A/N: I do not know the layout of Russian government buildings, I am sorry if my description is not wholly accurate. Anyone who can suggest improvements please include them in a review or PM. Thanks!

Chapter Six

The Lincoln Town Car limousine eased out of Sheremetyevo International Airport into the cluttered streets of Moscow. The two American flags perched on either side of the hood, to indicate parking, hung limp on the windless day.

Ambassador Harry Smith watched as the Kremlin Senate building came into view. The circular dome building in the center (which was flanked by two book shaped sutures) reminded him of Thomas Jefferson's home, a landmark of his home state; for a moment he shifted the importance of meeting to back of his mind and let a brief smile cross his face.

The moment was shattered when the car came to a halt. Standing on the stone steps leading to building, was ambassador Popov. He was gray hair man with stooped shoulders and wrinkles danced across his face. The man extended a hand and gave a yellowed grin.

"Mr. Smith, I am delighted to receive you today," he said, spiting out the false pleasantries that must be observed at a political meeting.

"And what a pleasure it is to see again, ambassador Popov," said Smith in the same tone.

"Step into my office, would you?" said Popov.

The two men entered the cellular building and wound up at his office. It was the stereotypical office with two chairs placed around a desk and view from the window of cars clacking along. Behind the desk hung a white, blue and red flag.

Popov lowered himself into the high-backed chair, grumbling about the pain in his lower back in Russian.

"What to do I owe this meeting?"

Smith cleared his throat, "The President sends his regrets, but he must cancel the meeting with President Diemchuk."

Popov blinked a few times before speaking, "I must say I don't understand. First you insist that he meet with President Nolan, and now you back out. I am very confused."

"Something more pressing has come up," explained Smith.

"I hope the United States isn't in some sort of crisis," said Popov.

Just what the fuck was that supposed mean?

XXX

Russian President Fyodor Diemchuk sat his desk. He stared out the window at the gray sky and sighed. He had a red beard and bright green eyes and his shoulders were square beneath his jacket. His appearance had earned the his nickname, 'The Red Man.'

The phone on his desk rang,

"Hello? Diemchuk speaking."

"Sir," said the man on the other end. "This is Aleksandr Kozlov, director of the federal security service, we have a big problem, sir."

"What's wrong now?" he snarled.

"There's a problem with Project Footprint, Mr. President."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?"

"Well," sputtered Kozlov. "As you know Project Footprint was a security measure put in place by my predecessor here at FSB. We put a tracking device in each piece of logged nuclear hardwire and scrambled the firing mechanism internally. Ten we could sell the said items on the black market with no fear of nuclear reprisals. But the problem is, one of the items gone off the grid. A suitcase bomb."

"Well get it back on the grid," said Diemchuk coldly.

"Well," sputtered Kozlov. "That's just it, its been disabled. We have no trace."

"What?" exploded Diemchuk. "Get a trace then!"

"We have a possible lead," said Kozlov meekly.

"I'm waiting," responded Diemchuk. icily.

"According to records from the early '90s, it was sold to an arms dealer by the name Olek Danek received the device in a black-market dealing. Six months later, a young woman appeared on his door-step. Her name isCalina Fedoruk. Then she was a wet-eared nineteen year old gunrunner. In time, given her fathers' skills she became his chief appraiser, so to speak. No doubt, she disabled Project Footprint as it was her father's design. That is, until three years into the deal agents from the Ministry of Internal Affairs stormed the compound. Fedoruk escaped out the back window. No doubt, she disabled Project Footprint as it was her father's design. Danek was imprisoned for a year and a half. Fedoruk disappeared until six months ago. One of our surveillance teams spotted her in Barbados. She was visiting an Irish national whom locals called the ghost because he rarely left his home. His real identify is Liam Eaton, a suspected former member of the Irish Republican Army. The Garda have no criminal record on him and the RIC only booked him on discharging a firearm in city limits. But it's my guess he's in the market for weapons and the old terrorist in him awoke."

Fyodor leaned back in his chair, "So, the question is: where are Eaton and Fedoruk?"