The Atlantis Stone
it."
    "I suppose it's possible," Nick said.
    "You sound doubtful."
    "It seems to me someone would have noticed by now if another tablet was there."
    "You could be right," Elizabeth said, "but we need to check it out."
    "It's a real long shot," Nick said.
    "It's the only shot we've got."
    "Am I in on this one?" Lamont asked.
    "No. I want you healthy before you go back out in the field. There's plenty for you to do here." Elizabeth turned to the others. "Nick, you and Selena and Ronnie will go. Keep an eye out in case the Russians decide to follow up. Be careful. I don't want any of you showing up in one of those ISIS videos."
     

CHAPTER 16
     
     
    Valentina Antipov cast a critical eye at her reflection. She brushed a speck of dust from her uniform. The four small gold stars on her shoulder boards marked her recent promotion to captain. In the mostly male world of Russian security, it was high acknowledgment.
    The dark olive green color of her uniform went well with her deep green eyes. Her long, dark hair was coiled tightly at the back of her head in accordance with regulations. The jacket felt tight across her chest but that couldn't be helped. She picked up the hat, careful not to touch the gleaming visor, admiring the gold and red badge and red piping. It added a touch of color and elegance to the uniform and spoke of authority and tradition.
    Today was a special occasion. She was to receive the Medal of the Fatherland, First Class, with Swords. It was an important award, about as good as it got in peacetime. President Vladimir Orlov himself would pin it on. Like the promotion, the medal was an acknowledgment of her work in the Balkans and Germany during the winter just past.
    With a final quick check in the mirror, Valentina left her apartment and locked the door behind her. She went down the stairs to the street. A black Lincoln limousine waited to take her to the ceremony in the Kremlin. Modern American cars had taken the place of the aging Zils that once shepherded the elite of Russia around Moscow. A young corporal saluted and held the rear door open for her. Valentina wasn't surprised to see General Vysotsky sitting in the backseat.
    "Good morning, Valentina."
    "General."
    Valentina's mother had been KGB, like Vysotsky. She'd died when Valentina was nine years old. Vysotsky had watched over her after that, supervising her progress and training. He'd never shown her affection that she could remember. She would not have known how to respond if he had. Valentina had long ago clamped down on her emotions, burying her desires for something more than the approval of her instructors.
    Vysotsky looked her over and nodded, once.
    "Good. Our president appreciates attention to detail."
    "I haven't thanked you for recommending me for this decoration," she said.
    "Much as I would like to take credit, it's not me you have to thank."
    "Who, then?"
    "President Orlov. He decided to give you this after I explained to him how your actions in Germany revealed the plot against us."
    Valentina's long history with Vysotsky allowed her to address him with familiarity, at least in private. A glass window separated the driver's compartment from the rear. Even so, Valentina suspected everything said in the car would be recorded. She kept her voice neutral and her thoughts to herself.
    "It is good that our president was able to call back the forces he was forced to deploy."
    The truth was that Orlov had launched an unprovoked invasion of the Baltic states. He'd been tricked into thinking NATO and the West were too weak and too unwilling to respond. Anyone who made the mistake of pointing out that Orlov had been duped would soon find themselves spending time in Lefortovo prison.
    Vysotsky, just as aware as Valentina that the car might be bugged, nodded agreement.
    "President Orlov only wants peace with the West."
    The car entered the Kremlin grounds.
    "Where are we going?"
    "The president has chosen the Armory for the presentation."
    Valentina

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