TWENTY-ONE
“Hello, my friend.”
“Ivan.” From behind my dark glasses I shot him a sideways glance. “You’re looking well.”
He snorted. “For now.”
Hands clasped in front of me in reverence for the departed—whoever the unfortunate bloke was—I stood far enough behind the mourners I could whisper and not disturb those listening to the preacher standing in front of the open plot and the flower-covered coffin.
“Anyone you know?” I asked.
“No. It was the right time and day . . .” He shrugged.
“And we’re here instead of the park why?” I tipped my head to peer at Ivan over the top of my sunglasses.
Ivan caught my glare and said, “Just being extra cautious, as you say.”
I couldn’t argue. He’d put his life on the line by working with me.
This was a dangerous era to be an informant—not that there’d ever been a safe one. But we were living in surreal times. An age when journalists who’d done nothing more than criticize the Kremlin were faking their own death to avoid assassination.
All the more reason to wrap up our business.
“Now that we have been extra cautious, do you have something for me?” I asked as low as possible.
“Perhaps.”
Another glance at Ivan showed me he was smiling. Or as close to a smile as a man who indeed looked like old Ebenezer could.
He was being coy. That had to be good. He wouldn’t be joking if he’d failed.
My heart raced with anticipation. “Tell me.”
He leaned in and whispered a man’s name. A name I didn’t recognize.
At my frown, Ivan continued, “He’s former CIA. For a price he offered to sell me information that he said my friends back home would find useful.”
Since Ivan was former KGB/FFV, I too was interested in what his friends back home would find useful. “What was it?”
“A list.”
Two simple words but they made my blood run cold. “A list of what?” I feared I knew the answer already.
“The names and locations of undercover agents working around the world.”
I mumbled out a low curse that was completely inappropriate for a funeral, but definitely called for given the enormity of this information.
“US agents?” I asked, trying to get a sense of how big this list might be.
He shook his head. “No. The name of every foreign operative the CIA is aware of.”
Jesus. I blew out a breath. I needed to call the home office. More, I needed to prevent this traitor from selling that list.
“How did you leave things?” I asked.
“We’re to meet again tomorrow. I’m to report back with the amount my friend would be willing to pay for such information.”
Smart traitor. Let the Kremlin name the price so he doesn’t undercut himself by demanding too little for the information. Too bad he wasn’t going to get to spend any of it.
Ivan’s gaze cut to me. “What are you planning?”
“You’re going to buy that list, and once you have it, hopefully I’ll be allowed to kill him.”
He nodded. “Good plan.”
I thought so.
I drew in a deep breath and stared at the coffin as I idly wondered how many more good years I had before I ended up in a box.
Ivan frowned. “Something wrong with you?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“I’m trained to read people, my friend. My life depends upon it.”
Mine too. And my life and safety depended upon me being able to effectively mask my feelings. I’d apparently failed miserably in that area if Ivan noticed.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. Do I need to worry? Should I cancel the meeting?” His already wrinkled brow creased with a deep frown.
“No. No, I promise. It’s . . . personal.”
It killed me to admit that. I did it anyway. I had to. My ridiculous emotions were going to sink this deal if I didn’t tell Ivan something.
I turned to make sure I hadn’t spooked him. This deal was too important. But he was smiling broadly.
Probably not the most appropriate expression for an attendee at a funeral. Luckily we were behind everyone—and out of earshot since this had become quite the long and involved conversation.
“Ah, it’s about a woman.” He nodded, a knowing expression on his face.
Now it was my turn to frown. I restrained myself from asking him why he’d guessed that. He was, as he’d said, well trained in reading people. Retirement hadn’t changed that.
I tried a different tact other than fruitless denial. “So since you’re so good at people, tell me. What the hell do I do?”
“Fuck her?”
In spite of myself I had to smother a laugh at his blunt statement. I shook my head and said, “And what do I do after that.”
“Marry her.”
That did surprise me. I turned my gaze to him. “Not what I thought you’d say.”
“Why not? I’ve never seen you like this in all the time I’ve known you. And how long is that?”
“We’ve been working together for two years.”
But I’d studied Ivan for years prior to that. It was no coincidence that when he retired and moved to New York to be with his daughter and granddaughter, who’d landed a spot with the New York City Ballet, that I’d followed shortly after.
I’d had my eye on him to be turned for a long time. I had seen his potential years before from the conversations we monitored, the things he said, the choices he made.
The actions he took, and more importantly those he didn’t take, were all indicative of a man who wasn’t one-hundred percent on board with the current leadership of his organization or his country.
“If this woman can distract you from something this important, the only way to fix it is to give in. Make her yours. Then you can get on with work.”
Parts of what he said did have merit. Would making Chelsea mine finally cure me of this—whatever this was that affected me to distraction?
But there were issues Ivan wasn’t aware of.
I couldn’t tell him there were more problems. Namely the home office shutting down US operations for the time being. I trusted Ivan—but only to a certain extent.
It was better to let him think I was traveling to London to deliver the list and report on the case, not because I’d been recalled indefinitely.
I couldn’t ask Chelsea to give up her life here to follow me to London, any more than I could drag her around the world every time I had to relocate.
Then there were the short-term assignments that could last months during which I’d be off the grid and she’d be alone in a strange city.
How could I abandon her for that long after I’d uprooted her and she’d left her job, her friends and her family for me?
Christ, I was selfish. Here I was assuming she’d be willing to give up everything for me, without once even considering my giving up anything for her.
But now that the idea had crossed my mind, I didn’t hate it.
“Before you retired, would you have ever considered leaving the job for a woman?” I asked.
Ivan let out a chuckle. “I did. Only the woman was my daughter, not my lover. Love, between a man and a woman, or a father and a daughter, is a powerful thing. It makes us do things we never would have considered before. No?”
Love. I hadn’t let myself seriously consider the possibility. I’d barely let myself think the word before now.
I was certainly thinking it now.