Irina smiled first, and extended her hand to Malko.

“What a surprise!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you knew Gocha.”

“I didn’t know you did either.”

Just then, a husky man materialized behind her.

“This is my friend Yuri Khokhov,” she said in a very worldly way.

Khokhov looked like a grizzly that had just come out of hibernation. Muttering something, he led Irina away to the other side of the terrace.

“I’ll catch you later!” she called out.

Malko couldn’t tell if that was conventional politeness or if it meant something more. Irina certainly hadn’t encouraged him the previous evening.

He continued his progress to the bar, was served an orangeade, and returned with it to Nadejda. She hadn’t budged and was using an icy stare to keep a swarm of admirers at bay.

“Thank you!” she said in her high voice.

She really was an extraordinary creature, thought Malko. A caricature of a pinup.

Suddenly Gocha Sukhumi burst from the crowd holding a black caviar sandwich in one hand and a glass of vodka in the other. Wrapping a massive arm around the girl—Malko thought he might snap her in two—he whispered something into her ear. When he walked off, Nadejda remained as impassive as before but with this difference: wherever Malko went, she followed, like a trained animal.

Nadejda was far and away the sexiest woman at the party, and Malko was getting seriously turned on.

He wandered through the various rooms of Gocha’s vast apartment, with Nadejda right on his heels, like a cat. Suddenly she came close, looked him in the eye, and said:

“I’d like it if you would show me the apartment. I don’t know it very well.”

Without waiting for an answer, she took his hand and led him down a hallway lined with cartons of vodka and Armenian cognac.

Nadejda knew exactly where she was going.

She opened a door, and when Malko saw the green wallpaper, he knew where they were. The moment they were inside, she locked the door, then came over to Malko and drew close. With the same innocent expression on her face, she gently pressed her crotch against his.

When the tip of her tongue touched Malko’s lips, he felt something like an electric shock. Playing with his tongue, Nadejda kissed him with exquisite skill.

It was almost more than he could stand.

He slipped an arm around her waist and she immediately pressed against him harder.

His hand slipped down to her incredibly curvaceous ass. It felt so bouncy and firm, it seemed almost unreal.

Wasting no time, Nadejda confidently reached for Malko’s fly and started to caress him, quickly raising a monstrous erection. While telling himself that she was just an obedient little whore, all he could think of was plunging into that extraordinary rump.

With the same delicacy, Nadejda pulled Malko’s cock from his alpaca trousers and stroked it for a few seconds more. Then she led him to the big green velvet sofa and knelt on it, with her back to him. Slipping a hand under her skirt, she pulled down a tiny black string panty and tossed it to the floor. Her chest braced against the cushions, she arched her back, further increasing Malko’s desire.

Then, in her little-girl voice, she said:

“Go ahead!”

He had only to slip the skirt up her hips and step a little closer to put his cock against her pussy. He’d barely touched the wet warmth when he lost all restraint. He plunged into her with a powerful thrust, grabbing her ass in both hands, the better to guide himself.

Eyes closed and her head tilted to one side, the girl let him do whatever he pleased. Malko was beyond thinking. At some level he knew that this encounter was meaningless, but he’d turned into a caveman. Nadejda’s amazing ass radiated a sexuality so potent that Malko’s entire consciousness flooded into his dick. But even as he fucked her, he found himself imagining the next step. There was no way he would skip using her every which way.

When he slowly pulled out, Nadejda understood his intentions perfectly. With her hands she spread her ass cheeks the better to take him in.

A silent invitation.

All Malko had to do was to set his cock on the dusky ring and give a little push. Sodomy was clearly a sport Nadejda knew something about. Malko thought his head was going to explode.

Synapses overloaded, his every conscious thought lay in his cock as it penetrated that astonishing ass.

As Malko felt his orgasm rising, he pushed even deeper into Nadejda and came with a yell.

For a moment, he stayed welded to his partner, making the pleasure last. It had been a long time since he had felt such a powerful physical sensation.

Finally Nadejda gently pushed him out of her, leaving Malko’s sword without a scabbard.

Her eyes lowered, Nadejda picked up her panties, sniffed them, and put them on.

“I’m going to get a glass of orange juice,” she said, smiling shyly.

And she was gone.

It took Malko some time to come back down to earth. Gocha had given him a poisoned chalice. Nadejda clearly had a terrific career ahead of her.

Emerging from the green salon, Malko saw that the guests were still as numerous as before, drinking and talking loudly. As he reached the bar, someone thumped him on the back.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” asked a grinning Gocha.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Malko gave him an ambiguous smile.

“Pretty extraordinary,” he admitted.

“If you want to see her again, just tell me. She’s gone home to bed. Nadejda leads a very healthy life,” Gocha said, quite seriously. “No liquor, no tobacco, lots of sleep.”

As Malko poured himself some vodka, Gocha added:

“Irina Lopukin was looking for you earlier. She asked me where you were, but I didn’t tell her. I think she’s out on the terrace. You’re a lucky guy tonight. Irina’s a damn good-looking woman.”

Leaving Gocha, Malko went out onto the crowded terrace. Some of the couples along the wooden rail were groping each other, but Malko’s own libido was switched off. Where Nadejda passed, she left only scorched earth behind.

Suddenly he saw a woman making her way through the crowd toward him: it was Irina, her eyes shining. She took Malko by the arm and led him off to a dark corner.

“Where did you disappear to?” she asked.

“I’ve been right here.”

“No matter. I changed my mind. I would like to see you again.”

“Did you really change your mind?”

Irina shot him an angry look.

“Yes, I did, and I’ll explain why.”

“All right. How about dinner tomorrow?”

“No, let’s make it the day after. Come to my place; I’ll make us a reservation somewhere. I better go now; my friend will be wondering where I am.”

She merged into the crowd, leaving Malko feeling puzzled. Why had she done such an about-face? Was it on a sentimental whim, or for some other reason?

He said good-bye to Gocha and walked a few yards along the quay to clear his head. Then he flagged down an old Mercedes and gave the driver four hundred rubles to take him to the Ritz-Carlton.

—

It was half past noon, and an Audi with tinted windows was waiting in front of the Vysokta. When Irina came out of the building, a bodyguard practically leaped from the car to open the door for her.

Lavrenty Pavlovich had invited her to lunch in one of the Kremlin’s private National Security Council dining rooms. This would certainly stymie the FSB agents in charge of her surveillance; they were on hostile territory there. They could follow her only as far as the Kremlin gates. When the black Audi drove through Gate Number 9, they discreetly backed off.

Escorted by a guard, Irina first climbed a monumental staircase, then took an elevator to the second floor, which was a sea of gold and marble. This was one of the most secure areas of the Kremlin, and a man in black stood guard at every hallway corner.

It took them more than five minutes to reach the circular dining room where they would have lunch. Irina was invited to sit on a banquette. She lit a cigarette, in defiance of security regulations.

Now that she was there, though, Irina felt nervous. Was she making a big mistake? she wondered. Once she started the wheels turning, there was no going back.

Irina wasn’t doing this to please Malko Linge, but to satisfy her own pride. She couldn’t stand being so crudely humiliated by the FSB. She was going to turn their demands around on them.

She almost didn’t hear heard Pavlovich enter the room. He was tall and gaunt, almost haggard, and his suit looked too big for him, but his eyes were bright. He came over, took both of Irina’s hands, and kissed them tenderly.

“Dushka!” he exclaimed. “You’re as beautiful as ever! A ray of sunshine for me, since I see only fat, red-faced old apparatchiks all day long.”

“You look in pretty good shape yourself.”

A shadow passed through Pavlovich’s eyes.

“Ah, that’s an illusion. I’ve got something nasty eating at me. But if I lose the fight, I won’t let myself be worn down. I’ll die like a soldier. Come along, we’ll talk a little before having lunch.”

They had been lovers more than a decade earlier, but had always retained great affection for each other. She respected him, and he was secretly in love with her.

Pavlovich poured Irina a drink and sat down next to her.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “I was due to have lunch with the governor of Vladivostok, but he canceled, so I can eat with you. Otherwise you’d have to wait for weeks. So what brings you here today?”

“I just wanted to see you,” she said. “Time passes so fast. One of these days, we won’t be here anymore.”

“That’s true,” he said, nodding. “But I imagine you must have some other reason, too. Tell me the truth.”

Pavlovich was too smart to be fooled, and Irina realized she would have the put her cards on the table. But she wanted to dispel one last worry first.

“Is it safe to talk here?” she asked very quietly.

He smiled.

“As if we were in the middle of a field out in the countryside. Our people do a sweep of all these rooms every morning. And remember, we’re the ones who give orders to the siloviki. Is what you have to tell me so dangerous?”

“No, but I have some questions. And you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

“Ask away.”

Irina kept her voice low just the same:

“What do you know about the Berezovsky affair?”

Pavlovich seemed surprised.

“You mean his suicide?”

“No, his death.”

“I know everything about it,” he said calmly. “As do a very few other people. But why are you interested? Did you know him?”

“No, I just want to know what really happened.”

He nodded.

“All right, I’ll tell you.”