear from an eyewitness—namely her—who could relate details no one else could. But try as she might to concentrate on that aspect of the present, her thoughts kept being borne back ceaselessly to Peter. His betrayal was a violation that cut her to the quick. ... "

"She wept then, feeling broken, fragile, bereft. Trembling in her bitterness, she cried herself to sleep."

" ... She perched on the end of her bed, bent over to tie the laces, and when she sat up the room began to spin so badly she was obliged to squeeze the comforter in a death grip."

................................................................................................

"Burrowing into the back of her closet, where even Butler’s guys hadn’t gone, she pulled up a corner of the carpet, revealing two loose floorboards. From beneath them she pulled out a dull olive-green ammo box, took from it a legend passport in the name of Amy Kendell, which not even Butler knew about, several other docs, and ten thousand dollars in cash. She put the ammo box back in its hidey-hole, replaced the floorboards and carpet. Standing up slowly, she packed an overnight bag with clothing and essential toiletries, took a black shearling car coat from the hall closet, and, checking from the living room window to make sure the car was gone, let herself out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. 

"Never before had she been a victim. She was determined never to be one again."

................................................................................................

"“Me, I never did mind the male gaze,” Isobel said. “I feel empowered.” 

"“To do what?” Rivers said, screwing his courage to the wall. “Kill me?” 

"“Kill you?” Isobel’s lips formed a perfect O. “Where in the world did you get that idea?” 

"“The vehicle that tried to run me down was a cherry-red Land Cruiser.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “You own a cherry-red Land Cruiser, Isobel. I’ve ridden in it.”"

................................................................................................

"“That rainy day is here, Riley. It’s a fucking downpour, and either you spit it out or you’re going down the drain.” 

"“Okay, okay.” Rivers, his eyes open wide, his hands trembling, licked his lips. “It’s about Brady Thompson.” 

"Isobel’s eyebrows lifted. “The Secretary of Defense? What about him?” 

"“He’s a Russian asset.” 

"“What?” 

"“That’s right.” Rivers was both pleased and relieved that he had surprised her with actionable intel. “He’s been an asset for a while.” 

"“How did the Russians . . . ? Sex? Money? What?” 

"“He got in over his head with reckless banking and real estate deals. When they all fell through he had nowhere to turn. Then the Russians stepped in to bail him out, for their usual price.”"

"The next thing she said was: “Do you have any proof?” 

"“Sadly, no.” 

"“What about communiqués, intel, anything?” 

"“My control told me Thompson was off limits, totally protected. He said his political star had risen in the sky. Now it was important that he rise to the zenith and not fall prematurely.” Rivers licked his lips. “By this I inferred that Thompson had been transferred to another corpus.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “Okay, Riley, let’s have the information regarding the origin of the social media attacks on Benjamin Butler.” 

"“Okay, well, it took some time—” 

"“Oh, get on with it, Riley!” 

"“It’s a netbot called Soul Searcher.”"

"“Okay, well, it seems that two months ago the usual GRU netbots, APT 28 and Fancy Bear, went dark. Winked out altogether and haven’t been heard from since. A couple of days later, Soul Searcher started up. Too coincidental for it to be run by anyone other than the Russians. Another thing: the Soul Searcher netbot is far more sophisticated than either of its predecessors. The Russians must have made a quantum jump in their tech. So my bet is that for whatever reason, the GRU has decided to target this Benjamin Butler. Any idea why?” 

"Isobel had a perfectly good idea why: because Ben was their American spy network’s biggest threat. But why now specifically, so aggressively . . . ​it had to have something to do with his going after this Nemesis group. ... "

" ... “Okay, Riley, showtime. Spill.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 41 

"“What happened back there at airport security?” he said as he sipped his coffee. 

"“We were made,” Evan said. “Somehow the GRU found out our whereabouts.” 

"“That’s worrying, isn’t it?” 

"Evan looked hard at Limas. “I wonder who could have told them?”"

"“I didn’t call or in any other manner contact anyone, let alone someone from the Russian side. Besides, according to you, I’m mates with Anton Gorgonov. And even if that was the case—which it’s not—and I told him, how would it get to the GRU?”"

................................................................................................

"“Which black site?” Evan had no good memories of DOD personnel. None at all. 

"“We don’t know for sure. If we ever had records of DOD’s black sites they’ve been lost in a fire we had several years ago. But like all of DOD’s past sites this one is in a location one would never expect. By piecing together an incomplete jigsaw from far-flung sources, we’ve narrowed it down to somewhere in Germany.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 42 

"“Why did you try to run Riley Rivers down?” 

"“Say what now?” 

"He took a step back, but she just advanced on him, keeping the same distance between them. 

"“Why did you use a vehicle identical to mine? Why did you want to make him think that I was out to kill him?” 

"Hollis retreated another step and again she followed him. Now his back was against the side wall."

................................................................................................

"She poked his chest with a stiff forefinger. “I get it now. You don’t want me getting my intel from anyone else. You’re jealous. But why? Do you have a thing for me? Or are you afraid of what someone else might dig up on you?”"

"“How many entities are paying you for your data-mining software? Limas helped you build a company to do good, and what do you do with it behind his back? So Nemesis, and the Russians? But which Russians? Not the SVR, not the FSB. That only leaves one corpus: GRU.” 

"“Hey, I thought we were in this together? Who cares which Russians we’re working for? Aren’t we together?”

"“We’re not in anything together, Roger. We never have been.” 

"After a stunned second, he said, “So you’re, what, a double agent?” 

"“This isn’t about me.” Isobel kept staring at Hollis. He was one of her targets. She knew a lot about him, but not all. Now was the time to peel back the last layers."

................................................................................................

"Another poke from Isobel, harder this time, caused Hollis to make a grab for her finger, intending to bend it, break it, send her down to her knees where, no doubt, he felt she belonged. But she anticipated his physical attack, and so buried a knee deep in his groin. A whoosh like a balloon deflating came from the agonized depths of his abdominal cavity. With great alacrity, she stepped away as he doubled over. 

"“A goddamned mole,” she said. 

"“I heard,” Rivers breathed. “For the GRU. For Boyko.” 

"“So it would seem.” Isobel pulled Hollis’s head up by his thinning, sweat-slick hair, stared into a face twisted by pain. “Right, Roger?”"

"“So here’s our proof, Roger,” Isobel said. “The GRU made a quantum jump in their tech.” She cocked her head. “How much did GRU pay you for your services, Roger?”"

" ... “You know, Roger, it occurs to me—belatedly, I admit—that you weren’t cut out for this sort of life. Yana got you into it, but it was a Venus flytrap. Now she’s been murdered and you’re in way over your head.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “So Boyko is your controller.” 

"Hollis seemed to have clammed up. She made a sudden move at him and he flinched. “Yes and no,” he said thickly. “He was, but then he handed me off to someone else. A man named Alice.”"

................................................................................................

"“But how did it start?” Isobel said. “That’s what I’d like to know.” 

"“Maybe it’s like this,” Rivers said, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Okay. So. Thompson was an SVR asset, and now he’s someone else’s asset. Why? My best guess now, hearing about this feud, is he was poached by the GRU. By General Boyko, specifically. Maybe that’s what started the whole thing. And he’d be the only one with enough power to pull off something like that. Now consider the nature of the asset. Thompson is the Secretary of Defense. A bigger fish I cannot imagine.”"

"Isobel nodded distractedly. She was ready to get into the meat of the matter. Hollis hadn’t so much as said “boo” at the mention of Thompson. He knew. She stared at Hollis fixedly. “So what d’you think of Rivers’s theory?” Hollis said, “I want something in return.” 

"“You might get to live,” Isobel told him. “How’s that.” 

"Hollis nodded sullenly. “Poached,” he acknowledged. “In the tumult following the disappearance of Lyudmila Shokova. Gorgonov was focused on finding out what happened to her, at the Sovereign’s order. He took his eye off the ball, Boyko moved in.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 43 

"Evan and Limas sat across from each other in a darkened booth along the wall at right angles to the bar. They were in the middle of Salzburg. Obersalzberg lay eighteen and a half miles to the south in the Bavarian Alps. They would have been in Obersalzberg by now but for the two-hour delay getting out of the airport in Tbilisi, and almost getting caught there by the GRU."

"This wasn’t the first time it occurred to Evan that Peter Limas possessed no tradecraft. If indeed he was a spy, he was a very poor one. ... In fact, that chimed with the Lyudmila she knew. Still, it was inconceivable that Gorgonov or, for that matter, any of his controls, would send a sleeper out without the proper training in tradecraft, let alone for wet work. Unless, clever fellow that Gorgonov was, he chose Peter precisely because he wasn’t an agent, someone she could smell out.

"The proprietor wandered the room, shaking hands, exchanging bon mots with locals and regulars. Every once in a while, he’d throw a sidelong glance their way when he thought they weren’t looking, but Evan saw him every time, and marked his suspicion. It might be the famed Austrian suspicion of foreigners, or it might be something more specific and, therefore, sinister.

"And yet when he reached their table, he extended a meaty hand, introduced himself as Herr Hennig, and spoke to them affably in the typical overly polite manner of the region. He bought them a round of beer, and an after-dinner drink of his finest brandy, all the while trying to weasel out of them where they were from, where they were staying, and, most insistently of all, where they were headed.

"Herr Hennig nodded, smiling like their long-lost uncle. “Yet still, perhaps you would have time to tour the former salt mine in Hallein, which is now a wonderful tourist attraction. ‘Salzwelten Hallein,’ it is called now. ‘The Hallein World of Salt.’” 

"“What a delightful suggestion! But ah, well, if only we had the time,” Evan said in a mournful tone. “But work is work, as I am certain you understand all too well, Herr Hennig. The hard work you do around here is quite apparent and much appreciated.”"

"“There’s a decent fellow,” Limas said when they were once again alone. 

"Evan emitted a short laugh. “Don’t be fooled, Peter. Herr Hennig was mining for information.” Evan took another sip of the brandy, which was indeed quite fine. “The first thing you need to learn about the Austrians is they’re hypocrites. They come at you with a smile while holding a knife behind their back.”"

................................................................................................

" ... “But what kind of information was he mining for?” 

"“Our destination,” Evan said. “You heard him mention Hallein.” 

"Limas nodded. “Yes. ‘The Hallein World of Salt.’” 

"“Well, it just so happens that the area around Obersalzberg is known for its salt mines.” Evan set aside her snifter. “I don’t think it was a coincidence that Herr Hennig mentioned ‘Salzwelten Hallein.’” 

"Limas’s brows knit together. “Do you think he knows that’s where we’re headed?” 

"Evan shook her head. “He was fishing, that’s all. But I do think that if we’d been stupid enough to tell him where we were going, a number of people—some of whom would no doubt like nothing better than to stop us—would be made aware of our destination.”"

................................................................................................

"Forty minutes later, she returned to her room, having found no sign of human surveillance; she had checked her room—and Limas’s for that matter—for any form of electronic surveillance, finding nothing. All was quiet, all was still, as if a thick blanket of snow covered the entire world."

"The red-brick mansion loomed large in these tableaux, and always the ravens circling pitch-black against the piercing blue sky—a sky she now very much suspected was Alpine. She felt the nearness of the mansion, as if it had a magnetic hold on her, as if the closer she got, the stronger that pull became until it became irresistible. Deep down in her subconscious she was aware of the danger—one greater than any she had encountered before. But what she didn’t know, what eluded her no matter how hard she set her mind to it, was what the danger entailed. And she knew—though maddeningly she didn’t know how she knew—that she would only understand the nature of this danger when she came face-to-face with it. 

"And by then it might be too late."

................................................................................................

"Brenda had chosen the nonstop eight-hour flight to Munich and a minimum two-hour drive to Obersalzberg rather than a long multi-leg flight into Salzburg. She was traveling as Amy Kendall, vice president of a computer sales company domiciled in Grand Cayman. Should anyone call to check her out they’d get an apologetic voicemail requesting the caller leave a message for the unavailable Ms. Kendall."

"While she was waiting in line at the rental car agency, two suits came up on either side of her, and asked her quietly and politely to get out of the line. They spoke English with a distinct Bavarian accent. When she refused, they told her in no uncertain terms what would happen to her if she did not comply. At the same time, she felt the muzzle of a pistol pressing into the small of her back."

"“Shut up,” Fritz said. 

"Hans shrugged, turned back around, staring out the windshield. But it wasn’t long before he was humming the “Horst Wessel Lied,” the old Nazi rallying song. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... She could not afford to give in to anxiety, fear, or despair. These were the true enemy. As long as she remained focused there was always a chance to get out of almost any situation—another one of Evan’s invaluable teachings from their time in Berlin.

"With that in mind, she settled back in the seat, closed her eyes to slits, so that Fritz might believe that she was so relaxed she was taking a nap. Meanwhile, she was taking note of all the road signs and kilometer markings in order to keep herself oriented should she have the chance to escape and call for help. She must not, under any circumstances, give up hope. Occasionally, Fritz and Hans spoke to each other, and Brenda cursed herself for not having the facility with languages Evan had. She spoke passable Russian, Arabic, and Farsi, but her knowledge of German was rudimentary at best.

"The only word that was recognizable to her was “Watzmannhaus,” which both men repeated several times. She was well aware that Watzmann was the third-highest mountain in Germany, and was often associated with Berchtesgaden, once the summer home of Adolf Hitler and later, as war approached, the heart of the Nazi Third Reich. She also recognized “haus” as meaning “house.” Wasn’t the German name for Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest Kehlsteinhaus? A deep shudder ran through her. What had she gotten herself into? And, just as importantly, how? How had she been made at the airport? No one—not even Butler—knew she had even left the States, no less where she was going, and under what legend name. No matter how she looked at the question, no reasonable answer seemed possible. Was there yet another enemy in the field, one who had been hidden from her and from Butler? Or was Peter somehow involved? Had he betrayed her once again? Right at this moment she could not imagine how. She felt blind, as if she was standing so close to a single tree she couldn’t see the forest that had arisen all around her."

" ... Dr. Selsby had been right. She needed rest—a long one. She couldn’t help thinking of the genuine concern on the doctor’s face, of how he had ordered her to bed for at least a week, otherwise she ran the risk of doing herself permanent harm. At the time, it had been a given that Brenda would ignore that order—she had entertained no other alternative. But now that she was well and truly in the soup, she could not help but think that she simply wasn’t up to another prolonged physical battle. And what did that say about her chances for survival?"

................................................................................................

Chapter 44 

"Isobel’s townhouse was unnaturally still when Butler arrived via the back door. It had been a number of long, difficult hours before he was able to break away from the action intel briefs and the strategy meetings with his lawyers on how to handle his appearance before Brady Thompson’s congressional committee, which, he was certain, was set up to discredit him and dismantle MI7. He knew that he was at the precipice, that this was likely his last fight. The committee would either break him, casting him out as a pariah in the intelligence community to which he had dedicated most of his adult life, or damage his reputation so badly that he would no longer be trusted by both his colleagues and his own people. He already knew that General Aristides had side-stepped this process and was now out of the picture so far as he was concerned. So much for powerful rabbis! 

"He saw no possible positive end to his predicament, and if he had not been made of such stern stuff, if his personality had not been forged in the crucible of fieldwork, he might have packed up and returned to Berlin, where both he and Zoe had left a full life and friends who loved them. It was times like these when he questioned why he continually took the hard, dark road, when other, easier, sunnier forks had been presented to him."

................................................................................................

"Turning on him, Isobel said in a low voice so filled with menace that Rivers froze, “Do as I say, Riley. Believe me when I tell you that your life depends on it.” 

"Turning back to Butler, she said, “Here’s the deal. This little shit, Riley Rivers, is an SVR asset. This other little shit”—here she pointed to Hollis—“has been pimping Rubicon Solutions out to the GRU—or more specifically pimping out Soul Searcher, the netbot that has targeted you, to General Boyko.” 

"“Soul Searcher,” Butler said. 

"“Right. Soul Searcher was built with Rubicon Solutions’s help.”"

................................................................................................

"All the leaves were gone and the sky was gray. Thunder rolled through the high Alps and, occasionally, a serpent’s tongue of lightning flicked downward to the earth."

"The day had grown dark, as if with an eclipse, and a wind had got up. It was as if the violent storm that had delayed them in Tbilisi had followed them here into the Bavarian Alps. But here snow, not rain, was coming.

"“You also said that she had told you where that place was, where she had rescued me. And last night, I couldn’t sleep, I kept running our conversations back through my mind, thinking it all through. Parechgadem. It’s the Old High German name of Berchtesgaden, which, ironically, means ‘hay shed’ or ‘one-room hut.’”"

"“Berchtesgaden was Hitler’s summer home and home base of the Third Reich.” 

"“I thought that was Berlin.” 

"“A common misconception,” Evan told him. “In fact, Berliners hated Hitler and the Nazis in general. The Third Reich’s high command trusted only Bavarians, who embraced Hitler and his fascist policies wholeheartedly, never Berliners.”"

"Limas thought a moment. “The parallels to America now?” 

"“Exactly. Fascism is embraced in the countryside, where wealth and education are in short supply. It’s always the big cities that fight the hardest against any form of extremism. Germany then, America now.” 

"“So, your thought is where better for Nemesis to have its headquarters than in the Bavarian Alps.” 

"Evan nodded. “And somewhere in Berchtesgaden, the better to absorb his dark power.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 45 

" ... Fritz and Hans lapsed back into silence, punctuated, at intervals, with brief bursts of Bavarian German directed at one another. 

"She knew they had meant to frighten her, to soften her up, to force her mind to anticipate the hateful things that were sure to come. It was a common enough tactic used on prisoners. Nevertheless, the phrase “Almost there” was the one that reverberated most forcefully in her head, mostly because it was the one real thing they said she could be sure of."

" ... They were quite high up now; she’d had to clear her ears three times since they left the A8. 

"The snow had abated enough so that she could see the Watzmann’s signature double peak, as if through her grandmother’s lace curtains. The road was snow-covered, and the BMW’s tires made a sound like a sleigh rushing over a hill. 

"As the way steepened, the weather changed again, sleet hammered the BMW’s top and hood, sounding to her like the warning of a rattlesnake about to strike."

................................................................................................

"When the bartender returned, he resumed his low tone. “Your pain is a shared one, gnädige Fraulein. I cannot help you, but—” Reaching down under the bar he drew out a scratch pad and the stub of a pencil that looked like a squirrel had had its way with it. “Perhaps a mate of mine can.” He scribbled a name, Joachim Wenzel, an address, and mobile number. As he tore the sheet off, slid it across to her, he added, “Tell him Markus sent you. I’ll phone him in advance.” 

"Evan bowed her head. “I am much obliged.” She pulled out some bills, but Markus waved the money away. 

"“The proud daughter of the war hero von Feuer doesn’t pay here.” He smiled, showing a pair of gold teeth. “This much I can do for a comrade in arms.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 46 

"“You started this,” Gorgonov said, looking on with distaste, “by poaching Brady Thompson, the SVR’s best American asset.” 

"Boyko shrugged his great shoulders. “Ah, you were so busy trying to find Shokova, I thought I’d take him off your plate,” he said smugly, sucking a flake of crust from between his teeth. Then his tone turned ugly. “Now it is what it is, Anton Recidivich. Thompson is mine.”"

................................................................................................

"“All this was pulled off the dark web, Gorgonov, where your lover had stashed it because, I assume, he couldn’t bear to part with it. Cherished memories, and all that.” Boyko took the file out of Gorgonov’s limp grip. “This will ruin you, you know.” He was openly gloating now. “Once the Sovereign sees what’s in here it’s off to Siberia with you. Not even a show trial or a firing squad for you. You will be lost to your wife, your daughter, your entire family. It will be as if you never existed.” 

"The general cocked his head. “Or. I could simply hold onto this and you could tender your resignation. Go into the private sector, become a businessman, do whatever you want. Just as long as you don’t bother me. I never want to see or hear from you again.”"

................................................................................................

"When he was close enough, the Sovereign said, “What have we here?” and took the file from Boyko. 

"“A very serious situation, Sovereign,” the general said. “I have discovered that Anton Recidivich Gorgonov is not fit to command the SVR. In fact, as you can see, as a closet homosexual he isn’t fit to command anything.” 

"The Sovereign raised his eyes, his heavy, penetrating gaze falling squarely on General Boyko. “What is this I hear concerning an assassination attempt on Anton Recidivich?” 

"“What?” Boyko, caught off-guard, took an involuntary step back. “I don’t know anything about—” He stopped abruptly as the Sovereign fanned out photos for him to see."

" ... “But that information on Gorgonov’s past is indisputably damning, sir.” 

"“No, General, it’s not. Unlike these photos of you and the head of our far-right movement, who you hired to assassinate Anton Recidivich, the information you have here is false. You see, I’ve seen it before. When, you might ask? Well, it was when my people created it and planted it in a very dark corner of one of the sectors of the dark web the GRU routinely monitors.” 

"It was at this moment that Boyko felt the trap snap shut on his leg. He felt all the air go out of the morning. Silently, he cursed himself for being led like a lamb to the slaughter."

................................................................................................

"“Who is this man, General?” the Sovereign asked in a tone of voice that made it clear he already knew. “One of your men?”"

"You know, you know! Boyko wanted to yell. It was torture drawing this out. “Corporal Levrov is a sniper, sir.” 

"“And you brought him here to, what, finish off the assassination Aliyev’s people botched?” 

"Boyko’s tongue seemed to have swollen in his mouth. 

"“When Anton Recidivich came here alone in good faith.”"

................................................................................................

"“Corporal Levrov, General Yuri Fyodorovich Boyko is a traitor to his Sovereign and to the Motherland,” the Sovereign intoned. “Do your duty.” 

"Without hesitation, Corporal Levrov raised the SPS and, wisely waiting until the liturgy reached a crescendo, fired one shot into Boyko’s heart, completely obliterating it. 

"Afterward, Levrov did the donkey’s work in dragging Boyko’s body out, using a preplanned route that would keep his death a secret. Two more men arrived to scrub the magnificent tiled floor clean of blood and gore."

................................................................................................

Chapter 47 

"Brenda awoke staring into the eyes of a demon, yellow as citrine. Which was decidedly odd, since she found herself in a beautifully appointed room, full of bright chintz, oversized furniture, paintings of pastoral scenes of the Germany that once was, a Germany that had been obliterated in two world wars. 

"She was reclining on an old-fashioned European chaise longue with scrolled wooden arms and fringed in earth-toned moiré fabric. In fact, almost everything in the room, which was of generous proportions, was earth-toned, except for the vase of fresh violets on the bureau against a side wall. But maybe, she thought, that sepia glow was due to the strong rays of the setting sun streaming through the west-facing windows. Clearly, the snowstorm had exhausted itself while she was unconscious."

................................................................................................

"“You have a particular interest in the Totenkopfverbände?” 

"“My father’s interest, really,” Evan said. 

"“Ah, well, in this I must disappoint you, I’m afraid. Every piece of the Death’s Head paraphernalia has been purchased by a certain party higher up on the mountain.” 

"“And who might he be?” Evan asked. 

"She turned around to face Herr Wenzel, the muzzle of whose modern-day Mauser pistol was pressed against the side of Limas’s head."

................................................................................................

Chapter 48 

"Brady Thompson’s country house—estate was more like it, Butler observed as he arrived—was a stately Colonial a bit south of Wolf Trap with a four-column porte cochere out front that could not have looked more like Tara. The Secretary of Defense had finally decided to take a day or two off, he had learned, upon arriving at his office, before he returned in the new year to skin Butler alive."

"At length, the suit gave the impression of listening to the voice coming through his earwig. “Right,” he said. Addressing Butler, he said, “Go on through, sir. The Secretary will see you in the Blue Room.” 

"The Blue Room, Butler thought. This man has the same delusions of grandeur as the Sovereign.

"He drove on, parked in the front court between a Porsche Panamera and a Ford Expedition. The interior of Thompson’s country house was as grand as the exterior, filled with crystal chandeliers, rosewood side tables, expensive furniture, and, most amusingly to Butler, portraits of several presidents, including Ronald Reagan and Bush Sr. Everything was perfectly symmetrical: two of everything, as if the place had been decorated by Noah."

................................................................................................

"Thompson blanched. “You’re not going to go public with this. I’ll be ruined. Think of my family, for the love of God.” 

"“You should have thought of them before you became a traitor.” 

"“I was already in too deep. I had sunk so much money into Moscow properties. They dazzled me with their plans and designs. It looked like a slam dunk.”"

................................................................................................

"Without another word, Thompson handed over the mobile. 

"“I’m going to have this device cloned. Whenever you use it I’ll be able to hear or see the entire conversation. Every time you’re given a new mobile you’ll contact me via a system I will give you verbally. You’ll memorize it.”"

"“Welcome to the wonderful world of the double agent, Brady.” Butler’s grin widened. “Now how about inviting me to lunch? I’d so love to meet your family.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 49 

"One of her guards left her side for a moment, knelt beside the cage, and released whatever was inside. In a flash, she saw the fox, its thick ruddy tail bobbing as it sprinted across the open space. Moments later, Major’s master took his hand off the dog’s back, and the beast leaped after his prey as if shot from a cannon."

"And Brenda knew that she was looking at her own end."

................................................................................................

"“Or I shall be forced to blow your personal assistant’s brains out.” 

"“Go ahead,” Evan said brightly. “He’s pretty, but he’s lousy at his job. I was going to fire him when we got home, but you can save me the trouble.” 

"“What?” Limas almost yelped. 

"He started so violently that Wenzel, surprised as well, glanced at him. In that instant, Evan threw the SS knife she had plucked from the safe before she’d turned around. It buried itself to the hilt in Wenzel’s side, and the German collapsed, his mouth agape. 

"Limas’s face was white and drawn. “Were you really going to let him shoot me?” 

"“What d’you think?” Stepping forward, Evan pushed Limas away, crouched down beside Wenzel. 

"“Who bought up all the Totenkopfverbände memorabilia?”"

................................................................................................

"“And who—?” 

"“Herr Doktor Cuervos,” Wenzel managed to get out. “Or should I say Señor Doctor Allis Cuervos. Returned from Argentina. But originally from fine Nazi stock. Bavarian through and through. His real name is Allis Riefenstahl.” His livid lips curved upward into a ghastly parody of a smile. “Yes, his grandmother was Leni, the genius filmmaker, favorite of Herr Joseph Goebbels.” He paused to see the effect his reveal had on the two imposters. Evan showed nothing, but Limas raised his brows, either in disbelief or amazement. Apparently choosing to believe it was the latter, Wenzel went on. “Nowadays, the good Herr Doktor lives in a red-brick mansion a quarter mile farther on, then turn left. For all the good it’ll do you.”"

................................................................................................

" ... Time to head up the mountain to the red-brick mansion, to Watzmannhaus. 

"But Wenzel wasn’t finished. A defiant look distorted his face. He puckered his lips and spat at Evan. “Heil Hitler!” he cried. 

"With an animal cry, Limas reached around Evan and pulled out the blade."

................................................................................................

Chapter 50 

" ... She was deposited in the plush library and told by one of her guards, “Sit anywhere you like.” 

"She chose the high-backed chair closest to the hearth, where a fire snapped and crackled. She leaned forward, warming her palms. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... “If I was going to sacrifice you, Peter, I’d let you walk out the front door right now.” 

"Limas peered into the small foyer. “Why? What d’you mean?” 

"“The moment Wenzel told me that Cuervos had bought up all the Death’s Head paraphernalia I knew that bartender Markus was a member of Nemesis. He was displaying a Mauser 98 sniper rifle on the rack behind the bar. He said it had a Death’s Head insignia on it.” 

"“So this prick here was Nemesis as well.” Evan nodded. “And since he knew about Brenda, he had obviously contacted someone at Watzmannhaus. I have little doubt that Cuervos sent a couple of his agents down the mountain and that they’re out front right now.” 

"“Do you think he was telling the truth?” 

"“About Brenda? It’s certainly possible.”"

................................................................................................

"“My name is Dr. Cuervos,” he said in an accent so odd Brenda couldn’t place its origin. “And you are Brenda Myers.” 

"“How do you know that name?” she queried him. 

"“But since we’re destined to be intimates, you must call me Allis, Brenda.”

"“I’m not Brenda Myers, whoever that is.”"

" ...  “I’ve seen you before.” 

"“I rather doubt that.” 

"“But I have. A photo of you. As a young man.” She paused, thinking. “And come to that, I’ve seen Major before, also in a photo.”"

"“Yes, they were on a wall in a barn. I took photos of them just before I killed her.” 

"“Killed who?” 

"Those two words seemed forced out of him, which gave Brenda, at least, some small measure of satisfaction. Until, that is, she said, “Voron.” 

"The moment she named her victim she knew it was a mistake from which she might never recover. Allis Cuervos’s face grew red. An odd kind of ugliness invaded it, as if something from another world or another part of his brain had taken hold of him, turning him into a completely different creature altogether. As if he had taken on the aspect—no, even more—the personality of Major. When he opened his mouth Brenda could imagine the fox’s bloody throat caught between his teeth."

................................................................................................

"Limas’s brows knit together in concentration. “I’ve seen this photo before—or at least one like it.” 

"“How is that possible?” Evan asked. 

"“It was one of a handful Aunt Lyudmila showed me when I was in London.” He looked up at Evan, his face ashen. “Jesus Christ, Evan, this is my father.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 51 

"“In the parlance of the hunt, Dr. Selsby is what is known as a beater. He beat the bush in a way certain to drive you here, toward this very confrontation.”"

"“Who are you, really?” 

"“Dr. Allis Cuervos.” 

"Brenda laughed. “Ah, no. You have the Slavic eyes and cheekbones—” 

"“Since it no longer matters, the name we were born with is Arkady Illyich Shokov.”

"Brenda’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait. What? Shokov? As in Lyudmila Shokova?” 

"“Ah, yes. My most likely late unlamented sister. Dr. Allis Cuervos is our operational name, just another part of the legend of a scion of the hidden Fourth Reich out of Argentina.” His head moved again, and she flinched as his lips grazed her ear. “You murdered our daughter, Brenda. And for that you must pay most dearly.” 

"Brenda gasped. “Your daughter? But I don’t know your daughter!” 

"Arkady Shokov hissed. His expression turned bitter. “Voron was her operational name. It was Illyena Shokova you murdered.”"

" ...  “If you wanted me dead, why didn’t you instruct Dr. Selsby to do it in the hospital? It was the perfect place.” 

"“Perfect? Ah, no. A public place like that was so far from perfect it was untenable. Your death would have triggered an immediate investigation, one in which Dr. Selsby certainly would have been ensnared and quite possibly caught. I need him in place, undiscovered. One of our ravens that bring us useful information periodically."

................................................................................................

"“It’s becoming increasingly clear that your father was the polar opposite of everything Lyudmila stood for. In that sense, he was Lyudmila’s greatest nemesis. I believe your father’s intractable nature is what motivated Lyudmila to spirit you away to England.” 

"“But what about Illyena? What about my sister? Why did she return to Russia, when Aunt Lyudmila made sure we were safe in England?” 

"“That remains a mystery. I’m guessing only your father knows the answer, and I think Watzmannhaus is where we’ll find him. He’s hidden himself well. It looks like he’s the head of Nemesis.”"

................................................................................................

"She closed her eyes, which, oddly, only increased her sense of vertigo. After taking several deep breaths she opened her eyes again, trying now to focus on the bigger picture. And then, through her pain and mounting fear she realized that she was hanging upside down by her ankles. ... "

................................................................................................

Chapter 52 

"“One more thing,” Evan said. “Limas claims his real name is Vasily Shokov.” 

"“And you believe this nonsense, Dieter?” 

"“Limas says your real name is also Shokov, sir. Arkady Illyich Shokov. But you’re Bavarian German just like the rest of us, is that not correct, sir?” 

"Silence on the line, just a slow, meditative breathing. Then: “Bring him now.” 

"The call was over."

................................................................................................

"“To answer your question, you won’t die,” Evan said. “As long as you don’t fuck around, as long as you direct us to Watzmannhaus.” 

"“You think Wenzel lied to us?” Limas said. 

"Evan put the car in gear and made a broken U-turn. “I think if we followed Wenzel’s directions we would have had a good chance of running off the mountain.”"

"Evan followed his directions. The farther they climbed the more difficult it was to see. She drove slowly, though thoughts of Brenda made her want to race upward. No point in getting killed in the process of trying to save her—if, in fact, she really was at Watzmannhaus. It seemed to her that virtually everything Wenzel had told them was a lie. 

"“When you see the stone and half-timber house on your left—there! Go another two hundred yards and turn right.” 

"“Where does that turnoff to the left take us?” 

"“The road is very bad there, rutted and extremely dangerous,” Paull rasped. “A vehicle went down the mountainside there the night of the first snowstorm of winter. The weather has been so bad they haven’t had a chance to mend the guardrail.” 

"Evan glanced at Limas in the rearview mirror; Limas nodded. It was as Evan surmised: the lie Wenzel had told them was meant to kill them."

................................................................................................

"“Sorry,” Evan said, keeping to Bavarian German. “That shitstick called me a fucking Berliner. I don’t take that from anyone.” Bavarians hated Berliners, thinking them elitists. Berliners considered Bavarians hicks. 

"The guard’s second of hesitation while she spoke was all the time she needed to throw one of the knives she’d pulled from Wenzel’s safe. ... "

"At length the road, like all roads, came to its inevitable end. Evan saw the structure looming up in front her—the enormous red-brick mansion. It looked more like the castle of a madman, who had, during its construction, used one architect after another. The result was a jumble of styles: Gothic, Roman, Neo-Classical.

"She held Limas in front of her, obscuring her stature, kept her head down, the brim of her cap obscuring her face. 

"The oversized iron-bound oak door opened onto a shadowed interior before Evan was even close enough to knock. Pushing Limas ahead of her, she crossed over the threshold."

................................................................................................

Chapter 53 

"Closing her eyes, she gathered herself, breathing slowly and deeply down to her pubic bone, oxygenating her muscles. She steeled her nerve and then one, two, three swung herself upward, this time grabbing onto her calves, holding herself in that position while she swung back and forth, propelled by her effort. Now she walked her hands, one, then the other, up toward her ankles, finally grasping them. Pausing to catch her breath, feeling her heart pound as if it were about to burst through her chest."

................................................................................................

"“I can see the resemblance,” Evan said. 

"Arkady Shokov sniffed. “I look nothing like my sister. She’s the spitting image of our mother. I, on the other hand, take after our father.”"

"And now Arkady turned his attention to Limas, which was another thorny issue. Evan wished Peter would just keep his mouth shut, but truly, how could he? He had come face-to-face with the father he thought he had lost forever when he was young. What must that be like? Evan wondered. How would she feel if her own father suddenly surfaced, came back into her life? As a monster? An impossible question to answer, of course."

................................................................................................

"“Go on, Evan. What possible reason could I have to spare this espion’s life?” 

"“Her name,” Evan said. “Brenda is powerful. A name out of Arthurian mythology. Brenna le Fay came before Morgan le Fay, the accomplished sorceress—a match even for Merlin, so it has been written.” 

"“And why should that mean anything to me?” 

"“The leader of the Third Reich was bewitched by the legends of the ancient Germans, the Celts, who crossed over into the British Isles many times. He believed in magic, Arkady, and so do you. Brenda or Brenna, is the Celtic name for ‘raven.’ A great misfortune will befall you if you kill Brenda.”"

................................................................................................

Here author propagates a falsehood rooted in racist colonialism, by borrowing concepts, words, images from other cultures, twisting them out of shape and context, and pretending that they have connections with - or that they belong to - Germany. 

"“Actually, I’m doing you a favor,” Evan said. And when Arkady laughed, a bark not unlike the animal’s bark, Evan went on: “You must follow the Uthark runic order, Arkady.” When Arkady made no comment, Evan said, “It was posited in the 1930s—a theory Hitler picked up on and subscribed to—that the Uthark runic order, a modern interpretation of the ancient Futhark alphabet—creates cyphers, but I’m betting you knew that already.” 

"“What has this to do with—?” 

"“Everything, Arkady. The Dark Mother, the bringer of necessary but painful change. She’s known in India as Kali, Malka-ha-Shadim in proto-Jewish culture, and Maha-Kali in Indo-Germanic tradition. ... "

Whether Kaalie (usually spelt Kali), or Mahaakalie (usually spelt Mahakali or Maha Kali), the Deities are of India and have nothing whatsoever to do with Germany, and never did. 

There's no "Indo-Germanic tradition" and never was. 

Germany was fascinated with India after England was, and before the racist policy by Macaulay, of destroying India by false propaganda, was put in place. 

Nazis borrowed some words, concepts and symbols - including occult powerful symbols of Swastika - from India, and her ancient language, Sanskrit, but gave them false meanings that had never existed in India. 

This misuse destroyed their regime. 

" ... The cypher in the Uthark runic order, however, reveals that her name is Mórrigan, later corrupted to Morgan. Brenna, the Raven, taught Morgan le Fay all she knew of magic.” She nodded her head toward Brenda. “You also might remember the story of Merlin hanging Brenna le Fay upside down for defying him. An hour after that, King Arthur Pendragon, the man Merlin was sworn to protect, was killed.”"

................................................................................................

" ... In her mind’s eye was the photo of the young Arkady Shokov in this very area. She heard again Limas telling her what Lyudmila had said: that his father had been stationed in Parechgadem, the old form of Berchtesgaden. ... "

"There was to be no answer to that question. At that moment, the bomb Evan had rigged under the dashboard of the BMW, made with the three packs of C-4 she had taken from Wenzel’s safe, exploded, shaking Watzmannhaus’s stone walls as it obliterated the BMW and the ones on either side. As for the third, it was rocked on its heavy-duty shocks, its windows blasted out, its alarm shrieking, and, not more than seventy seconds later, it was engulfed by fire."

................................................................................................

Chapter 54 

"Evan didn’t bother answering her. She was too busy catching Limas before he fell on his face. 

"“Peter,” she said. “Peter . . .” 

"“Call me Vasily, Evan.” His upper lip was peeled back in agony, revealing gums running with blood. “I was Gorgonov’s errand boy. My father was right about that.” He tried to give Evan a smile, nearly made it. “But I was never meant to kill you. Gorgonov wanted me to be the new Lyudmila for you. He wanted me to become your friend—and I did, Evan, didn’t I?”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 55 

"Major bounded in first, took one look at all the blood running over Limas, and fixed his lambent gaze on Evan. He launched himself at Evan, fast as an indrawn breath. Evan snatched up one of the shattered chair’s legs. She was holding it perpendicular to her chest when Major landed on her. The leg acted like a stake through the heart of a vampire, piercing all the way through the enormous animal’s body. Still his huge claws tried to rake Evan, his bared teeth snapped again and again, trying to take off a chunk of her face. She might have bisected his heart but it beat on, black as his fur. Black as his soul. 

"He was fighting for his life when he had no life. But he was a beast and didn’t know that. All he knew was that his prey had hurt him and he had to kill. ... "

"Arkady was in the room by this time, and he hurled himself at Evan, teeth bared, knife blade point first. Waiting until the last instant, Evan heaved the canine corpse up and away, so that it took the stab of Arkady’s knife.

"Evan took advantage of Arkady being off balance and slammed him nose first against the big black dog’s spine. Then she had Arkady in her grip, because the fight with Major, the precipice of death so close, had energized her, the razor’s edge between life and death never more vivid and close. She drew the knife out of the beast and held the blade, runneled with blood and gore, against Arkady’s throat."

................................................................................................

"“Clever. As clever as you killing Dieter and wearing his clothes.” He shook his head. “But all your vaunted cleverness won’t do you any good, Evan. Where will you go? We own the whole mountain and everyone on it. Our people are everywhere, armed to the teeth. No one will lift a finger to help you.”"

................................................................................................

"The three of them moved out. In the corridor, just past the threshold, Brenda grabbed the semi-automatic out of one of the guards’ hands. This was Evan’s first clue that she had been playing possum, that her powers of recovery were greater than any of them gave her credit for."

"They had almost reached the corridor’s end when Evan stopped them. “Right-hand door.” 

"“It’s a guest room,” Arkady told her. “There’s nothing in there. It’s a dead end unless you’re considering climbing out the window, in which case you’ll be shot the moment you fling one leg out.” 

"“Open the door,” Evan ordered. “Now!”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 56

"They descended in silence, Evan keeping an eagle eye on Arkady, Brenda on the lookout for anyone clever enough to have worked out where they had gone. They kept going down, farther than the ground floor of Watzmannhaus, lower even than its basement. And still the staircase wound down into what seemed the bowels of the mountain. 

"“This is how you helped Lyudmila escape!” Arkady stopped, turned back to Evan. “You sonuvabitch. The two of you vanished right in front of our eyes, and this is how you did it.” 

"Evan poked him hard in the small of the back. “Keep going, Arkady.”"

................................................................................................

"Evan said nothing. Peter Limas had never lied to her; it was Lyudmila who had lied to Peter, turning the real events on their head, saying she had infiltrated this place, rescued Evan. In fact, it was the other way around: Evan had rescued Lyudmila. She was hit so hard with this revelation that she stumbled, and Arkady laughed, believing that her strength was waning. For a moment, Evan lost track of where she was—or, more accurately, when she was. In a flash she was beside Lyudmila again, as Lyudmila led her through the tunnels. And with this image—so strong Evan could smell their sweat, hear the drip of water through the mineral—the entire episode came flooding back to her, and she remembered everything. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage, she heard the blood roaring through her ears. For an instant the world turned upside down. Then, just as abruptly, it was returned to her, like an offering or a gift. 

"“And yet you knew about this secret,” Arkady was saying, “about the way into the salt mines. How? How did you know?”

"Of course she now knew: it was Lyudmila who had guided her, Lyudmila her Virgil, holding her metaphorical lamp high through the darkness. Lyudmila who had meticulously done her research, who had told her that the Nazis, über-practical, not to say paranoid, had built escape tunnels into all their houses on this mountain, using the salt mines, so that if they were attacked by Allied bombing raids, they could hide there, safe within the mountain, and, if the worst came to the worst, they could disperse through those tunnels, escaping the invading enemy."

But allies were not likely to invade Bavaria and leave Austria alone, were they? 

................................................................................................

"“You fool! You don’t understand anything, so now we will spell it out for you, give you the ABC’s as if we were in kindergarten. Nemesis is financed by a cabal of American billionaires, men of an ultra-conservative nature.” 

"Evan was rocked to her core. Could it be true? It certainly was plausible. Also horrifying. Treason at the very heart of America. “Are you telling me that Russia isn’t involved?”

"Arkady threw her a pitying look. “Of course they’re involved. But, by God, they aren’t financing us. How could they? The RNU has hardly enough money to hold itself together, and as for the GRU, General Boyko is as abstemious as Scrooge. 

"“No, it’s the America for Americans, the robber baron billionaires that fund us. They are out to emulate the original robber barons like John Jacob Astor, Cornelius Vanderbilt, John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Jay Gould, J. P. Morgan. The men who controlled land speculation, the railroads, shipping, lumber and tobacco, financial institutions, oil, coal.

"“Coal!” Arkady laughed so hard tears stood out in the corners of his eyes. “Can you believe it? Coal has been dead and buried for decades. Even the Sovereign knows that.” He shook his head. “But not for these American billionaires.”

"“And the goal of Nemesis?” Evan wanted to keep Arkady talking, telling her more about what she needed to know regarding Nemesis. “Besides thrusting America back into the Middle Ages, I mean.” 

"“What a magnificent goal!” Arkady crowed. “But not all the way back to the Middle Ages, Evan, no, no. Just back to the 1930s. And just like then these modern-day robber barons wish to maximize their profits. To do this, they are manipulating the American political system in order to shield their corporations from federal and state regulations, exempt them from taxes. So they funnel tens of millions of dollars into the campaigns of candidates they control. Spend hundreds of millions to buy up local and regional media—newspapers, radio, television stations—and stock them with personnel to whom they dictate their agenda. And a dull-witted, poor, and poorly educated slice of the country, easily led and manipulated, eats up what they’re selling—the resurgence of white America.

"“And, of course, that’s not all. They’re being aided wittingly or unwittingly by evangelical Christians, as fanatic in their own way as the Muslim jihadists.” The sardonic laughter ramped up. “Such fools! You see what slaves religion makes of people?

"“Ultra-conservative billionaires, powerful evangelicals. They’ve had enough of liberal America. They’re dedicated to a country led by a charismatic tyrant they can control. And we have been in the midst of it.”"

................................................................................................

"The mineral odors became more and more intense along with a mounting chill and the unmistakable clamminess of the deepest days of winter. Occasionally, they passed thick wooden trestles nailed across pillars that helped hold up the tunnels. 

"“These must have made good hiding places in the end times of the war,” Brenda said.

"Evan nodded. “For the Nazis and for the resistance. On their way out, German sappers left booby traps to slow down the Allied infiltration.”"

................................................................................................

"He lifted a forefinger. “Oh, we know what you’re thinking, but no one at DOD knew who we really were. Our legend was lock-tight, unassailable.” He shrugged. “In any event, we were so looking forward to the interrogation. We had already been witness to the kinds of atrocities DOD perpetrated in their black sites—and this place, the Raven’s Nest—was the black site to end all black sites. Even most people inside DOD itself had no idea of its existence, let alone what went on there in the name of American world supremacy.”"

................................................................................................

Chapter 57  

"Evan hurried on, swinging the flashlight’s powerful beam from side to side. She did not go full tilt the way Arkady and his desperate pursuer had; she was on the lookout for trip wire and pressure-sensitive plates wired to buried bombs. Plenty had been cleaned out since the end of the war, but others remained in the abandoned sections of the mines. There were good reasons to keep miners and tourists out of these areas: detonations had been known to cause massive cave-ins and tragic loss of life. 

"But a growing concern for Brenda urged her forward, and if it wasn’t for the beam of light she would have missed the trip wire, a shimmering thread of death. The beam moved beyond the trip wire but she saw no sign of footprints on the ground."

................................................................................................

"Evan tossed Arkady away as if he were a rag doll. She was bleeding in several places, not the least of which was the back of her head, which hurt like hell. Nevertheless, she spent the next twenty minutes trying to free Brenda from her tomb, at the end of which time her nails were ragged, her fingers bleeding. There was too much on Brenda; she would need a bulldozer to free her. So Evan buried her carefully and fully, and tried not to think of what she had done to Vasily Shokov."

................................................................................................

"She missed Vasily, the name by which she chose to think of him now. His true name. What a strange life he must have lived, lied to about his father, moving from one country to another, from one identity to another, to another. How could he ever know who he really was? And that was the problem, Evan realized. If you don’t know who you are it’s impossible to form an allegiance, and for Vasily his only possible allegiance was to his beloved Aunt Lyudmila. Why hadn’t Lyudmila told him the truth? Perhaps, with what she knew had become of her brother, Lyudmila believed Vasily wouldn’t be safe if he knew the truth about his father, nor have any chance at all for a normal life. 

"Evan turned off the flashlight and rested then. She felt as close to death as she ever had.

"At some point, she heard voices, sharply raised, calling to one another in Bavarian-accented German, and knew Die Raben were in the mines, searching for their leader and for her. She listened to them for some time with no thought of changing position in the slightest, and eventually they moved away, farther and farther, until their voices were lost in the echoes of the past. 

"The darkness closed in. Apart from her slow breathing and her steadfast heartbeat, silence."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

...............................................

................................................

December 11, 2022 - December 12, 2022. 

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................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

Epilogue

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"SUMATRA 

"FEBRUARY

" ... “You once told me those were the happiest weeks of your life.” 

"“I did?” Lyudmila nodded. 

"Tears came to Evan’s eyes. “Well, I suppose they were. London, Paris, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and then all the way down here to Sumatra.”"

................................................................................................

"“Everyone is hoping you’re dead.” Evan very much hoped that Lyudmila would tell her how she managed the trick of vanishing so completely even the SVR and GRU couldn’t find her. In time, she had faith she would."

................................................................................................

"“But my sister . . .” 

"Evan couldn’t find it in herself to finish, so Lyudmila did it for her. 

"“Your sister was a sleeper agent.” 

"Evan felt the earth beneath her feet drop out from under her; the world tilted on end. Nothing made sense anymore. “I don’t . . . ​I can’t fathom how that’s possible.” 

"“That’s what we’re going to find out.”"

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"“Revenge has become our way of life,” Lyudmila whispered. “Now we enter the darkness.”"

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December 12, 2022 - December 13, 2022. 

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The Nemesis Manifesto (Evan Ryder Book 1) 

by Eric Van Lustbader (Author)  

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July 04, 2022 - July 04, 2022. 

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August 05, 2022 - 

December 04, 2022 - December 13, 2022. 

Purchased June 24, 2022. 

Format: Kindle Edition

Kindle Edition

Publisher : Head of Zeus 

(19 May 2020)

Language ‏: English

ASIN:- B082NZKGFM

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5062270344

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