Great Falls, Maryland

Expecting it to be deserted at midnight, Orlov had selected an observation point adjacent to the Potomac River for his meeting with Walters. The air was unseasonably cool after two days of heavy rain. A full moon shone between the clouds.

Orlov had learned long ago that people in Walters’ position sometimes do foolish things. He had to make certain Walters didn’t enlist the aid of the police or the FBI. Orlov arrived in the area an hour early and parked fifty yards from the observation point. No other cars were in the lot.

Orlov climbed a rock and flattened himself down out of sight. With night vision binoculars, he had a clear view of the gazebo in the observation point as well as the surrounding area. He couldn’t see anyone. No signs of a trap. Whew, he let out his breath with a sigh of relief.

He focused on the river. With the recent rain, the flow was fast. Orlov checked his watch. Forty minutes to midnight. He removed a chocolate bar from his pocket and ate it. Then he waited.

Thirty minutes later a dark blue Toyota pulled into the parking lot for the observation point. Through the binoculars, Orlov watched Walters, wearing a navy windbreaker with zipper pockets large enough to hold CDs, exit the car and walk slowly and hesitantly toward the gazebo. Orlov waited five more minutes to make certain no one else came. Walters was sitting alone on a bench in the gazebo. Satisfied, Orlov climbed down the rock and headed toward Walters. Orlov was holding a cell phone in his hand. He planned to tell Walters that as soon as he had the CDs with PGS he’d use his Swiss bank’s automatic transfer system to send the money to Walters’ account. He had no intention of doing this.

As soon as Orlov stepped into the gazebo, Walters stood up on the dirt floor. With his back toward the river, Walters was facing Orlov.

“Give me the PGS CDs.” Orlov said. His jaw was set tight, his eyes bearing in on Walters like lasers.

“I didn’t bring them,” Walters replied, his voice quavering.

“If you’re trying to hold me up for more money, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“It’s not that.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t have a choice. I’ll deliver the photos and videos to your wife. To Linda at Cornell and to Paul Junior at Penn. Also your boss at Rogers Laughton. I’ll put them on the Internet.”

Hunched over, Walters looked away from Orlov’s relentless stare. “I’ll take the humiliation. Rather than be a traitor.”

“No, you won’t. That’s not an option. Tomorrow morning, you’ll get the CDs. Then we’ll meet again tomorrow night, right here at midnight.”

“No. I won’t do it,” Walters said, straightening up.

Orlov hadn’t anticipated this response from Walters. His face displaying a cold fury, Orlov moved in close to Walters. But Walters didn’t cower.

Orlov slipped the cell phone into his jacket pocket and pulled out a hard black rubber truncheon. “I’ll beat you with this. Not on the face so anyone can see, but on your stomach and your genitals. I’ll beat you until the pain is so great that you’ll think you’re going to die. You’ll never have sex with Angie or anyone else again. Then you’ll agree to get the CDs. Or I’ll go up to Philadelphia and beat your son the same way. I’ll destroy your manhood. Then I’ll destroy his.”

When Walters didn’t respond, Orlov raised the truncheon in his right hand high above his head. “This is your last chance.”

Still, Walters remained mute. Orlov lunged for him, trying to grab Walters with his left hand. At the same time he pulled back his right arm to swing the truncheon.

Orlov was concentrating on aiming his blow. He never saw Walters’ foot viciously swinging at his groin until it was too late. A muddy, black-pointed shoe smashed into his balls. Orlov almost passed out. He gave a loud cry. “Au…Au…” He dropped to his knees.

“You’ll pay for this, bastard,” Orlov growled.

Expecting Walters to race for his car, Orlov, in excruciating pain, was too stunned to react immediately when Walters turned and bolted for the river. Orlov crawled, then staggered after him, but he was too slow. In horror, he watched Walters standing at the edge of the swiftly moving muddy river.

Orlov removed a gun from his pocket. “Don’t do it, Paul,” he called. “You’ll drown.”

Walters ignored Orlov and plunged in. Orlov fired, but had no chance of hitting Walters.

Orlov went up to the edge of the river. In the moonlight, he saw the current tossing Walters around and carrying him fast. He was bobbing up and down. Going under. Not coming up.

Shit. He’s a dead man, Orlov thought. And I may be as well, when I have to explain this to President Zhou.