July 2nd – 4:12 PM – Moscow, Russia
“I want an update.” The rain continued to pelt the earth and the river outside was rising to a dangerous level. If the rain didn’t stop, the banks would flood. Again.
“There isn’t anything to update you on. We’re still searching for her.”
Svoloch. The job needed an expert, not an incompetent idiot. Was a trip to the US in order? No, it was too soon after Korolev’s death to take the risk. The threat of a flood made staying in Moscow a priority. “How hard can it be to find one woman?”
No response.
Stupid man. Remaining calm was difficult. The incessant rain didn’t help. “Is Nevsky still in jail?”
“Yeah. They didn’t let him out on bail.”
Good. At least one part of the plan was working. Soon all the power would be within grasp. But the woman needed to be found.
And silenced. Permanently.
A task that should have been done years ago or they wouldn’t be in this situation now.
“Find her. Call me every day until you find her.”
“Sure thing. Don’t worry, the next time we talk I’m sure I’ll have good news.”
“I hope so. Otherwise I might assume you are no longer of any use to me.”
“Don’t get hasty.” The underlying panic in his tone was perfect. “There are still a few days left before the deadline. I’ll get the job done.”
“You’d better. Or I won’t hesitate to replace you.”
Of course, the mole would be replaced soon anyway, but he didn’t need to know that. Not until the job was finished.
Not until Natalia was dead.
July 2nd – 4:13 PM – Washington, DC
“Great. Now I’ll never get my money.” Natalia couldn’t believe the way Sloan casually sipped his beer as if nothing were wrong. “Jerk.”
“Hey, at least you know he’s not spending it.” The mammoth Asian man behind the bar actually laughed. “The fool was bragging about the sweet deal he’d made for the car too. Guess the car had the last laugh.”
The car. A sudden icy coldness slid down her spine. Sloan’s car? The one they’d traded for the awful rusty cargo van?
“When did this happen, anyway?” Sloan set his half full beer on the bar. “Didn’t see any cops or fire trucks outside when we pulled up.”
“Late last night, close to bar time.” The Asian puffed out his chest. “Did my best business last night, right under the nose of all those cops. You shoulda seen it. Twas a beautiful thing.”
“You’re the man.” Sloan grinned back at him.
“You bet.” The big Asian nodded. “You ever need anything, come to me. I’ll set you up, sweet.”
She poked Sloan in the ribs. Were they going to stand here in this filthy bar all day? Slammer had died because they’d switched vehicles. She felt sick at the thought of indirectly causing another man’s death. Not that Slammer was completely innocent, but he certainly didn’t deserve to die.
“Whad’ya want?” Sloan frowned at her then gave an elaborate sigh. “Guess the old lady wants out of here. Catch you later maybe, for that sweet deal.” Sloan sent the bartender a sly wink.
Old lady? She narrowed her gaze and held her tongue. Barely.
The Asian shrugged, then picked up her untouched soft drink and downed it himself, emptying the glass with one chug. “Yeah, sure. Later.”
With relief, she headed toward the door as Sloan stayed protectively behind her the entire time. The moment they were outside, she turned to ask him about the car. He shocked her by covering her mouth with his.
“Not here,” he whispered before drawing away. “Come on, let’s pick up the Metro.”
Irritated at how he’d managed to leave her breathless with his unexpected kiss, she followed him to the subway station. Sloan had grabbed her hand again, keeping a brisk pace. At the train station, they had to wait for the next train, so she found an isolated spot where they could talk.
“Slammer died because we gave him your car, didn’t he?” Natalia kept her voice low.
“Yeah.” Sloan glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Whoever torched him didn’t do their homework, though. They should have known we weren’t in the car. Which is a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. Even a rookie Fed would have made sure before taking such a drastic step.” He shrugged. “Maybe we’re not responsible after all. Slammer could have ticked off one of his low-life customers. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She didn’t ask what sort of customers Slammer had because she suspected she didn’t want to know exactly what wares he’d sold. “This is horrible.”
“No different than the other deaths.” Sloan gripped her hand in his. “We didn’t do anything, Natalia. Remember that. We’re victims, here. You and I didn’t set that bomb.”
He was right. She let out her breath in a sigh. They hadn’t blown up the car. And if Sloan’s observations were correct, she wasn’t sure who had.
“What did the bartender mean? About doing his best business under their noses.”
Sloan grimaced and sent her a sidelong glance. “He pulled one over on the cops, selling drugs while they were right outside.”
Drugs? It bothered her that Sloan knew about that. Why not call the police? Let them know what was going on? “Oh.”
“Don’t get all bent out of shape. I’ve had to hang around these guys to get intel I needed about the Russian Mafia. It’s not like I’m involved in any criminal activity.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Sloan narrowed his gaze and changed the subject. “We need to go through Alek’s things, see what we can come up with. Do you know how to get to his house?”
“Yes.” The subway train pulled up, the noise making it impossible to say anything more. She followed Sloan onto the very crowded car. Seeing how easily Sloan slid into the buddy role with the bartender had bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Not that she was a total prude, but she’d never actually chatted with a known drug dealer before. On occasion, she’d get an ICU patient who had drugs in their possession, but that was the extent of her interaction with the criminal population of DC.
Until now. Drug dealers probably weren’t as bad as violent murderers, she reminded herself. Soulless murderers like the Solntsevskaya. So what if Sloan fit in? She trusted him to help find the man who’d killed Ivan. Which was all that mattered.
Uncle Alek’s house wasn’t far from hers, but it was more than a few miles from the nearest Metro station. “It’s close to Langdon Park. We can’t take the train the whole way though, and it’s too far to walk.”
“We can take a taxi from the Metro station. Can’t use a ride share, as that’s a credit card transaction easily tracked. Regardless, I’m not ready to go back for the van, yet.”
Because he was afraid that vehicle might explode too? She touched the cross at her throat. Lara was right to remind her to have faith in God. He’d watched over her and Sloan for the past few days. She needed to continue to place her faith in His plan.
Her knuckles pressed against the crescent moon pendant. She wished they’d found some answers about her past. Had her parents given her up to avoid being tainted by the Mafia? Why had Josef recognized the pendant? Was her mother out there, somewhere thinking of her? And what about her birth father? Had her mother known who he was? In truth, Natalia knew there was a possibility both her birth father and birth mother were dead, but somehow she couldn’t make herself believe it. Did she have a brother? A sister? The need to know gnawed at her.
Natalia closed her eyes, the throbbing in her head seeming to grow worse. She couldn’t help thinking about Slammer. Ivan. Josef. So many deaths. Such a senseless loss of life. Who else besides the Mafia could be behind all this? And why? For nothing more than money? She didn’t want to believe it.
She didn’t know what Sloan expected to find at Uncle Alek’s. Evidence he was being framed for Josef’s murder? She doubted he’d find anything of the kind. Anyone smart enough to pull that off wasn’t going to leave a bunch of obvious clues behind.
They disembarked from the subway at the Rhode Island Avenue stop then flagged down a taxi. Before they got in, Sloan asked her for the address, and then told the taxi driver to drop them off at Langdon Park.
They didn’t talk until the taxi driver had let them off at the corner of the park. Sloan paid. In cash, then ushered her toward the picnic area where there was an empty table. “Have a seat. We need to go in to your uncle’s house the back way, in case they’ve got someone watching out front. Do you have the key?”
“Yes.” She handed it over. “If they’re watching the house, how are we going to get in?”
“I don’t know.” Sloan glanced around. “Tell me about this area. Is it mostly residential?”
“Yes, except for the Amtrak tracks running along the back of his house. Uncle Alek used to complain about the noise.”
“Okay, tell me exactly where his house is.”
“This would be easier if we had a paper and pencil.” Natalia sighed and drew imaginary lines on the top of the picnic table as she described the layout of the houses on the street. “His is the middle house in the cul-de-sac. It’s red with white trim.”
“All right. We’re going to walk past the back of the house. If things look clear, then we’ll go inside the back way.”
She nodded, anxious to get this little trip over with. “Let’s go, then.”
They walked east a few blocks then crossed the Amtrak train tracks near Franklin Street. Glancing around the area, she didn’t see anything suspicious. There was a line of trees between Alek’s property and the railroad tracks, no doubt planted in an attempt to minimize the noise.
She and Sloan crept up to the trees. Peering through, she recognized the back of Uncle Alek’s house. There wasn’t anyone around as far as she could tell.
“I bet they’re sitting out front, if at all. There’s no place to park a car back here to watch the back door.”
She had to agree. “Let’s just hope the key works for the back door.”
They crossed the lawn, moving quickly. “When we get inside, no lights and no talking, in case they have the house bugged.”
She widened her eyes and nodded. Sloan slid the key into the lock and opened the door. They stepped inside and Sloan closed the door behind them.
Moving silently, they crept through the house. Natalia took the lead since she knew the layout. There was a small room that her uncle used as a study, so she took Sloan there first.
The place had already been searched, Natalia noted with dismay. Her uncle’s neat and orderly office was a mess, papers everywhere, and the computer that usually sat on the desk was gone. Sloan’s expression turned grim, but he went through the paperwork anyway. She picked up a few of the papers scattered on the floor and noticed one was a medical bill from Washington Hospital.
She didn’t recognize the doctor’s name but noticed the bill was for laboratory work. She couldn’t help wondering what was wrong. Normally Uncle Alek sought her out when he came to Washington Hospital, but apparently not this time.
Sloan was still going through papers. He then went down on his hands and knees to examine the area around the desk. He pulled out a piece of paper that was trapped between the desk and the wall. Grabbing her arm, he thrust the paper into her hands.
It was a letter written in Russian. Cyrillic Russian. She didn’t understand everything written in the note but one thing was clear.
The letter was dated three weeks ago, addressed to Alek Nevsky and was signed by Josef Korolev.
Stunned, she stared at the undeniable connection. Uncle Alek had corresponded with Josef Korolev.
And was now in jail for Josef’s murder.
July 2nd – 5:38 PM – Washington, DC
“You shouldn’t be here.” Alek stared at his wife, wishing he could break through the barrier separating them to gather her in his arms. “Don’t do this to yourself. Stay away from me.”
“I can’t stay away, Alek.” Lara gave him a watery smile and put her hand up onto the glass. “I had to come. I needed to see you. To talk to you.”
He placed his hand over the glass too, in the same spot as hers. Since he’d been about to die of loneliness, he couldn’t argue. Even though he knew Lara’s coming to the jail where he was being held was risky.
“Did you talk to our favorite relative?” He was aware law enforcement officials were watching and listening to their conversation. He dropped his hand. For all he knew, they’d tapped the phone too. If so, they already knew about Natalia.
“Yes. She’s doing wonderful. She has a new man in her life.” Lara’s smile was strained. “I think you’d like him.”
A new man? Was she trying to tell him Natalia wasn’t alone? He wasn’t sure if the news was a good sign or a bad one. “So you told her what she needed to know?”
Lara bit her lip and shook her head. “There wasn’t time, they were in a rush, but I will. I promise. If you could see how happy she is, you wouldn’t worry.”
They were in a rush? Because they were on the run? He couldn’t help but worry. Natalia was in terrible danger but he didn’t dare speak of it now.
“I’ll try not to worry. But it’s difficult. She’s so special to me. Like a daughter.”
“I know.” Lara tightened her grip on her purse. “They will only let me stay a short time. But it’s not nearly enough, Alek. I want to get you out of here. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
He swallowed a groan because he very badly wanted the same thing. To get out of this awful place amongst real criminals. To have one more chance with Lara.
This time he’d make a better choice. This time he would put his marriage first.
But it was too late. They weren’t going to let him out. Once there was room in the federal prison he’d be transferred over there and held until his trial. Hopelessness washed over him.
“I know, milaya moya.” Dearest one. “I wish I could have a second chance too.” He drew himself upright. “But there is nothing you can do. You must not come here again. This isn’t healthy. You left me, and now you must continue to make a life for yourself without me.”
“You ask too much,” Lara whispered.
His heart soared. Did she really mean it? He forced himself to look stern. “I only ask you to live your life. And if I’m proven innocent of this horrible crime, then we’ll start over again. From the very beginning.”
“Yes.” Lara sniffled, her eyes bright with tears. “I’d like that, Alek.”
Having Lara so near yet so far was torture. He couldn’t stand for her to see him like this so he stood, indicating he was ready to return to his cell. “Go home, Lara. Don’t come back here again.”
She was openly crying as he walked away.
By the time he’d reached his cell, his cheeks were wet with tears too.
July 2nd – 5:56 PM – Washington, DC
Sloan didn’t know how much of the letter Natalia could read, but he knew they were finally on to something. He took the letter from her and tucked it into his pocket. There would be time to talk about the contents later. For right now, it was enough for him to know Josef and Alek knew each other at least enough to respond to letters on a one-on-one basis. What else had the FBI missed? He bent over the desk, intent on continuing the search.
Outside the study, the floor creaked loudly from the weight of a footstep.
He froze. Natalia’s eyes widened with fear and she grasped his arm in a tight grip. He quickly scanned their options. The closed door was the only exit from the room, unless you counted the small window across from the door. One glance confirmed the window faced the back of the house with a clear view of the line of trees separating the yard from the railroad tracks.
They could make a break for it. If there weren’t agents already swarming the perimeter of the house, waiting and ready to pounce.
He tried not to think the worst, slid his gun out of his shoulder holster and stood behind the door to listen. If there was only one person on the other side, they had a good chance of getting away.
Natalia let go of his arm and crossed over to the window. Pushing up on the sill, she eased the frame upward. He held his breath, waiting for the telltale noise to alert the intruder to their presence.
Maintaining his stance behind the door, he waited. Natalia sent him a panicked look when the window stuck, only halfway up.
He nodded, indicating she should continue to push it open.
She hesitated, obviously torn. From the corner of his eye he noticed a slight movement. He quickly gestured for her to get away from the window as the doorknob continued to turn.
Natalia didn’t move fast enough. The door opened and she was caught against the window like a rabbit in a snare. Sloan saw a hand holding a gun as the intruder came through the door. Natalia gasped, diverting the attention of the intruder long enough for him to attack.
He grabbed the hand holding the gun and yanked the guy off balance, using the door as a weapon, slamming it against the guy’s face.
“Omph.” Their assailant groaned, but shoved the door back at him in an effort to get free.
Knocked off balance, Sloan nearly lost his hold on the guy’s gun hand. He reared forward, putting all his weight behind the action, pressing his thumb into the sensitive area between the guy’s thumb and forefinger.
“Argh!” The guy opened his hand and dropped the gun at the same time he kicked Sloan in the stomach, breaking his grip. Sloan didn’t go down, but steadied his grip on his gun.
“Don’t.” Sloan aimed his gun square in the center of the guy’s forehead. “I have nothing to lose. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
The assailant must have believed him because he went completely still. Sloan kicked the gun out of his reach.
“Natalia. Pick up the gun.” He didn’t take his eyes off the FBI agent. Ethan Wilcox. He recognized him as one of the agents working the Josef Korolev event. “Who sent you here?”
“The same people who hired you, originally.” Wilcox smirked. “Only now, you’re on the FBI hit list Dreyer. We have orders to shoot to kill, you know.”
Behind him Natalia gasped, but he wasn’t surprised. The FBI hadn’t liked him much when he worked for them, either, especially his boss, Saunders. Something about the way he didn’t care to follow their precious rules. “So why didn’t you?”
Wilcox’s smirk faded. “Hey, all we want is the woman. Turn her over and I’ll let you go, pretend I never saw you.”
Yeah. Right. He believed that like he believed in the tooth fairy and happily ever after. “No way.”
Wilcox raised a brow. “So now what? Are you going to shoot me?”
It was tempting. Very tempting. “Why do you want Natalia?” Sloan stalled for time. Was Wilcox working alone? He braced himself for reinforcements.
Wilcox sneered. “She’s a suspect.”
Yeah, but there was more to this whole thing. Much more. And he wanted to know details. “You want the woman? Fine. Maybe we can make a deal. Trade information.”
Behind him, Natalia sucked in a harsh breath. He didn’t so much as glance at her.
Wilcox narrowed his gaze. “What kind of information?”
“Who told you to bring Natalia in for questioning? Saunders? Bentley?”
Wilcox stared at him.
“Are you working this case alone? Where’s your partner? Isn’t his name Harper?”
Wilcox crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re wasting my time. I’m not giving you jack.”
Sloan swallowed a burst of anger. Arrogant jerk. Clearly, Wilcox wasn’t going to talk. Maybe he just didn’t know anything more than what his superiors told him. One of the things he hated the most about the FBI was everything was on a “need to know” basis. For all he knew, the guy was just following orders.
The way all good agents were supposed to.
Sloan glanced over at Natalia. She stood, holding Wilcox’s gun, her expression uncertain. One of them was going to have to tie Wilcox up while the other held a gun on him. He suspected Natalia didn’t have the nerve to do either. Nor was he willing to let her get too close as he was afraid Wilcox would try to use her as a hostage.
Stalemate.
By the smug expression on the agent’s face, Wilcox knew it.
“Put your hands behind your head.” Sloan ordered, taking a careful step back.
Wilcox did as he was told but Sloan could see he was waiting for the chance to break free.
He lowered the gun a few inches and pulled the trigger.
Natalia screamed almost as loud as Wilcox who grabbed his leg. “What in the—You shot me!”
“Go out through the window, Natalia. Now.”
“But—”
“Now!” He reached behind him to push her toward the window. “He won’t die, I promise. But I’m sure there are several agents already on the way. If we stay you’ll be caught.”
Natalia gave the injured man one last look then crawled through the window. Sloan followed, shoved the gun into his waistband and grabbed her hand.
“Run. We need to get out of here.”