“Well.”
Vronsky sat behind the wheel of the car. “Is that all? I heard no explosion.”
“You will not hear one,” Taz said firmly. “I do not fight my wars that way. I am not the simple code clerk in that Middle Eastern embassy, ready to jump when the KGB pulls the strings.”
Colonel Tunic bit his lip. “Comrade Taz, where is the folder?”
“Right here,” Taz said, opening his attaché case.
In the front seat Vronsky yanked the pistol from his coat and fired once at Taz’s chest.
He was just an instant too late.
Rand was still a block away when the explosion shattered the night on the quiet street. His reflexes threw him to the pavement for an instant. Then he was up and running toward the flaming car.
People were rushing from the houses, and after a moment the pulsating whine of a siren could be heard in the distance. He could see it was too late to help the car’s occupants. He tried to get close, but the flames drove him back.
Presently Gentres joined him. “Was that Taz?” he asked.
Rand nodded solemnly. “Looks as if there were one or two others with him.”
“My God. That could have been us.”
“No,” Rand said. “Taz decided it wouldn’t be us.”
“You mean he turned against his own people?”
“I think it had something to do with a man’s pride in his work. I think they recruited the wrong person for this job.”
“Definitely the wrong person,” Gentres said, watching the flames.
“But it was a close one for Komarov. They were able to follow your driver here.”
The fire engines had arrived, and a stream of water hit the blazing car with a hiss and shower of sparks. They moved back out of the way.
“Not such a close one,” Gentres said. “You see, I didn’t trust Taz as much as you did, Rand. And Russians with full black beards look pretty much alike. The real Kolia Komarov is ten miles from here. Perhaps in the morning you’d like to meet him.”