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“I am ready to love again. But first I would have to find the most amazing woman.” Sokolov looked directly at Lacey. “I see you are not ready to talk about this yet, Smithsonian. But you know who I mean.”
“What kind of woman, Nikolai?” Lacey thought her heart stopped for a moment. Now it was racing again.
“The woman I could love has special abilities. To see who people are by the clothes they wear and the clothes they create. She would have an extra sense about these things, and she can remain calm when faced with—unexpected information. She would be very beautiful to look at. She would have an intellect I could admire. You are the only woman who captures my imagination, Lacey.”
Oh my God. “Please, Nikolai.”
“Very well, for now. We have much more to discuss. Amy Keaton, for one.”
Lacey willed her heart to keep beating. “Yes. Amy Keaton.”
“I suspected you knew about her. Quick, not painful. Everybody believed it was an accident. But for Lacey Smithsonian, it was possibly too close to the method I used for Saige. Perhaps a misstep. But what could the two women possibly have in common?”
“The red dress,” she said.
“The red dress. Amy knew that gown was never to be sold.”
“She was afraid of you.”
“Yes, even though I was never mean to her. Never a cross word. I suppose she sensed something. Then when the costume was gone, her excuses were pathetic. She put the dress on the rack by mistake, tried to get it back, bungled that too, behaved like a crazy woman. So unlike the way she ran our shows. She was a good stage manager, but I cannot tolerate sloppiness. Or fear.”
“I can see that.” What would he do if he knew it was actually Yuri who ditched the dress?
“You have seen my creation. Saige’s beautiful dress.” It wasn’t a question.
“I was with LaToya, when she fell in love with it.”
“Then why wasn’t it in her apartment?” He leveled his blue gaze at her.
“When you broke in on Sunday night?”
“Yes. Of course you knew that.” Sokolov seemed amused, not angry.
“The burglary at LaToya’s was very theatrical,” she said. “Setting her clothes around the room, her shoes and accessories. Stuffing them so they looked alive.”
“It was fun. Hard to resist. You saw them.” He waved his glass like a baton and smiled. “Obviously I wanted her to know someone had been there.”
“You accomplished that. And you freaked her out.”
“And you?”
“Me too. I’m glad you didn’t hurt her.”
“She’s a lovely creature. There was no reason to hurt her. However, I was annoyed that my costume wasn’t there.”
“LaToya said she’s a light sleeper, she wakes at the slightest noise. But she didn’t. How did you do that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Insightful, Lacey. It would not do to have her wake up. I may have used something to render her unconscious for a while. I’m afraid that is a trade secret.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Still, why wasn’t the dress there? Let me think. If I were your friend LaToya Crawford, someone who worked with you and knew of your capabilities and your history, perhaps I would ask you to look at the dress for me and— Approve it? Or research it, or something like that?” Sokolov grinned as she broke eye contact. “Maybe she asked you to keep it for her for a while. Do you have the dress, Lacey? I won’t be angry, I promise, I just want it back.”
“It’s not in my possession, but I’ve seen it.”
“And it revealed itself to you. After all, clothes tell you stories. What did it tell you?”
Lying would be pointless, she decided. It might simply enrage him. The result might be unpredictable, whereas sitting calmly and telling each other stories was much more civilized. She put her hands in her lap, carefully calculating how easily she could extract the paper mask and the little bottle.
“I did examine the dress. And I found something hidden there.”
“Go on.”
“I found medals. Medals with Lenin’s face. I didn’t understand what they meant.”
“You contacted Gregor Kepelov?”
“He’s a friend. And he’s the only one I knew who might be able to tell me about the medals. Empty medals.”
Sokolov snorted. “Kepelov seems like such a comedian. But it’s an act. He is no fool. He told you about the poison needles, I presume.” Again it was a statement. “And yet you didn’t go to the police.”
“They were empty. I didn’t really know what to tell them yet. How long have you known Gregor Kepelov?”
“Only recently were we formally introduced. You were there, Lacey. But he had never known me by my real name. We knew each other by reputation only. You keep dangerous company.”
Lacey felt her eyes open wide. “Apparently I do. Present company included.”
“Indeed, but I have tremendous respect for you.”
“There were seven Lenins,” Lacey said.
He nodded. “That is my count.”
“Including Saige? What about Amy?”
“Unfortunately, the dress was missing. I still have the hollow medal that contained that needle. I’ll show it to you, if you like.”
“She was a sad little woman.”
“I spared her a sad little life.”
“But that’s not your call.”
“I disagree. In this case it was my call.” He reached for the bottle and poured himself more champagne. “May I pour for you?”
She nodded. He filled her glass, but she left it untouched.
“Are you angry that I found them?” Her throat was sore from being so dry.
“Not angry. Impressed. You know some of my secrets, so now I can tell you many more things.”
“There are six other Lenins. Who do they represent?”
“No one you would know. Only a few key assignments, accomplishments that are important to me in one way or another.”
There really are more deaths. “Your greatest hits? So the dress is your trophy?”
“I don’t like that word. It’s not like I put stuffed heads on my walls.”
“A memorial then?” That’s what Marie had said.
“If you like.” Sokolov shifted in his seat. “Or an accounting.”
“An accounting? Are you talking about the Centipede?”
He reached for her hand, but she drew it back. “Very impressive. You have been busy.”
“Are you the Centipede?”
“The Centipede is dead. Would you prefer it if I were that legendary character?”
“I would prefer the truth.”
“Of course you would. Ever the journalist. Where did you hear that name, I wonder? The Centipede never existed, not officially. And of course now he is dead, and I, Nikolai Sokolov, am very much alive.”
“You’ve had other names,” she said.
“Many.”
“And one of them was the Centipede.”
He spread his hands wide. “According to Gregor Kepelov? There are unsuspected depths to that man. But the Centipede does not exist. Because there is no proper accounting of him. No proper recognition. Only empty medals in a red dress. Perhaps he should exist.”
“Nikolai Sokolov exists.”
“He has only minor accomplishments. Costumes. Makeup. Illusions.”
“Disguises,” Lacey said. “A man of a thousand faces.” Which face was she seeing? She strained to listen for Vic’s footsteps, anyone’s footsteps, but she heard nothing.
“You flatter me. I am not only Sokolov. I am a myth. I am no man’s friend. I am not recognized. There are no records of my deeds. Should we not keep a record, even of the monsters in this world?”
“Is that how you see yourself, Sokolov? A monster?”
“Not when I’m with you. I’m flattered that you sought out the secrets of the red dress. That you cared enough to explore it. And to find me.”
“You still want the dress back?”
“I hate loose ends.”
“Then why lend it to all those actresses?”
“My pretty little flowers, yes. Wearing my masterpiece. All innocence and hope.”
“Innocence? Wearing a record of your kills?” A slight shrug. “Who were the others?”
“Not all at once, Lacey. Too much information. We have plenty of time.”
“The Russian billionaire who was beaten to death in his hotel room in D.C.?”
“I believe the official cause of death was a heart attack,” he said. “A condition that could have been brought on by a beating. So many heart attacks in Washington among the Russian community. Yes, he was one of my assignments, but believe me, he was an asshole. You would have thought so too. For now it’s enough that I have found a woman who understands me. That is my confession.”
Oh, he really doesn’t know how this confession thing works, Lacey thought.
“I’m not a priest. I can’t absolve you.”
“You can forgive me. You understand me, and to understand is to forgive. Don’t you agree?”
Vic should have been here by now. I’m on my own.
“Hold that thought. I really have to go.” She stood up quickly. But Sokolov was quicker. He overturned the table and the glasses with a crash, and suddenly he was right in front of her, face to face, grabbing her arms.
“My dear Lacey, that won’t be possible.” She tried to step away, tried to pull free, but he was too close, too strong. He kissed her mouth. Urgently. “Don’t be afraid of me, Lacey. Do you know how beautiful you are? How you move me? How you’ve changed me?”
She shook her head desperately. Did he say that to Saige before he killed her? Where did he have the next poison needle?
“That was too abrupt of me, I can see.” Sokolov brushed her lips with his fingers. “I apologize, Lacey. But I cannot let you go. Not just yet. You cannot leave.”
He released her and she took a step back. She needed space between them. Enough space to reach the bottle in her pocket. Enough space to use it.
“What do you think you’re doing? You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“And I won’t hurt you. I’m certainly not going to kill you, if that’s what you think. I have a place for you here.”
“A place? What are you talking about?”
“Here. In the townhouse, connected to the theatre. Upstairs there is a third floor with a private suite. Bath, bedroom, a small kitchen. A private staircase. It’s mine, I live there sometimes.”
The heat was becoming oppressive. Sweat was running in rivulets down her neck. Sokolov’s forehead was wet, his white makeup coursing down his face in streaks.
“You are not keeping me here.”
“But it’s very pleasant and secure up there. Very soundproof. You can’t even hear our shows from up there, and you know how loud Yuri’s music can be.”
“You’re mad.”
“Maybe. But I know what I want and I want you, Lacey.”
“I’m engaged.”
“Yes. To me. I will give you opals that match your eyes.”
She pushed away from him and darted right through the nearest clothing rack, into another aisle of costumes. She sprinted for the door. Where is it?!
He called after her, laughing. “You can’t run away from me, Lacey. But I admire your spirit.”
She couldn’t remember all the turns and twists they had taken on their way to the table. Sokolov was pursuing her, but not in a hurry. The closet was a maze of racks of clothes, she was getting dizzy, she was hot. She ducked through racks from aisle to aisle and tore clothes from their hangers.
“You will get used to my ways,” she heard him calling out behind her. “You will grow to love me. In time.”
“There isn’t that much time in the universe,” she yelled back. Save your breath, Lacey! She wiped her face. Keep running. He was too close, just a yard or two away. She grabbed a heavy brocade coat from a rack and turned and threw it over him. He stopped to peel it off his face and held it up to examine it, streaked with his white makeup.
“Is that any way to treat poor Falstaff?”
“You don’t want me, Nikolai.”
“I do. Really. You have a great spirit. And know this, my darling, I always get what I want.” He dropped the brocade coat and flicked away the feathers of the red mask. “There have always been women wanting to crowd my bed. Much too easy. You’re a challenge. You are so much smarter than Saige.”
Let’s hope so. She stepped back, sliding her hand into her skirt pocket for the little spray bottle. He stepped toward her confidently, and with her free hand she grabbed clothes at random and threw them in his face, shirts, scarves, hats. Where the hell is the door?!
Sokolov reached out for her. She dove right into a rack of black velvet gowns and tumbled out into the next aisle. When she stood up, she saw this aisle was right up against the wall, and she had no idea where the door was. She leaned against the wall. Nowhere else to go. Her legs were shaking and her hands were slick with sweat.
She lifted the spray bottle of Kepelov’s secret juice to eye level with her finger on the button. With her left hand she slapped a paper respirator over her face, pinching the metal clip over her nose. She looped the elastic over her head and waited. Her wait was less than a second.
“Don’t you know you can’t hide from me? This is my kingdom!” Sokolov bellowed, only feet away. He ripped open the curtain of black clothes and thrust his head through the gap. He stared at the paper mask on her face and frowned. “Another mask?”
Lacey pressed the button hard and sprayed him right in the face. Bull’s eye.
Sokolov’s eyes registered utter astonishment, just before they rolled back in his head. He crumpled and fell to the floor. She looked down at his prone figure, holding the mask tightly to her face.
Now what, she wondered. Do I tie him up? Spray him again?
Finally she heard the sound she’d been waiting for.
Footsteps.
