In the cavern below the frozen Canadian Arctic, Jacques Laframboise's face showed the strain of months of intense concentration. Even yesterdays F1 race in Abu Dhabi had not sufficiently revived his mood, the empty bottles of Dom Perignon still rolling on the floor.
Intel from the middle east was arriving faster than he could process it. Things were heating up, getting closer to the edge. In the corner, Svetlana's younger sister Anastasia was fast asleep, her breathing regular now. Why couldn't Svetlana have stayed, he thought wistfully...
High above him, a lone wolf howled. Indeed, the plot thickens.