“I know that, Adam.” Thomas shoved his long fingers through his hair. “You know how quick he is, how clever. Look at how he flushed all of you out of that house in Riptide and then snuck in and hid in Becca’s closet. That took balls and cunning. And luck. It is possible that you could have missed Chuck when you were all scouring the area for him, possible that you would have found Chuck tied up and gagged, but you didn’t. He was lucky there and he got her.

“I hate to say this, but I firmly believe he’ll evade capture. He knows I’ll be at the center of things, trying to figure out how to get him. He’ll come to Washington. He’s going to try to find Becca and me. He’s got nothing else to do.”

“I still can’t figure out why he threw Becca out of his car in New York. He had her. He could have announced it and had you knocking on his door to try to save her. But he let her go. Why? Shit, I’m making myself crazy. But if he’s as smart as you say he is, he won’t come down here, at least not yet, not until things cool down a bit.”

“There’s one thing I am sure about now, Adam. I’m his reason for living, probably his only reason now. That’s why he’s leaving a trail of death. He doesn’t care about himself anymore. He just wants me dead. And Becca, too. I’m thinking that Becca should head out to Seattle or maybe even Honolulu.”

“Yeah, right. You be the one to convince her of that, okay? She’s just found you. You believe for a single second that she’d just pull out now, be willing to say sayonara to the father she just met?”

“Probably not.” Thomas sighed. “She’s still so wary of me. It’s like she can’t make up her mind whether to hug me or slug me for leaving her and her mother.”

“I’m thinking she wants to do both. At least now you two are together. The rest will come, Thomas, just be patient. For God’s sake, she’s known you for twenty-four hours.”

“You’re right, of course. But—never mind. Jesus, Krimakov just went right in there and killed everyone,” Thomas said. “Everyone, without hesitation. To flush me out that first time, he released Becca. I can’t imagine what he’d do to her now that she’s with me. Well, yes I can. He’d kill her with no more remorse than when he killed all the others. And yes, there’s no doubt in my mind that he believes she’s with me now. Damnation, he had a silencer on the gun, Adam.”

“Yes.”

“Agent Marlane had six shots pumped into her. He saw that the male agent wasn’t me, knew he’d been set up, and went berserk. Dell Carson, the agent playing me, had his gun out, but he didn’t have time to fire. Neither did Agent Marlane.”

“Yes. I know.”

“How the hell did he get away? Hawley had undercover folk stationed all over that floor and the exits.”

Adam shook his head. “His disguise must have been something else. Maybe he even dolled himself up as a woman. Who knows? Do you remember if Krimakov did disguises back then?”

Thomas leaned against the corridor wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “No. But it’s been so many years, Adam, too many. What troubles me, and I know I can’t let it, is that Becca just can’t be sure that the guy who took her, the guy on the phone to her, was older.” Thomas shook his head. “Another thing. Vasili was fluent in English, but I’ve read the transcripts of the conversations he had with Becca. It sounds so unlike him. And what he wrote, what he said to her, what he did. Calling himself her boyfriend, murdering Linda Cartwright, then digging her up, smashing her face, all as a sick joke to drive Becca over the edge. That’s the behavior of a psychopath, Adam. Krimakov wasn’t a psychopath. He was supremely arrogant, but as sane as I was.”

“Whatever Krimakov was back then, he’s changed,” Adam said. “Who knows what’s happened to him during the past twenty years? Don’t forget all those killings: a second wife, two children, the guy whose password he used to get into the computer system to expunge all his personal data, killing someone to fake his own accidental death in that car accident. How many more we don’t know about? And that brings up another question. You said that you believe you’re now his only focus, his purpose for living. What about his son? He’s in that burn clinic in Switzerland. He doesn’t care about him anymore? Or maybe that wasn’t an accident, either, and he tried to kill him, too?”

“I don’t know.”

Adam said, “Maybe he was always over the top and he’s just gotten more so, and maybe that goes to explain why he appears not to be worrying about his son. No, Thomas, don’t argue with me. He’s now here—in a foreign country to him—no longer in Crete. He’s on our turf, and he probably hasn’t been here for all that long.”