"WHAT THE HELL?" Judge Moore observed, reading the latest dispatch from Moscow. He handed the fresh copy over to Greer, who scanned it and passed it along to Mike Bostock.

"Mike, your boy Foley has a lively imagination," the Admiral commented.

"This sounds more like Mary Pat. She's the cowboy—well, cowgirl, I suppose you'd say. It is original, guys."

"Original isn't the word," the DCI said, rolling his eyes somewhat. "Okay, Mike, is it doable?"

"Theoretically, yes—and I like the operational concept. To get a defector and keep Ivan ignorant of the fact. That's style, gentlemen," Bostock said admiringly. "The ugly part is that you need three bodies, one of them a child."

The three intelligence executives managed not to shudder at the thought. It was easiest, oddly, for Judge Moore, who'd managed to get his hands wet thirty years earlier. But that had been in time of war, when the rules were a lot looser. But not loose enough for him to keep from having regrets. That was what had gotten him back into the law. He couldn't take back the things he'd done wrong, but he could make sure they wouldn't happen again. Or something like that, he told himself now. Something like that.

"Why a car crash?" Moore asked. "Why not a house fire? Doesn't that suit the tactical purposes better?"

"Good point," Bostock agreed at once. "Less physical trauma to have to explain away."

"I'll shoot that off to Basil." Even the most brilliant of people, Moore realized, could be limited in their thinking. Well, that was why he kept telling people to think outside the box. And every so often, someone managed to do that. Just not often enough.

"You know," Mike Bostock said, after a little thinking. "This will be something if we can pull it off."

"'If' can be a very large word, Mike," Greer cautioned.

"Well, maybe this time the glass is half full," the Deputy DDO suggested. "Fine. The main mission is getting this guy out, but the goose can use a little sauce once in a while."

"Hmph," Greer observed dubiously.

"Well, I'll call Emil over at the Bureau and see what he has to say about this," Moore said. "More his turf than ours."

"And if some lawyer gets hold of it, then what, Arthur?"

"James, there are ways of dealing with lawyers."

A pistol is often useful, Greer didn't say. He nodded concurrence. One bridge to cross at a time was always a good rule, especially in this crazy business.