Her hair was stiff from the salt swim the day before, so the first thing she did once she settled into her new room was take a hot shower. When she emerged from the steamed bathroom she re-dressed and went downstairs to find Ian poring over a map he had spread across the dining room table. At his elbow was an empty plate with a crumpled napkin in the center, and at the place setting at the end of the table was a plate of fruit, toast, and cheese.
He tilted his chin toward the plate when she entered. “Thought you might like to fuel yourself with something other than coffee.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the toast and took a bite. “What are you doing?”
“Strategizing.”
“How can you strategize if you don’t know where Sokolov is?”
He looked up from the map. “At 11:14 PM last night Sokolov was caught on a bank camera in Trondheim, six hours south of here.”
The toast lodged in her throat. “That means he could be here already.”
He tapped a finger idly on the map. “No, I don’t think so. Earlier that day I had Mia pull security footage of me withdrawing money from the ATM at my bank in Oslo and then patch it into the security feed at a major bank in Trondheim.”
“Oh, I see. So he thought you were withdrawing funds in Trondheim.”
“Right, proving he has access to some sophisticated technology. Someone is using a software program to match my face to security images and then alerting Sokolov to the results. Mia was able to embed a Trojan in the altered security feed that allowed her to remotely access any computer that clicked on the inserted clip.”
Brilliant, Leah thought. “Did she figure out who he’s working with?”
His lips pursed. “The IP address belonged to a computer at the Kremlin.”
A beat passed.
“He’s being helped by the Russian government.”
“Yeah. Which means they’ve known all along he’s alive, and I’d bet money they had a hand in helping him pull off his escape six years ago. He’s likely still working for them.”
“That changes things, doesn’t it?”
“I’d fucking say so. If Russia was behind the attack in Kabul there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“But if Sokolov is working for the Russians, why has he been in the U.S. the past six months?” Even as she asked the question she realized she knew the answer. Sokolov was a Russian spy, meaning he’d been in America running a mission for Mother Russia. And now Sokolov wanted her dead, which meant Russia wanted her dead.
Oh shit.
“What does he want from me? I don’t have anything of his. Let’s fly back to D.C. and search my apartment. Maybe he hid something there.”
“If that were the case he would have flown back and retrieved it himself.”
Oh yeah, duh. Perplexed and frustrated, she tossed the toast on her plate and stood to pace. “What do you think his next move is?”
“Mia has laid a few more red herrings in Trondheim. I expect Sokolov will be looking for us there today, unless the Kremlin discovers the bank’s video feed was tampered with.”
“Since Mia hacked into the Kremlin’s computer, can’t she just find out what Sokolov’s orders are?”
“It’s not as simple as that. Mia designed the Trojan herself, and it’s an incredibly sophisticated virus, but any outright duplication of data or even an unusual pattern of computer use could set off alarm bells. She’s very slowly installing a program that will extract data in tiny increments, but it could take a while before she has any usable information.”
“Why don’t you go to Trondheim and surprise him?”
“Trust me,” he growled, “I’d love nothing more. But I’m not leaving you here unprotected. Miscalculations happen, and I can’t guarantee he won’t figure out where we are.”
She nodded in understanding. “Now that Russia is involved, whatever it is I supposedly have is even more important. If he kills me, key information could be lost to you.”
Ian stood, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You would be lost to me.”
Before she could reply, he walked out of the room.
Chapter 34
Alexei Sokolov was livid.
In fact, he was so enraged when his handler called to tell him the Trondheim bank’s security feed was corrupted, that he broke one of his strict fieldwork tenets and went out to let off a little steam. That release came in the form of a home invasion, if you wanted to call the crack whore’s shack a home. He bought enough coke off the bitch to make her eyes glisten with greed, and when she led him back to her dumpy bedroom with its stained mattress, he raped and strangled her. When he was done he retrieved the money from where he’d watched her hide it and kicked the bag of cocaine. It burst, drifting over the hooker’s limp body and coating the floor with a powder as fine and white as snow.
Sokolov was fond of hookers and drug addicts because they were easy marks. They were always desperate for money and weren’t willing or able to take proper precautions against strangers. The cleanup was the real bonus though. Prostitutes rarely had family to make a stink, and more often than not the police assumed it was a drug-related killing and didn’t waste time chasing down alternate theories.
The strangling had dulled some of the edge, but when it was over Sokolov found the whole thing anticlimactic, distasteful even. He liked a challenge, and cocaine addicts were not that. Forcing that rat informant in Kabul to watch him rape his wife and then get fucked himself—now that had been fun.
God, it had been so long since he’d had any fun. He’d had to be so careful in D.C. because he couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself or alienating Leah, which had meant living the life of a goddamned monk. Well, until he’d messed up one time with the kinky lawyer and been caught. It had been stupid to do the bitch in Leah’s apartment, but it had been so satisfying to fuck someone else in her bed.
Still, his self-enforced celibacy for the majority of their relationship had been preferable to doing the nasty with Leah. Just the memory of the one time they’d had sex made his lip curl with revulsion. He’d put off screwing her for as long as possible, but even she’d begun to wonder why he wasn’t interested in a physical relationship.
Afraid of blowing his cover, he’d downed half a bottle of vodka one night and forced himself to do the deed. Just to stay hard he’d had to picture some of his previous conquests: the twins in Italy he’d tortured for days before raping and strangling, the weasel in Greece he’d pinned to the wall like a butterfly before jerking off on his bleeding body, and the woman in Romania who he’d suffocated and then screwed. That one hadn’t been his favorite, as it turned out necrophilia wasn’t really his thing, but at least it had been different. Sex with Leah had been as boring as pretending to care about her misplaced American values. She hadn’t even been up for anal or choking. The only upside was that it had been unpleasant for her too, which had ensured he didn’t have to repeat the experience. Thank God.
As he walked away from the whore’s shack, whistling and with his hands in his pockets, he wondered idly if Leah was sleeping with the hulking Norwegian. He hated Haugen to the marrow of his bones, but he had to admit the man was easy on the eyes. Sokolov preferred women, but he wasn’t above sleeping with a man if the pain payout was worth it. In fact, it could be fun to have a go at the Norwegian, especially since he knew the other man would rather die than let Sokolov touch him. Haugen would have to be chained of course; Sokolov couldn’t risk him getting a second shot at him. The fight in Scotland had proved Haugen was more skilled than Sokolov remembered.
Sokolov’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the street. Haugen was apparently cleverer than he remembered as well. When Sokolov’s handler had contacted him with the information that Haugen had been caught on camera taking money out of an ATM in Trondheim, Sokolov had been surprised and a little disappointed in Haugen’s carelessness. Now that he knew the feed had been tampered with, he realized his intuition had been right. Well, two could play at that game. He’d also le
t himself be seen on camera in Trondheim last night. Let the Scandinavian think he’d fallen for his ruse. And never mind that he had.
To top off his shitty day, he was starting to feel pressure from his handler about the unresolved situation with Leah. The morons at the Kremlin wanted Parker’s body facedown in a ditch somewhere, but how the hell was he supposed to accomplish that when they were feeding him crap information? Christ, for all he knew Haugen and Leah were on their way back to U.S. at that very moment, which would mean they’d figured out what she had. Then shit would really hit the fan.
Thankfully, he doubted that would happen. Leah would have to prove to be far smarter than she was. Besides, his handler had assured him all Norwegian flight manifests—public and private—were being monitored, although he wasn’t sure how much faith he had in the same people who couldn’t recognize a cut video from their own asses.
Jesus, he was working for a bunch of fumbling shitheads. At least his mission was almost complete. When it was, he was disappearing somewhere even the Russians couldn’t reach.
The phone in his pocket vibrated and Sokolov answered. He listened for a few moments, his lips curling in a parody of a smile before he clicked off without speaking a single word.
Resuming his whistle, he stuck his thumb in the air. A few cars passed by, and he wanted to crush the throats of every driver who avoided him, but soon a dark green van pulled over. The driver was a young woman in her twenties with rosy cheeks and a nice wholesome look to her. Sokolov flashed her one of his most charming smiles and wanted to sneer when her heart practically leapt into her eyes.
“Where are you headed?” she asked shyly.
He opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Korgen.”
Chapter 35
The rest of the morning Ian did all he could to distance himself from Leah. The incident on the beach had made him realize that when it came to her he had no self-control, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. His first priority had to be her safety. Secondary to that was capturing Sokolov and making him—and his country—pay for their double-crossing. Hauling Leah to his bed and fucking her until she went limp with pleasure wasn’t on the list.
Now if only his hormones would get on board and stop returning to those little blue lace panties.
He spent a good part of the morning patrolling the property and thinking about what he needed to do after Svein arrived. He was aching to go after Sokolov while he knew his location, but he’d learned the hard way the value of patience. Besides, he wasn’t going to leave Leah unprotected no matter how much he wanted Sokolov. There was something about Soklov being caught on the street camera in Trondheim that nagged at him. The Russian was ruthless and deceitful, but he wasn’t typically careless. Ian wouldn’t feel comfortable until Svein arrived and he could scope out the Trondheim situation himself. No, scratch that. He wouldn’t feel comfortable until Sokolov was six feet under a pile of pig shit.
Ian stayed outside long after the lunch hour had passed, skipping the meal in order to avoid eating with Leah. Where he stood on the lawn he could see her through the living room window. She was curled on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her while she read a book she’d found on one of the shelves. It must have had an interesting plot, because she hadn’t looked up once in the past twenty minutes.
He took out his cell phone and called Mia. She answered on the first ring.
“What’s up, Boss?”
“You got anything?”
“Nope, not yet. Like I said, it’s going to be a little bit before the Trojan program is up and running.”
He knew that, and yet he couldn’t seem to shake the sense of urgency that gnawed at him. As far as he knew Sokolov was six hours away in Trondheim, but his instincts weren’t convinced. During his time in Special Forces he’d learned to trust his gut even when it didn’t make sense. If it came down to following facts or instinct, he went with instinct every time.
“Put Anders on.”
The phone shuffled and a moment later he heard, “Anders.”
“Catch me up to speed.”
“Chani is with your mom and says she’s doing well. I promised to pass along a message from your mom. The message is, and I quote: ‘Isn’t it time you got a normal job?’”
Ian couldn’t help but smile. He knew his mother was proud of him, but she’d never liked the more dangerous aspects of his job. It didn’t help that she was reminded of those dangers every time he had to put a protective detail on her. For a few years now she’d been asking him when he was going to settle down and find a nice woman and a job that didn’t have bullets as mandatory equipment. The short answer was: not any time soon.
“Svein’s ETA is 5 AM,” Anders continued. “He’s dark right now and taking the long way in case the Russians have eyes on him. Dag just landed in D.C. He’ll be at Leah’s apartment in a few hours.”
Ian had sent Dag stateside in hopes he might be able to ferret out new information or find some crucial detail they’d missed. Not for a second did Ian think Dag would find anything worth killing for in Leah’s apartment, but Dag was talented at forming a comprehensive picture from only a few pieces of evidence. It was what made him such a skilled forensic accountant. If there was something to be pieced together from the remnants of Sokolov and Leah’s lives in D.C., Dag was the man to do it.
“How is Erik?” Ian asked.
There was a small sigh on the other end of the line before Anders said, “The doctor cleared him for light duty, although I’m not convinced it wasn’t done under duress. He literally hasn’t left the office since the airport shooting.”
Ian’s smile widened. “I take it he’s trying your patience.”
“Well, you know Erik.”
Ian did know Erik. He was the closest Ian had allowed a friend since Finn’s murder. They’d been in the FSK together and had stayed buddies even when they moved on to different specialty units. Northern Wolf Services had been Erik’s brainchild, and Ian would be eternally grateful to him for the opportunity to make a living doing what he did best. Still, Erik had his faults. One of them was that he hated being on the sidelines. He was usually in the thick of things, so when he wasn’t, he was a bear to be around.
“How is the Russian’s girlfriend?”
Ian’s response was sharp. “She’s not his girlfriend.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Whatever you say, Boss.”
Ian was annoyed with his reaction and how much it had given away. “I’ll be in touch. Call me if anything comes up before then.”
“Ten-four.”
Ian ended the call and turned to look at Leah again. She was in the exact same position she’d been in before, only now she’d pulled out her hair elastic and dark locks spilled in waves of silk across her shoulders. He was already on edge about Sokolov and his sexual frustration wasn’t helping—she wasn’t helping. He thought of how responsive she’d been moving under his hand on the beach and how badly he’d wanted to spread her legs and fill her until they were both lost in pleasure. If simply touching her had been the most erotic experience of his life, sex would be even better
He adjusted his arousal in his jeans, once again irritated. For the hundredth time he told himself to forget about her and focus on the job at hand. Resolute, he turned away from the window to make another pass around the house.
Chapter 36
By lunchtime Leah had figured out Ian was avoiding her, but she’d decided to give him his space. Around five he finally came inside, his expression inscrutable and his body language practically screaming back off as he gave her a wide berth on his way to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. She’d thrown together a quick meal of black bean burgers, a green salad, and sliced bread that she’d found in a quaint old breadbox. She plated the dinners and then left him to brood in the kitchen while she ate hers watching an old re-run of Friends with Norwegian subtitles. After supper he’d disappeared again and she hadn’t seen him since.
She su
pposed he had a lot on his mind, what with the news of the Russians’ involvement in his friend’s death and the knowledge that Sokolov was a mere six hours away plotting any number of ways to kill them. She should be grateful for his self-control because her life depended on his ability to make rational judgments. Yet somehow she wasn’t.
At nine o’clock she got ready for bed out of sheer boredom. She’d already finished the English novel she’d found on one of the bookcases in the living room. It had been about a pirate and a fine lady falling in love, and the dialogue had been so flowery and the woman had fainted so often that Leah hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from it in anticipation of each new ridiculous event. She’d flipped through the TV stations after dinner, but aside from the Friends episode with subtitles, everything else was in Norwegian. As a last resort she’d taken a bath, lighting as many rose-shaped candles as she could find—and there were many. She’d soaked in the hot water and thought of how worried Destiny must be. If she survived this, the first thing she would do when she returned home was call her friend and let her know she was alive and well, and holy hell did she have a story for her.
While floating in the water she morosely mulled over how pissed Amanda would be the next morning when Leah failed to show with a Frappuccino and a scooped-out bagel with hummus. Leah had wanted to call and let her boss know she needed a few more days due to extenuating circumstances, but Ian hadn’t wanted her contacting anyone in the States in case her work phones were being monitored. That meant she could only hope she still had a job when she returned.
After bathing she brushed her teeth and combed her damp hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders to air dry. She was wearing another of her satin shorts and tank top sets, this one cranberry red. She swiped at the steam on the mirror and studied herself. Was this the last time she would see Ian? After dinner he’d told her Svein was due to arrive first thing in the morning, and then he’d exited the room before she could so much as utter a peep. He would likely be gone by the time she got out of bed the next day. Was this it then? Had his grunted “thank you for dinner” on the way out the kitchen door been the last words she’d ever hear from him?
Finding Lies Page 17