'No.' 'What about the girl?' 'What girl?' 'There was a girl there. Misha.' 'The apartment was empty when our people got there.' He steadied me as I moved my feet. Weak as chewed string, bloody infuriating. Someone was outside the door and we all froze by habit and Zoya opened it, standing close in the gap. A man spoke in Russian and she nodded and went out, shutting the door. 'Croder's on his way here,' Bracken said and I jerked my head to look at him. 'Croder?' 'Things have been moving. Look, why don't you sit down for a bit?' 'How did he get into Moscow?' Patiently he said: 'You mean Croder?' I let him lower me on to the crate and I put my head back against the wall and waited until the throbbing eased off. It was the first time I'd ever heard of a control coming right into the target area from London and now it had to be Croder and he was going to find his executive in the field looking just about as useful as something the cat had coughed up and there was nothing I could do about it. 'What's he doing in Moscow?' I asked Bracken. 'Going to help us out. Want another drink?' 'You don't need any help, for God's sake.' He'd pulled me off the street and got me into the safe-house at a minute's notice, even Ferris couldn't have done any better. 'Fill me in, will you?' 'I've been in signals with London for the past twelve hours. They -' 'Did you know Croder was coming out here?' 'Yes.' 'Uninformation, Jesus, I -' 'His orders. They blew Gorsky, by the way.' He didn't want to talk about Croder. 'Gorsky?' The man at the first safe-house, a good man, reliable. 'Did Schrenk think I was there?' 'Presumably. The KGB raided the place an hour ago.' Schrenk wasn't going to leave me alone. That was all right. The next time I'd follow instructions. All we want is his silence. Do it for Gorsky. 'Mind getting me some water?' 'Coming up.' I was drinking it when the door opened and Croder came in, a thin scarecrow in the heavy military coat, his skull's head catching in the light from the corridor and then darkening in shadow as he moved farther into the room, picking his way through the cluttered furniture as if through a minefield, halting in front of me at last and staring down with his black hooded eyes. 'What happened?' 'Schrenk tried to kill him,' Bracken said. 'Where is Schrenk?' 'We lost him again.' The skin drew taut across the pale pointed face and the hooded eyes blinked once. It was like watching a lizard, but I felt a strange sensation of comfort: with someone like this here, cold-blooded and totally dedicated, we wouldn't make any more mistakes. He heard the door click shut and turned with a quick swing of his shoulders; it was Zoya coming back. He looked at Bracken again. 'How many do we have left in the cell?' 'It's still intact. Six of them.' 'How are they deployed?' 'Two are watching Schrenk's last known base and two are watching an apartment block where Schrenk's lieutenant lives with his family. Pyotr Ignatov. One mobile liaison, one signals.' Croder swung back to look down at me. 'I assume you're not operational.' I was so annoyed that I got on to my feet before Bracken could try to help me. This time it didn't feel too bad. 'I'm short on protein, that's all. There wasn't time to eat.' 'He lost blood,' Zoya said in thick accents. 'I could not make any transfusion here, of course. He is weak.'