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She was punching the keyboard furiously； then looked up。 〃Sixteen minutes；〃 she said hoarsely。 〃It gets into Moscow's central station in sixteen minutes！〃
Ivan Beria shifted with the sway of the train； beyond that； he did not move。
Nor had he taken his eyes off Grigori Yardeni。 The stress of the theft and the subsequent flight； coupled with the effects of the brandy； had done its work。 The Bioaparat guard had fallen asleep within minutes of the train's leaving Vladimir。
Beria leaned toward Yardeni。 He lay so still as to appear dead。 Beria cocked his ear and caught the rattle of shallow breathing。 Yardeni was in a very deep sleep。 It wouldn't take much to make it deeper still。
He slapped him on the cheeks； twice。 〃We're almost there。 Time to get up。〃
Beria looked out the window as the train threaded its way through the giant railyard。 In the reflection； he watched Yardeni yawn and stretch； roll his head to work out the kinks in his neck。 His voice was thick with sleep。
〃Where do we go from here？〃
〃Our separate ways；〃 Beria replied。 〃I will get you through the station and into a taxi。 After that； you're on your own。〃
Yardeni grunted and made a move toward the door。
〃Where are you going？〃 Beria demanded。
〃To the toilet… with your permission。〃
〃Sit down。 Everybody in the car has the same idea。 You'll end up in line。 No point in giving anyone that good a look at you； is there？〃
Yardeni considered； then sat down again。 He ran his hand over one of the parka pockets to reassure himself that the documentation and money were where they should be。 Satisfied； he thought he could hold his water until they reached the station。
When the train entered the tunnel between the yard and the station； the overhead lights flickered； went out briefly； then flickered back on。
〃Let's go；〃 Beria said。
The corridor was filling up with people。 Because of his height； Yardeni had no problem keeping Beria in sight； even in the sputtering light。 Oblivious to the muttered curses； he elbowed his way to the exit。
The train eased into its siding and shuddered to a stop。 The conductor lifted the platform that covered the steps。 Beria and Yardeni were the first ones off； walking swiftly to the front of the train and toward the doors leading to the station proper。
The big van boomed along Moscow's still…empty boulevards。 Inside； Smith； Kirov； and Telegin sat in captain's chairs bolted to the floor。 Telegin was in front of a monitor displaying the city's traffic patterns； every few seconds she spoke to the driver on her headset。
Kirov； too； wore a headset。 Ever since leaving Dzerzhinsky Square； he had been in constant munication with an elite unit of the Federal Security Service。
He swiveled his chair around to face Smith。 〃The train is in… right on schedule； wouldn't you know。〃
〃How far away are we？〃
〃Thirty seconds； maybe less。〃
〃Reinforcements？〃
〃On the way。〃 Kirov paused。 〃Are you familiar with our flying squads？〃 When Smith shook his head； he continued。 〃Unlike your FBI SWAT； we prefer to send ours in undercover。 They dress like tradesmen； greengrocers； street workers… you wouldn't recognize them until it was too late。〃
〃Let's hope it isn't。〃
Through the one…way window； Smith saw the station； a massive； nineteenth…century structure。 He braced himself as the driver veered into a sharp turn and braked hard in front of the main building。 He was on his feet even before the van stopped rocking。
Kirov grabbed his arm。 〃The flying squad has Yardeni's picture。 They'll take him alive； if possible。〃
〃Do they have mine… so they don't shoot me by mistake？〃
〃As a matter of fact； yes。 But stay close to me anyway。〃
The three ducked under the ornate portico and ran into the station。 The interior reminded Smith of a museum； all polished granite； bas relief； and three massive glass domes。 There were few travelers； but the sound of their footsteps was like the rumble of a distant herd。 In the center was a large area with rows of benches； along the sides were souvenir shops； refreshment stands； and news kiosks； most of them still shuttered。 Smith glanced at the large black arrivals/ departures board suspended from the ceiling。
〃How many others are due in？〃
〃We're in luck；〃 Lara Telegin replied。 〃This is the first one。 But in twenty minutes； the muter trains arrive。 The crowds will be unmanageable。〃
〃Which track？〃
She pointed to the right。 〃Over there。 Number seventeen。〃
As they ran for the doors leading to the sidings； Smith turned to Kirov and said； 〃I don't see any of your people around。〃
Kirov tapped the plastic receiver in his ear。 〃Believe me； they're here。〃
The air on the platforms was heavy with diesel fumes。 Smith and the others ran past orange and gray electric lootives； resting in their sidings； until they came up against a stream of people going the other way。 Moving to the side； they began scanning faces。
〃I'm going to find a conductor；〃 Telegin said。 〃Maybe if I show him Yardeni's picture； he'll remember the face。〃
Smith continued to study the passersby who trudged along； their faces puffy from sleep； their shoulders bowed under the weight of suitcases and packages bound with string and rope。
He turned to Kirov。 〃There aren't enough passengers。 These must be ing from the last cars。 Whoever was riding up front is already in the station！〃
Ivan Beria was standing in front of a newsstand that had just opened for business。 He threw down a few kopeks and picked up a newspaper。 Leaning against a pillar； he positioned himself so as to have an unobstructed view of the entrance to the men's washroom。
Given Yardeni's size and the dose of slow…acting poison that had been in the brandy； Beria estimated that the big guard would not make it out of the washroom alive。
Any second； he expected someone to run out screaming that a man inside was having a seizure。
But no； there was Yardem； strolling out of the washroom； looking considerably happier； checking… like a peasant… to make sure that his zipper was done up。
Beria slipped his hand into his coat pocket； to his Taurus 9mm； when his eyes registered the anomaly： a man wearing overalls； like a sanitation worker； was in the process of emptying a bin into his push cart。 The only problem was that as soon as he saw Yardeni； he forgot all about the garbage。
Where there's one； there are more。
Beria slipped around the pillar so that Yardeni wouldn't spot him and quickly surveyed the station。 Within seconds he picked out two more men who were out of place： a deliveryman hauling bread； and one who tried to pass himself off as an electrician。
Beria knew a great deal about the Federal Security Service。 He was aware that the interest was both reciprocal and intense。 But he could not believe they were there for him。 Clearly the object of their attention was Yardeni。
Recalling what Yardeni had told him about his clean getaway from Bioaparat； Beria cursed。 The guard would pay dearly for his lies。
Beria watched him stroll among the benches toward the kiosks。 The three plainclothes agents trailed； forming a rough triangle behind him。 One was speaking into a wrist mike。
Then Beria noticed a ta