the Russian. Dude had made his point. Had he ever.
The door swung open. Irlov stepped inside. He wore a wool knit cap and a short peacoat, a strangely stylish combination. All dressed up. Maybe he had a date with Eve coming up. The trouble that one had caused, and Brian’s mouth still went dry when he thought about her.
Brian didn’t ask how Irlov had gotten the key, how he could be sure they hadn’t been followed. At this point if Irlov said he had chips implanted in every FBI agent in D.C., Brian would have believed him.
“Comrade.” Since Brian’s return to the SVR fold, Irlov had taken to using the word. Another way to remind Brian he was owned, now and forever.
“Colonel.”
“I hope you don’t mind if we begin right away.”
The false, mincing courtesy was another affectation that irritated Brian. “Question. If I may.”
Irlov turned his hands outward, the gesture of a lord tolerating an uppity serf.
“You know the bureau is chasing this great new Russian asset.”
“Naturally. Enough operations fail, even the FBI notices.”
“Any reason they would think he’s inside the CIA?”
“Why do you ask this, Brian?” Now the hint of an accent slipped into Irlov’s voice, proof the question had surprised him.
“Just that my wife has had more meetings than usual at Langley recently.”
A lie. The reason he asked, the week before Becks had—more or less out of nowhere— mentioned the mole again. Looks like Ames the sequel, she’d said. Meaning Aldrich Ames, the CIA officer now locked in a federal penitentiary for betraying the agency to the Russians.
How is Ames these days? Brian said.
Oh, lots of time to regret his choices.
The way she’d said it bugged Brian. Even though he should have felt better hearing it. More accurately, because he should have felt better hearing it. It was so… convenient. Nothing for him to worry about, the bureau wasn’t even looking at the NSA.
Plus, last week Becks had flown to Los Angeles, a quick thirty-six-hour work trip, out one morning, back the next night. She’d never had a case in Southern California before. And she’d been more than typically cryptic about it. And yeah, she’d been in the SoCal office. At one point she’d called him from there. Which was weird too, nobody used landlines anymore, almost like she was trying to prove where she was.
But why would Rebecca lie to him?
Only one reason, as far as he could see.
Funny, the other reason, the one that would have bugged most guys, that Becks was spending quality time with a special friend in the Los Angeles bureau, hadn’t even occurred to him. And even now that he’d thought of it he couldn’t worry about it. Because, really, if that’s what she was doing, at this point good for her.
On the other hand, if Rebecca had somehow gotten onto him—
But he didn’t want to tell Irlov he was worried about Becks. So he was lying to Irlov, too. Lying to his case officer about his wife possibly lying to him… he could see why people got caught. After a while you needed a spreadsheet just to keep the stories straight.
“Brian. Do you have any concerns about Rebecca?”
“None.”
“Certain?”
“We’re getting along great.” True enough. All through the fall and winter they’d been hanging out a lot, and not just for sex. They even had a favorite show, Stranger Things.
“All right. Because, yes, we appreciate her information, but the NSA—you are the Tsar’s heir.”
“The what now?”
“I believe Americans say ‘golden boy.’ ”
Brian laughed. Was Irlov suggesting the Russians would kill Rebecca if he asked? Brian didn’t want to find out. Whatever was going on, whatever might be going on, lay between him and his wife.
“I understand. Colonel. Another question.” He’d held off on asking too long. Now he wanted to know.
“You think my time is worthless.” Irlov smiled, but his eyes didn’t. Ask quick.
“At the end, with Kira—”
“Oh, Jacques had a buyer for her. We were going to sell her.”
Brian rose half from the bed.
“Sit, please.”
Brian sat, the voice in his head: Good dog.
“Did she ever tell you the full story? What she did, how she got out? We have a saying, you learn from those you live with. She learned fast. She realized Rodrigo was weak, that if she could get him alone… maybe she’ll tell you one day.”
“But what if she hadn’t?”
“The truth? Jacques would have fought with Rodrigo, shot him. Come on, Brian, we aren’t monsters.” Irlov smiled, a smile that said, Or are we? You’ll never know. He looked at