by Zaires, Anna
Ilya tried to reassure me. “She’s not just any woman. She’s one of us. She can handle herself.”
True. She’s not just any woman. I said so myself yesterday in the bathroom when I cornered her. I meant it differently, though. She means something to me, something I can’t name. It’s not the feeling I have for Ilya. It’s more than responsibility and brotherly love. It’s a sense of belonging, of having found the female version of my soul.
Yes, a soulmate. That would’ve been a fitting description if I hadn’t captured her like a bird in a cage. Mina may not be a willing yang to my yin, but she’s mine. I claimed her that night in the alley when I pressed her up against the wall, and I’m keeping her.
No matter what it takes.
“Then we agree?” Anton asks, pulling me back from my thoughts.
“This girl,” the agent says. “She better be as good at disguising as you say, or your plan will blow up in your faces. If Dimitrov suspects for one second—”
“She’s good.” I finish my espresso. “You can take my word for it.”
Mina will have to disguise the two hotel staff members posing as us, as well as herself. We’ll have to do it in a different location. Maybe an apartment nearby. Ilya is already looking into it.
“What’s the timeline?” the agent asks.
Rising, I adjust my jacket. “Three weeks.”
He gets to his feet and shakes my hand. “Text me the date and time. Everything will be ready.”
Anton sees him out. When he gets back to the lounge of the hotel suite we rented for the meeting, I’m reading the email from our hackers about Petrova’s whereabouts. She has a charity ball scheduled in Austria in two weeks’ time. Then the opening of a new art gallery in Vienna. After that, she’s planning a vacation in Spain to work on her tan. It looks like Natasha Petrova will be making a deviation in her traveling plans. She can definitely work in a secret visit to Prague before hitting Puerto Banús.
By the time the paparazzi catches her on camera, sipping champagne with Antonio Banderas and Nicole Kimpel on their luxury yacht in the glamorous port, Dimitrov will already be dead.
19
Mina
Every second counts. I give Ilya about an hour before he realizes I’m not coming back. That means I have a one-hour head start. Ostrava is more than a three-hour drive away. That gives me four hours before Yan gets back to Prague. By then, I’ll be well on my way. As long as I’m on the move, I’ll maintain a four-hour advantage.
When we drove to the old town, I paid attention to our surroundings, so now I go straight to the electronics store and buy a cheap burner phone. In a quiet alcove, I dial a secure number.
Gergo picks up immediately. “Mink?” He only uses my professional name in the unlikely event that the secure line, a number only the two of us use, is compromised.
“My grandmother would like to invite you for tea,” I say.
“A visit is long overdue. When is a good time?”
“Can you come over at five-thirty?”
“Shall I bring some Earl Grey?” That’s code for weapons. “I’ve recently been to Russia. I stocked up. I know your grandmother doesn’t like the British kind.”
“That’s considerate but not necessary. See you there.”
I cut the call and dump the phone in a trashcan before flagging down a taxi.
“The train station, please,” I tell the driver.
In less than thirty minutes, I’m on the train and on my way to Budapest, the last of Ilya’s money spent on a ticket.
Sick with nerves, I put out of my mind what Yan will do to me when he finds me and focus on my plan.
Get to Budapest. Take care of my grandmother’s future. Warn Gergo.
It would’ve been a piece of cake to slip into a restaurant, nick a steak knife, and cut out the tracker in the bathroom, but I need the money Yan promised me for the job. I need to provide for Hanna, to make sure her needs will be met when I’m no longer around.
At least that’s what I tell myself. I’m not reluctant to leave Yan. I can’t be. That wouldn’t make any sense.
At every station, my stomach grows tighter. At every stop, I expect Yan to hop onto the train and drag me away, even if it’s unlikely unless he charters a helicopter. But just over seven hours later, the train pulls into Budapest without any incidents.
With no money left, I go to the nearest boutique bank office and tell the private banker my handbag was stolen on the train, all my cards and passport gone, and that I’m on my way to make a declaration at the police station. After verifying my identity with a fingerprint scanner, I make a small withdrawal. At the pharmacy next door, I buy foundation and lipstick, and apply a thick coat of each to conceal the faint bruises and almost-healed cut on my lip.
A taxi drops me off at the private clinic in District 11.
The receptionist knows me well. She smiles when I enter. “Miss Belan. It’s been a while.”
“I’ve been traveling. How is she?”
Her look is sympathetic. “She has her days.” Her face brightens. “Seeing you will definitely cheer her up.”
“Can I go through?”
“Of course.” She picks up the phone. “I’ll let the nurse know you’re on your way.”
I make my way through the long hallway, my sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. Natural light filters through the skylights and contemporary art brightens the clean white of the walls, while floor-to-ceiling windows encase the spacious lounge, giving a magnificent view of the city. A staircase takes me to the first floor. At the end of the hall, I pause to gather myself. Carefully schooling my features, I knock and enter.
Right away, overwhelming emotions clog up my throat, and it takes all I have to suppress the tears stinging my eyes. My grandmother is the only person who can make me feel like this, who can get through the icy walls that have encased my heart after my parents’ deaths. With her, I’m again that little girl running through the woods, and as much as I hate the feeling, I could never give it up.
I could never give her up.
She—Hanna—is sitting in her wheelchair on the balcony, her soft, white hair forming a halo around her weathered face in the late afternoon light. A nurse is feeding her tea.
Making my way over, I take the cup from the nurse. “I’ll take over.”
The woman nods and takes her leave.
A smile splits Hanna’s face. “Mina, darling. It’s been so long.”
I take a seat and bring the cup to her lips. It breaks my heart to see how hard the simple task of closing her lips around the rim is. “I’ve been busy at work. It was hard to get away.”
Hanna gives me a chiding look. “You shouldn’t waste your free time on an old woman. You should take a holiday, go away.” Her eyes sharpen. “Meet people.”
Meet a man, she means. If only she knew. I push away the thought. My time with her is short, and I’m not going to spoil it by dragging the reality of my twisted relationship with Yan into the moment.
“There’s no one I’d rather spend time with than you,” I tell her, bringing the cup to her lips again.
Through sips of tea, she watches me with observant eyes. “You’re pale.”
I use the napkin to wipe away a dribble of tea that has spilled down her chin. “I haven’t gotten out much.”
“I hate how your job makes you a vampire.”
That makes me laugh. “I’m hardly a vampire.”
“You sleep in the day and work all night. Look how white you are. If you carry on like this, you’ll develop an intolerance to the sun.”
“I’m sitting in the sun now, and I’m not turning into ashes,” I tease.
Frowning, she peers at me. “Is that a bruise under your eye?”
“Just dark rings from a lack of sleep.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “From how thin you are, you’re not eating either.”
“Don’t worry, Grandma. I’m not drinking blood.”
“Hmpf. Are you cooking
?”
“Yes.”
“What?” A challenge.
“Goulash.”
She relaxes somewhat. “Good. The greasy food they serve in that bar where you work will give you heart disease, not to mention pimples.”
If only. I’d kill for some acne and high cholesterol right now. Taking a cookie from the plate, I hold it for her to take a bite. I don’t miss how much her hands are shaking in her lap, and my heart cracks all over again. “Are they taking good care of you?”
It takes her a while to chew. “Oh, yes. The nurses are very kind.” She tilts her head toward the plate. “Have one. They’re healthy. Oats and honey.”
To appease her, I take a cookie. “How’s the food? Still good?”
“Everything is great. As always. Why are you so concerned about all of this today?”
“Just making sure you’re happy.”
“How about you? Are you happy, Mina?”
It’s hard to look her in the eyes. “Very. Are you tired? Would you like to have a nap before dinner?”
“Are you staying?”
“Yes.”
She smiles. “Then I’d like a little nap.”
I push her back into the room and take her arm to help her stand. Her frail form shakes so badly it takes a full minute to cross the short distance to the bed.
When she’s comfortable, I kiss her cheek. “I’m going to see Lena. I’ll be back after your nap.”
She reaches for my hand and gives it a tremulous squeeze. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too.” Emotions tighten my chest. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re young. You have a life to live.” She squeezes once more and lets go. “Go see Lena. She’ll be happy to see you, too.”
* * *
I find the doctor and clinic director in her office. She’s soft and curvy, her gray-streaked dark hair twisted into a French roll. She was my mother’s best friend, and she’s fiercely loyal to Hanna. It was because of her that Hanna could get into this clinic despite a five-year waiting list. We’re not close—I keep too many secrets to get close to anyone—but with this, I can trust her.
She looks up and smiles when I enter. “Mina!” Rising, she rounds her desk and kisses my cheeks. “It’s been too long.”
“Yes, it has.” I close the door. “Do you have a minute?”
She looks from the closed door to my face, her smile fading. “Of course. What is the matter?”
“Hanna’s stay here, up to when is it covered?”
“You’re paid up for the next several months. Why?”
“I’d like to transfer a large sum, enough to cover her stay for life. Can it be done?”
She gives me a startled look. “Yes, of course, but why would you want to do that?”
“I want to be sure she’s looked after, no matter what.”
“A large enough donation will ensure your grandmother’s expenses and medical treatments for life.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
“I can pay most of it now.” I have the money from Henderson’s job in my offshore account, plus the fifty percent that Yan has already deposited. “I should have the shortfall in a few weeks’ time.”
“What’s going on, Mina?” She searches my eyes. “Is there something I should know?”
“I need you to run tests.”
“Shit.” She grips my shoulder. “What are your symptoms?”
I shrug as if the answer is inconsequential, as if the signs mean nothing. “Bruises. A nosebleed. The bruises could just be rough sex. The nosebleed could be purely coincidental.”
“Shit,” she says again. “You’ve hardly recovered. How long has it been?”
“Sixteen months.”
“Why don’t you go to your regular doctor? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Yes, and you can’t ask me what it is.”
She nods. She doesn’t know the full extent of my job, but she’s aware I’ve been involved in secret government operations, and she suspects I do something besides waitressing to cover the bills here.
“All right,” she says. “Come with me.”
She leads me to the lab and takes a blood sample. While she’s handing it over for analysis with an instruction to move it to the top of the list and email the results to her immediately—a perk of running one of the most prestigious clinics in the country—I make use of a private computer booth in the visitor’s lounge to transfer whatever money I have left to the clinic.
When I’m done, I have five minutes to spare before meeting Gergo. I visit the bathroom and pinch my cheeks to make them look less pale before going outside to the gardens. He’d notice, and I don’t want Gergo to know about my situation. He may get it into his head to try to save me. And that would be a problem. Not only is my life not worth saving, but I don’t want anything to happen to Yan. Why exactly that is, I don’t know, but my chest tightens inexplicably at the mere thought of him getting hurt.
Gergo is sitting on the usual bench in a secluded corner hidden from view. Meeting at my grandmother’s has become our way of discreetly making contact. He disguises himself as some patient’s family member and signs in at the gate under a false name.
Today, he’s wearing a black wig and thick-rimmed glasses. He has more laugh lines around his eyes, as if he’s fifty years old instead of thirty-five. There’s a big mole on his left cheek, complete with a long hair growing out of it. Great disguise. The student in me can’t help but admire the teacher.
His greeting is a soft exclamation. “Mink. Thank fuck.” He pats the spot next to him and throws an arm around my shoulders when I sit down. “I was going out of my mind with worry when I saw the shootout between Sokolov and the feds on the news. That fucker, Henderson. He must’ve known the Russians would come after you.”
I pick at the skin around my nails. “He couldn’t have known Sokolov would get away.”
“If I’d known what his plans were, I would’ve never given him your name.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”
He squeezes and puts a little distance between us when I stiffen. “I had no idea when I did the disguises that he was planning on framing the Russians.”
“That’s why I needed to see you.” I meet his gaze. “Sokolov was looking for the person who’d done the disguises.”
His eyes tighten. “How do you know?”
“The Russians sent a team. They picked me up here in Budapest.”
His face twists into an expression of hatred mixed with compassion. “Where did they take you?”
“To a place in Colombia owned by a certain Julian Esguerra.”
“Those motherfuckers.” His fingers clench on my shoulder. “How did you get away?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Sokolov was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“He was hoping he’d be able to track Henderson through you.”
Gergo visibly relaxes. “Ah. Well, Henderson is dead. It was all over the news.”
“Sokolov may still come after you. You framed his team, after all.”
He stills, his face hardening. “They tortured you and you broke? You gave up my name? Is that what you came to tell me?”
“They didn’t have to torture me. I gave them the Delta Force men’s names willingly. As you said, together with Henderson, they fucked me over. But I didn’t give up your name.”
“What did you tell him then?”
“I told him it was me.”
He stares at me. “You?”
“I said I did the disguises.”
“And he believed you?”
“Only after I demonstrated my skill.”
“Mink.” He squeezes my shoulder, his expression softening. “Why would you do that? You shouldn’t have taken the fall for me.”
“I owe you my life. I owe you—” I stop, unable to say it.
“He
y.” He pulls me tight. “You owe me nothing, sweetheart.”
I pull away, uncomfortable with his friendly embrace. “Look, Henderson may be dead, but if the Russians start asking questions, they may discover our connection. You have to be careful.”
“You came to warn me,” he says with disbelief.
“You’re my friend.” Perhaps the only one I’ll ever have.
He shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“I didn’t do anything you haven’t done for me first.”
“It’s not the same.”
I grab his wrist to check the time on his watch. “I have to get back inside. Hanna will be up for dinner soon.”
“Wait. What are your plans now?”
“To lie low.” If I were going to come clean about Yan, this would be my chance, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Tell me where you’re going. Don’t make me worry.”
“It’s better like this.” I stand. “I’m going off the radar for a while. So should you.”
“Let me help you. I got you into this.”
“I’ll be fine. Just take care of yourself.”
He gets to his feet. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?”
I try to make light of it. “Because it is?”
His expression remains serious. “You know what I mean. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. If I’m not back within the next five minutes, Hanna is going to send out a search party of nurses.”
I turn, but he grabs my elbow.
“I’ll walk you back.”
I glance toward the security cameras fixed around the building. “It’s too dangerous.”
“No one will recognize me.”
He’s right. I let it be, soaking up the last few moments with the person who taught me everything I know about disguises, weapons, and how to use the skills I’ve acquired in the military in highly profitable ways. We walk together quietly, side by side.
At the entrance, he turns me to face him. “What about after?”
“After what?”
“After lying low.”
“We’ll see.”
Normally, he wouldn’t let my vagueness go, but this isn’t normal circumstances. If our secret comes out, his life is at risk.