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“I grew up in Yaroslavl, Soviet Union. Fair-sized city northeast of Moscow. I was born in 1970, and by the time I was nine, both my parents were dead.” Leslie stared out of the passenger window as Noah randomly drove with no destination in mind. He just wanted to cover as much distance as possible.
“They called the orphanage Baby House No. 1, and it was the cruelest place you could ever imagine. They didn’t consider children as human.” Leslie paused to run a hand through her hair and shrugged. “There was a standard to maintain. If you did not meet the standard, you were separated from the others and denied food, clothing, even personal contact. So, when the state chose me for further education before I turned twelve, I leaped at the chance. For the next ten years, the SVR trained me at the Institute in Moscow.”
Noah followed the flow of traffic and merged onto the I65 North. Any direction was good.
“Long story short, I was flown to America and eventually became Leslie Taylor.”
“How did you meet Joe?”
She gave out a sharp bark of laughter. “It was arranged. After twenty years together, I will say we became fond of each other, but that was it. However, we periodically slept together in a moment of weakness or a mutual sense of need. So, naturally, our handlers weren’t pleased, and we prepared for the worst when they found out I was pregnant.”
Leslie grew silent and stared out the passenger window. Noah didn’t need for her to elaborate on ‘the worst.’ He guessed the bodies would never have been found.
“What was your mission?”
She sighed and met his gaze. “I was a spy and sent information back to the Soviet Union. At least, I think that’s where it ended up. I was never told.”
Leslie studied him for a reaction. Noah’s mind spun in circles. He was currently aiding and abetting a foreign agent on American soil. That was enough to classify him as a traitor and be charged with espionage as a co-conspirator. The sinking feeling boiled in his stomach.
“Where do you work?”
Leslie folded her hands on her lap and cleared her throat first before answering. “The White House.”
Noah’s foot came off the accelerator and hovered above the brake pedal. The vehicle slowed as he processed the information. The decision to stop the car and kick her out was hard to overcome, but he did. A thumb clicked the cruise control, and they resumed speed.
“Who took your daughter?”
“I never found out. I was told any attempt to learn where Angela went—they would kill her.”
Noah held back a groan as the conflict warred inside. Logic fought against emotion.
Leslie added. “Joe never told me, but I think he knew what happened. We were both too fearful of what they would do to our daughter.”
“Where did he work?”
For a moment, she did not answer as the miles slowly passed. “He officially never said, but I put the clues together year after year. I think he worked for the FBI or the CIA.”