60
“So, Mike, who was that Antonov inspector?” Drake’s nerves were definitely bugging him.
It was just he and Mike in a small, auxiliary conference room, little more than a box with four chairs and a round table. Not a bad spot to hold a poker night.
“Holly said that Elayne Kasprak was something dangerous—like the most dangerous Russian alive or something. Xerox, Zippo, Zabar’s…? I never heard the word before.”
“Zaslon?” Drake whispered it because he now knew that was who must have murdered his Russian prisoner in Kosovo. Though he didn’t know that they had any women. Maybe that’s how the assassin had gotten by him twenty years ago.
“Sure, that sounds right.” Mike was leaning back in one of the big chairs as if he really was there for a friendly poker game.
“Zaslon?” It finally regis
