Page 12 of Eleven Numbers

“It’s where they send both high-status domestic troublemakers and high-value foreign detainees. As such, security is tight. The only sure way for you to get in is to commit a crime, in Russia, as a foreigner.”

“Are you serious?”

“Normally you would take a cab from the airport, but for this operation we think you should rent a car and drive yourself. Then have a wreck on your way to town. Damage some state property if you can. The jackpot would be to hit a police car. They hate that.”

“Are you serious?” Tyler said again, louder.

“For the biggest prize in history? Hell yes, we’re serious.”

Tyler asked, “How would I get out again?”

“A prisoner swap,” Ramsey said. “We have plenty of folks they want back.”

“How long would that take?”

“They’d do it this afternoon for some of them.”

Tyler didn’t answer.

“The entire might of the government,” Ramsey said. “Every step, every hour.”

“You’ll have a tough few days,” McGinn said. “But you’ll change the world.”

Which is how Tyler came to be in a labor camp eight hundred miles from Moscow, face-to-face with Russia’s greatest living mathematician. Who said, “Korovki is like any small town. Full of gossip. Sometimes exciting. The Dutchman spread the word at dinnertime. A new fish is among us, name of Nathan Tyler, a math professor from America.”

Tyler said, “I’m pleased to meet you, sir. It’s an honor and a privilege.”

“For me too,” Suslov said. “I recognized your name, of course. A dozen different people sent me your thesis. Tremendous work. Such subtle understanding. Not many scholars have grasped Kindansky as thoroughly as you. Perhaps none at all.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sincerely happy to make your acquaintance, Professor. But I must admit, I expected Oliver Bailey to accept my invitation in person, not send a surrogate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Has he grown too grand for an arduous mission such as this? Has his desire for comfort overtaken his desire for glory?”

“I’m not sure I understand you, sir.”

“Please,” Suslov said. “Your act is not convincing. You can’t play dumb with a man who knows your work. You’re here to find out what number I used.”

Tyler stared at him. Then he looked away. He looked at the first algorithm in his mind, the eight-figure password, the faulty side chain. Kindansky numbers danced in his head. He checked here, checked there, checked a third place.

“The ambiguity was deliberate,” he said. “It was more than an invitation. You were waving your arms and shooing us in.”

Suslov inclined his head, conceding the point.

“It was beautifully symmetrical,” Tyler said. “The front door was also the back door.”

Suslov inclined his head again, accepting the compliment.

“You had to know we would find the second algorithm,” Tyler said. “Effectively that was the entire point of the invitation. Why?”

“Because I’m old enough to look back with clarity. Our nuclear capability was a Soviet achievement. As weresatellites, and spaceships, and a hundred other things. We went from wooden plowshares to the hydrogen bomb. Thirty glorious years. The sordid pack of squalid gangsters we have today deserve none of it. So I’m taking away what I can.”

“And giving it to us?”

“You’ll disable it remotely. It’s of no other practical use to you. Giving it to you is the same as destroying it.”

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