Page 66 of Gryphon

That close to losing Mike, twice. The chill that ran up her body had nothing to do with the cold December night.

50

Pavle had rolled out of bed to take the phone call without waking Elene. The vibration buzz on the nightstand and sudden illumination had been more than enough to roust him. Not as if he’d been sleeping anyway.

He’d convinced himself to allow a night for things to brew; he was the lead agent on the operation after all. If his idea worked, far more people would die in Sweden from the ensuing war than had already died from his plan, but counterintuitively that would be less awful. In that case, it would be a NATO-Russian war killing them. Russia was slaughtering Ukrainians—and getting slaughtered by them. That was war.

But if he himself launched the next phase of the plan he’d conceived, Chief Kancheli had drafted, and the two of them then refined, then the deaths would be his doing. That sat far less comfortably.

He chose one door and wished he’d chosen the other. From the living room he could have retreated to the kitchen or the second bedroom that they used as an office and overflow closet. Here in the bathroom he could sit on the toilet or the tub. With the heat turned down for the night, his feet were already cold against the tile. His thin pajama bottoms weren’t going to help much.

The phone number was hidden, of course. He tried to think of the last time he’d received a call from an open number other than Elene—and couldn’t.

“Pavle here.”

“Sorry to wake you.” Pavle knew that Chief Kancheli wouldn’t regret it for a millisecond. Which meant something was escalating that even Chief K wasn’t comfortable with. That proved damned hard to imagine.

“No problem, Chief.” He wasn’t about to admit that he was closer to a nervous breakdown than sleep. Elene had almost smothered him with care last night. Knowing something was wrong, and that he couldn’t say what, had kicked her into some sort of overdrive excelling even his own mother when he’d been a boy.

“What’s the status of Phase Four?”

“I, uh,” he was already between two fires, “decided it was best to wait twenty-four hours. It would allow…us to observe possible developments before acting further.”

There was a muffled mumbling in the background that continued long enough for Pavle to wonder if he’d fallen down a snake hole and the security branch would come blasting through his apartment door any minute.

“That,” Chief K’s voice sounded clear again, “is acceptable.”

Pavle blew out a hard breath; Kancheli’s version of highest praise. It didn’t stop the shivers from the cold tile.

“What’s your next step?”

Pavle glanced at his wrist; his watch lay on the nightstand beside Elene. He pulled the phone far enough away to see that it was already past two in the morning. “I…was planning to head to the office in a few hours. But I expect little information until our operative from the Gulf of Finland downing returns to work later in the morning, midday our time.”

“I may have information for you by the time you arrive. Oh-eight-hundred. My office.” And Chief K hung up.

Pavle set an alarm for six. Not a chance he’d be asleep, but better safe than sorry.

He slipped into the bedroom; the carpet exchanged the smooth tile’s freeze for the chill of tiny spikes driving into his soles. Knowing that the carpet was soft didn’t alter the sensation.

“Pavle?” Elene’s voice a whisper into the darkness.

He followed it to enjoy a few hours curled up against her warmth.

With perfect understanding, she cradled him. With his nose planted against her breastbone through her flannel nightgown, either cheek cushioned by her lovely breasts and her hands stroking his hair, he felt safe for the first time in far too long.

She asked why he was crying; he hadn’t realized he was.

When she asked again, he told her.

51

Holly’s phone blasted out a loud ring. She almost lost the round she’d been holding.

Her hands were so cold that it was hard to answer the phone.

“Yo.”

“Yo?”

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