Zoya stepped forward and shoved his head to the side, exposing his neck. Just like Travers, Court wasn’t fast enough to stop her.

She said, “Stress hives. He’s lying.”

Zakharov was unmoved. “The discoloration doesn’t mean one is lying, only that one is under some stress. I should think everyone in this building, myself included, has reason to feel a bit of anxiety at present, don’t you?”

She looked up to Brewer. “I don’t believe him. He told me at the church that he had a plan that Won didn’t know about. He said that before the crop duster went down.

“I don’t think the plague was on that aircraft at all.”

Brewer just stared back. “Oh shit.”

Matt Hanley raced into the parlor now, tailed by Jenner. Zakharov turned his head to look at the new arrivals, but Hightower twisted it back around forward.

Brewer said, “There is a chance the attackers brought Dr. Won’s plague with them.”

Zakharov said, “No. We only wish to—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Zoya screamed.

Hanley had never met Zoya Zakharova, his third Poison Apple asset, but now was hardly the time for introductions. He simply addressed her. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think. I know he’s lying. He will infect everyone here somehow. He’s banking on the fact that we don’t figure that out.”

“Why on earth would I come myself if I had any intention of releasing the spores?”

Zoya did not even address her father. She spoke to Hanley. “He needs to hold everyone hostage until the effects can’t be reversed. He has to do this without anyone knowing they have been infected, so they aren’t quarantined, but instead return to their home nations and infect others.”

“Good lord, Zoya. The plot you just concocted is much more diabolical than anything I could possibly come up with.” Zakharov followed with a snorted laugh.

Just then, a voice called out from up the hallway, audible because the parlor door was open to the library. “I am looking for David Mars! I request you release him now. Downstairs we have nearly four hundred hostages in the great hall, which we have barricaded and wired with explosives. Other explosives have been set around the castle. We will grant you a two-minute grace period, and then, if Mars is not released, we will begin shooting a hostage every minute. The first hostage will be from the United States. The clock begins now.”

Gentry raced out into the library, where Jason and Travers now knelt, guns facing the doorway. Whoever was shouting the commands was down the hall to the left, out of view, but the two Americans held their weapons up at the doorway in case anyone tried to enter.

In the parlor Zakharov said, “My men will do exactly as they threaten. You can save a lot of lives by releasing me. In turn, I won’t demand you come with me, Deputy Director Hanley, or you, Ms. Brewer. Or even your security people here. They can stay.” He turned to his daughter. “I will, however, demand that Zoya come along.”

“Not happening,” Hanley said.

Zakharov replied, “You are hardly in a position of power. The directors of all five English-speaking intelligence agencies have been taken hostage, and will be shot, one by one, if I am not allowed to walk out this door . . . with my daughter. Now.”

Zoya said, “I’ll go with him.” To Hanley she said, “Sir, if you test his mettle, someone downstairs will be murdered. My father does not bluff.”

Hanley hesitated; the voice down the hall called out that he had less than one minute before the first victim was to be shot in the great hall, and then he turned to Hightower. “Let the prick go.” To Zoya he said, “We’ll get you back.”

Hightower lowered his pistol and took a step back compliantly. The Russian stood, walked over to a sofa where the items that had been taken from him were lying, and put his shirt back on and stepped into his shoes.

He took his coat and tie in his arm, then began walking. Zoya followed her father through the parlor, into the library, and towards the hall. Court had taken a position behind an oak table, and when he saw what was happening he stood up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She just looked at him without speaking as she passed.

Court called back over his shoulder. “Matt? Matt, what are you doing?”

Hanley came out with Jenner and Brewer. “Let her go. They hold the cards for now.”

Court stood, conflicted and unsure.

Zakharov stopped suddenly, faced Court. He said nothing for a long time, just looked him over. Finally he turned to Zoya. “Your friend, I take it.”

Zoya looked down at the floor.

The bearded Russian looked back to Court. “Interesting. In other circumstances, I suppose I could be calling you ‘son.’”

Court did not reply. He wanted to lift his pistol and shoot the bastard in the windpipe, but he remained still.

Zakharov stood there silently for several more seconds, staring at Court, before yelling out in Russian. “We’re coming out!”

The Russian father and daughter disappeared up the hallway.

No sooner had they gone than Jenner said, “We’re armed with pistols. I’m hearing grenades and automatic weapons downstairs. We’re not taking down those Russians without a lot more firepower. We’ve got to get to the security armory on the second floor.”

Hanley said, “Where are Greer and Lorenzi?”

“They were on night watch, so they racked out down in their room at the far end of this floor.”

Hanley nodded. “I want you to go grab them, then all six of you make for the armory. There might be others up here we can recruit.”

Jenner said, “Not leaving you here, boss. You and Ms. Brewer will be safer coming along for the ride.”

Hightower said, “Jenner, it’s your show, but I suggest we split into two teams to cover all the rooms faster. Violator and I will take Brewer and go right, you and Travers take Hanley and go left. Find Lorenzi and Greer, see if anyone else is hiding up here. We’ll meet downstairs in the security office after we’ve had a look around.”

Hanley loosened his tie around his thick neck, looked at Brewer, then said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

• • •

At the turn of the hallway towards the main wing, Zakharov met Fox, Hines, two Russian mercenaries, and two of the four sleepers. Hines took Zoya by the back of her neck and yanked her to him, her feet nearly leaving the floor in the act.

The general looked at his men. “Who has grenades?”