As they drove to a nice restaurant near the store, he considered telling her everything, letting her decide their future. Uncertainty gripped him again when he considered the repercussions. She was smitten. She wanted to be with him. He knew what her answer would be, but that didn’t change the fact that later down the road she would resent her decision. She chose that moment to brush her hand along his thigh, another comfortable gesture he so wanted to keep all to himself. He glimpsed at her, her smile a mile wide. Lately, Stephan had lived with dread churning in his gut. The more she meant to him, the more he waited for the axe to fall.
At the restaurant, once seated, Stephan leaned on the table and gathered her hand in his. It was just a way to maintain contact—touching her was one of his many pleasures. His eyes traced her features, committing each expression to memory. In that moment, he realized he couldn’t speak up just yet. He would give it time. Let their relationship grow stronger and then, selfishly, he could leverage on that to keep her. “Have you heard from Cassandra and Trevor?”
“Actually I have. I’ve been working on some research for Cassie. Almost finished with it. She wanted it yesterday. Bossy woman. But it has been a bear of an assignment. Not a lot of information readily available, and it has required some digging.” A deep frown marred Jessica’s brow. “I’m a little worried. She mentioned things are different there and she wants to cover her back, whatever that means.”
“Well, I am sure everything is fine. They would contact us if they were in trouble. At least I hope they would.”
“I’m sure they…would.” Jessica’s eyes were drawn to the couple walking in the restaurant.
The wife, heavily pregnant, tugged the hand of a little boy. The husband helped her to her seat and sat the little boy in his highchair. Laughter drifted from their table. The woman pulled toys from a bag and set them in front of the toddler and the little one pounced on them with a squeal of delight.
Stephan followed Jessica’s gaze to the happy couple. The sight of them propelled him back in time.
“Marry me, Layla,” he asked her after another night spent at the pub with their friends. They had been living together for a couple of years and she had deflected his proposals several times before.
“Why do we need to be married to enjoy each other’s company?” she responded with the same old litany she always did when he asked.
“Don’t you want to live happily ever after with me?”
“I already am! We don’t need a piece of paper to prove that.”
She had again talked him out of it. Back when he was in his early twenties, Stephan had loved Layla in a young and careless way, so on par with his impetuous behavior. Looking back, he should have been happy she hadn’t accepted it, considering what went down not long after that. He wouldn’t have wanted to make her wait the four long years required by law in Ireland before she could get what she wanted—what he couldn’t give her. Although he could rationalize the clean break between them, it hadn’t make things any easier to accept. That day had forged him into the man he was now. That day had taught him a lesson in selflessness, but had also made him unable to relinquish control over his heart, over his relationships.
Jessica was caught up in watching the family of three, soon to be four, sharing a casual lunch. At one point, the woman jumped in her chair with a little gasp and then giggled with excitement as she grabbed for her husband and little one’s hands and placed them on her distended belly. After a few minutes, rich laughter filled the room as they all shared the magical moment of the baby’s kicks against the palms of their hands. Jessica couldn’t hold back a wide smile when the toddler cried out, “Again, again. Mama, make him do it again.”
The boy snared Jessica’s attention. A sweet little imp with a thatch of dark hair and sparkling innocent blue eyes, a typical Irish child. The whole scene left her wondering what it would be like to have a family of her own. To be the kind of mother hers had been—loving, caring, always ready to kiss her boo-boos better. She sighed deeply and prayed she would be a good mother when the time came. For now, she was content with her lot in life and, selfishly, she wasn’t ready to share the man of her dreams. She wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer. She couldn’t ask for more.
Stephan watched the whole train of emotions cross Jessica’s eyes and wanted to scream, bang his fists against the table, punch a wall. Too early! I haven’t had you long enough! I need more time. But he knew it was inevitable, he knew he couldn’t prevent what was coming next. He knew she would eventually want what that couple had. Layla’s memory creeping up on him at this time had surely been a bad omen. The tightness in his chest—that tightness you had when you knew something bad was about to happen—had dogged his heels for days. It was like witnessing a train wreck, unable to contain the disaster, unable to help those trapped inside.
He sat there blank, hollow, shaken, watching the scene with the young family unfold and absorbing its effect on Jessica. Lost in his misery, he didn’t realize she’d turned her attention back to him. “Are you okay?”
The weight of her hand on his and her words drew him back to their world. “Yes.” Deflecting the attention from himself, he asked, nodding at the menu, “Have you decided?”
“I’m divided between the fish and the stew. Both sound delicious.”
“How about we get one of each and share?”
A happy grin spread across her face. “That sounds good!”
After their orders were placed, Stephan masked his feelings and made it through the rest of the dinner on the tail of false pleasantries. The tenderness Stephan witnessed in Jessica’s eyes earlier had been like a serrated knife to his heart, shredding as it sliced its way through him, leaving a crumbling mess behind. He needed time alone to think, regroup. Time to deal with the decision he had to make on his own, for her benefit. On the way back home, he detoured in the direction of Trevor and Cassandra’s address.
Jessica frowned as they pulled up to the restored Georgian house across from St. Stephen’s Green. “I thought we were going to your house. Why are we here?”
“I remembered at dinner that I have to meet a client later over drinks. Purely business. I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier. I don’t know how late the meeting will run. I figured you would be more comfortable here instead of bored out of your mind waiting for me at my place.”
Jessica’s heart sank; she could smell an excuse from miles away. She had spent hours waiting for him at his house before. What the hell just happen? What had changed?
“Are you sure? I mean—”
“I am sure. I don’t know what time I will be back. I will call you tomorrow.” He avoided her gaze as he exited the car and rounded it to help her.
At the front door, she hesitated before opening it. As she was about to cross the threshold, he pulled her into his arms, cupped her face with tender hands, and took her mouth hungrily. His spicy taste flooded her system, the smell of his musky aftershave invaded her senses.
Stephan’s warm touch called for her to pull him in and have her way with him. Jessica’s heart strummed erratically in reaction to the hint of longing and despair she sensed in that kiss. Jessica reached for him, desperate to return to the love and happiness she had felt only moments ago, but he broke the kiss and stepped back, exhaling a deep shaky breath.
“Stephan. I don’t understand.” When he didn’t elaborate, her heart sank to her stomach and her arms dropped at her sides. “Call me tomorrow?” She noticed he hesitated for a millisecond.
“Yes. Tomorrow.” His thumb softly caressed her cheek as he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on her lips. “Go in. I don’t want to leave you outside.”
She walked into the house and turned to watch his retreating back as he made his way to the car. She caught the look of regret that clouded his eyes as he shot one last glance in her direction before he drove off into the cold dark night. That look sent a trail of ice inching up her spine, chilling her to the bone.
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Chapter Thirty-Three
Hellish Days
THE DAYS AFTER BEGINNING HIS not-so-solitary confinement in the mansion had dragged. Trevor was treated well, but was still a forced guest there. Dmitriy had offered to go to his house and pick a change of clothing for him, but he lied, saying his girlfriend was supposed to be out of town that week and, expecting to have gone back home that first night, hadn’t thought to get the keys when he left that morning. Dmitriy didn’t pursue it and provided Trevor with a couple of changes of clothing. Although they were a tight fit, they would suit him for the short period he planned on being there.
“You’ll need to handle your own laundry though,” Dmitriy had laughed when Trevor thanked him for the loan.
“No worries. I’m housebroken.” He hoped to make Cassandra laugh with his comment. Let her see that his smart-ass self was still thriving under the stress of the situation.
Trevor had spent the previous few days divided between finding a way to remove the files he needed from the servers and continuing the development of the decrypter to keep Mikhailov off his back. He didn’t want to give him any reason to “dismiss him permanently,” as Dmitriy had put it.
The decrypter was quite an impressive piece of work. It drew him in, and the excitement at the challenge of unraveling it pushed everything else to the back of his mind as it absorbed all his attention. Days spent under the grip of the code made his confinement a little easier to take. He was totally intrigued by its complexity and filed a mental note to contact Paul Faber, the decrypter’s creator, to discuss it in detail.
Aside from that, Trevor spent each moment out of his makeshift cell in deep observation of the people and the network, searching for vulnerabilities he could use to his advantage. Each person, each pawn in the hierarchy of the organization, was becoming very familiar to him as he observed their interactions during the time spent among them, listening to their conversations. They spoke freely in front of him, unaware of his understanding of their mother language.
Dmitriy had been drawn to him, possibly because of the shared expatriate status and the fact that they were two oddities amongst the violent members of the Glazov. They had spent each day almost glued at the hip. Dmitriy never left his side unless it was to use the small bathroom, which was causing a complication for Trevor. Dmitriy was never far enough, nor gone long enough, to allow him access to the server for the time he estimated it would take to pull the files from it.
“I am hungry. Are you up for lunch?”
Trevor frowned. It was early, but it would give him another opportunity to provide Cassandra with a glimpse of what was going on. “Sure.”
They made their way to the enormous kitchen, where long tables were set to accommodate the many people living in the mansion. As they sat and waited to be served by one of the kitchen maids, Trevor noticed Dmitriy’s intense interest in one referred to as Tatiana.
Trevor had seen her in the kitchen before. A shy young woman, she was efficient and mostly kept to herself, completing her duties without complaint, even under the crudest treatment by some of Mikhailov’s henchmen. Dmitriy followed her with hooded eyes, a poor disguise for the attention he gave her.
“Spasibo,” Dmitriy thanked the woman, continuing to track her movements as she served Trevor.
Trevor repeated the word when she placed the plate in front of him. He had to agree, the food smelled appetizingly good. He took a long whiff of the generous serving of steamy meat and vegetables and settled in to eat, all the while keeping close tabs on Dmitriy.
“So…does she know you love her?”
Dmitriy’s wary eyes shot to Trevor’s. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Been there, know that,” Trevor shot back. “So does she?”
Mikhailov’s nephew glanced back at his plate and pushed the meat around with his fork. His shoulders curved slightly and he gazed over to the counter where the woman in question was busy serving others as they trickled into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure. We met for the first time a number of years ago when I was sent here for a short visit. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since. I remember it clearly. Tanka was puttering around the kitchen getting ready for an evening meal. I startled her and she dropped a knife. When it fell, it sliced her finger. I offered to look at it, and when our hands touched….”
Trevor studied him and understood the unspoken words. Dmitriy was definitely taken by the woman. He probably hadn’t even realized he used the affectionate version of her name in his retelling. “Why don’t you say something?”
“She’s shy. I’ve been taking my time in courting her.”
Trevor took a bite and savored the hearty meal. “How’s that working for you?”
Dmitriy dropped his fork on his plate and rested his elbows on the table. He shot a covert glance in Tatiana’s direction. “It has taken me a year to get her to even laugh at my jokes. We have slowly become friends. I believe my efforts are paying off. The last few months she has begun to warm up to me. I think…I don’t know for sure…but I think she now has affection for me.”
Trevor could not imagine having had the patience to wait that long for Cassandra. He had wanted her the first time he had set eyes on her, and had pursued her relentlessly. Thank god she had come around in those first short months. Trevor clapped Dmitriy on the back. “I am glad it is working out for you, my friend. There is nothing better than loving a good woman.”
Dmitriy cocked his head. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Just wistful. Thinking of holding a beautiful woman in my arms again soon.” He flashed a cocky grin. “Hard to do when you’re locked down.”
“You have that right.” Dmitriy turned his head in Tatiana’s direction, lost in thought.
*****
Over time, Trevor had stealthily wormed his way into the mainframe. The massive server contained hundreds of folders. It would be impossible to remove the entirety of its contents without having access from the outside or access to a portable storage unit. Based on what he’d uncovered, there was no way he could get it all done in one day. At least not via a flimsy remote connection.
The micro thumb-drive he had absconded in the hem of his pants his first day on the job wasn’t large enough to hold all the files in one single swoop, either. Even if he limited the copy to text documents only, it would take days to do a full backup of the files, considering the little time he was left to his own devices in the underground room.
The size of the data housed on the server puzzled Trevor. Why would a mafia boss have so much data on a standalone server anyway? Intrigued, he had checked the contents of a few folders. They contained mostly logs of some sort and documents that appeared to be lists of names, records of payoffs, bribes, businessmen owned by the different organizations, blackmail—you name it. There were also massive databases with user details that could be sold to spammers and online criminals alike.
Mikhailov’s hacker network had been prolific. Hackers. Trevor had not been able to infiltrate the mainframe from the outside, and hadn’t considered burrowing his way out since he had no access to the outside world from there. If he could establish a connection to the outside, he could push the files out, a batch at a time.
Dmitriy walked in after his usual mid-morning cigarette break and sat at his computer. He toggled to the browser, searching for hardware parts. “I don’t understand why we have to buy piece-of-shit computers when we can afford top-of-the line desktops.”
“Getting what you paid for?”
“Yeah. Two of the desktops upstairs are dead in the water. Network cards died. And, as usual, they want it fixed ASAP.”
Trevor kept his eyes trained on the screen, analyzing the code, testing subsets of data, as well as looking for a way to insert a Trojan that, once triggered, would destroy the software as soon as it was used for the first time. If he could figure out a way to add that little time bomb to the program, he could get Cassandra out of har
m’s way before Mikhailov figured out what was going on. That was, if Trevor was allowed to leave.
Almost as if pulled in by his thoughts, the clack of the door being opened resonated from upstairs and Mikhailov, followed by his henchmen, descended to the room.
“Ivanov.”
*****
Cassandra stared out the open window at the river traffic flowing past the little apartment facing Fontanka River as the blaring car horns and bustle of people on the streets filled her ears. She took a sip from the cup she nursed in her hands. Even coffee tasted different without him. How pathetic was that? Watching a couple stop for a kiss before continuing on their way toward Sennaya Square, Cassandra’s heart tightened into a wadded ball in her chest. She missed his firm lips. She even missed his smart-ass comments.
The early morning sun reflected off the water. For once, it wasn’t raining, but the humidity was a heavy blanket in the air, and the chilly wind, a cutting knife. A typical late spring day in St. Petersburg. Cassandra brushed her hair from her face in frustration as she turned back to the room and eyed the computer screen, the dead graphic equalizer interface displayed prominently in its center.
Her stomach grumbled and Cassandra grimaced. She hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment or the laptop for fear of missing his live broadcast. But the walls of the studio apartment were closing in and supplies were low. She needed food and fresh air. She set her cup aside, slipped on her boots, and grabbed her jacket and wallet. Her hand hesitated, hovering over the ticket bundles, remembering the day they had bought them and discussed the evasion plan. She snatched them and shoved them in her back pocket before she strode out the door.
To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) Page 29