~4.4~

“What I want,” Ivan said, “is the tiniest bit of cooperation.”

“I’d be more than happy to share my turkey with you,” John said. “If you mean you want somebody to follow your orders, I suggest you try your own people.”

“I could put twenty of my own men on this and not see the same results you could achieve,” Ivan said.

In point of fact, he had put some of his men to work on tracking down the source of the attacks, from different angles, but he knew the limitations of his traditional methods. He needed another perspective, one more primitive… primal. Closer to the root of things.

“You already asked him, didn’t you?” John asked. “The other one.”

“I ran into him,” Ivan said. “You were my first choice.”

“Disingenuous,” John said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You were,” Ivan said. “Whatever his capabilities are, he is outside of my reach.”

“And you think I am not?”

“I think you are more amenable to reason, which is often beyond him,” Ivan said. “And other forms of… persuasion, which he is often beyond.”

John looked up, affronted.

“Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?” he cried, leaping to his feet and beating his chest. “Call me what instrument you will,” he said, stalking around his cooking fire and staring down Ivan, standing with his face inches away. “Though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.”

“You have not seen my fretwork, friend,” Ivan said quietly, in the icy tone which made the listener’s mind translate “friend” to “comrade.”

John stared unblinking for several seconds, then turned back and crouched by his fire.

“I have, actually,” he said, poking at the coals again. “It’s sloppy.”

Ivan chuckled.

“Who’s next on your list?” John asked.

“You know there’s no substitute for you,” Ivan said.

“I know you have a back-up plan.” He sighed. “How’s Mama?”

“Imperiled.”

“That’s low,” John said, and Ivan knew he had him.