It was very quiet at the Starbucks several blocks east of the University. The counter man was cleaning up where a latte had spilled during the last rush of customers. As he rinsed the sticky dishcloth he tried not to think about the two more hours 'til closing, tried hard to remember the name of the redhead with the green REI parka who had come by earlier in the evening and dropped the cryptic reference to a visit she had recently made to Jim Morrison's tomb at Pere La Chaise cemetery and, because he was trying so hard to put all this together, he paid no attention to the two men who sat in the far corner of the shop.

It might have been a simple sexual thing - the younger of the two men had a certain rough trade look while the older man had a menacing "been there done that" presence that could justify such a conclusion - simple being of course a subjective term at least as far as sex things went - but it wasn't about sex and it wasn't so simple. It wasn't about sex at all. But it was about domination.

"We think he is getting close."

The older man had an accent you might have imagined as belonging to a KGB agent in maybe a Chevy Chase movie. If this was what you had imagined how surprised would you be to learn that you were right - he was KGB - or close enough since it wasn't really that easy for bonafide KGB to actually slip into a coffee shop in Seattle without attracting a crowd. The last thing this man wanted was a crowd, and since he was good at what he did, there wasn't one - just him and his operative. And the counter man. The older man continued.

"Our analysis of the information you have provided us from the last five expeditions, the paper he presented last year in London and reports he has retrieved recently from the Nation Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration makes us believe that he has narrowed his search down to the Beaufort."

He paused to sip at his espresso. "And that he has a great deal of confidence that this is where many years of Arctic gyre activity would bring his target."

The blonde man stirred his coffee idly with the wooden paddle that Starbucks provided. He had said very little since the two men had met and continued to remain silent.

"If he finds what he is looking for we want to be there."

Here the blonde tried to interrupt unsuccessfully.

"But what good will finding a ... "

Espresso raised his hand. It was a simple gesture but the threat was so obvious that the counter man looked over from his reverie of lizard kings and red heads.

"Don't say anything. You don't need to know anymore. You have your instructions and know how to contact us if what we are hoping for comes to pass."

Espresso took another sip. After a moment of staring across the table silently and perhaps not quite sure that his guest realized the importance and gravity of where things were going decided to tell a little more.

"There are big things coming in our country. The Soviet Union is on the threshold of a great transformation. Certain things need to be laid to rest and", here Espresso paused like an extremely bad actor the blonde had seen in a recent university stage production, "there are certain artifacts of monumental significance that any discovery he makes in the Arctic may lead us to."

Satisfied that he had got his message across and made the impression he had intended the older man tossed back what was left of his espresso and stood up to go. When he saw that the blonde was not making any effort to leave he shook a pointed finger once in the face of the younger man then turned and strode out of the shop. The blonde man sat and stared out into the night rain for almost another hour while he slowly finished his coffee.