She dug. They noticed. He died.
Sidarov’s gaze slid back to her, assessing.
Norah froze.
“Do not look so stricken, Ms. Winslow,” Sidarov said. “No one in this room died innocent. Harrington understood the risk when he took the first payment. He enjoyed the rewards. He knew the cost.”
Her eyes softened, fractionally. “But you . . . you are different.”
Norah’s mouth was dry. “I don’t?—”
“You saw numbers that did not add up,” Sidarov continued, as if Norah hadn’t spoken. “You followed them. You were.. .what is the word...relentless.” The corner of her mouth tilted. “I like that. There are very few minds precise enough to see the patterns we build. Fewer still who have the courage to keep pulling once they do.”
“I wasn’t—” Norah swallowed. “I was just doing my job.”
“Exactly,” Sidarov said. “And you did it well. So well that you have made yourself very important. To us. To Richard. To Senator Morris.” Her gaze flicked between them, reminding Norah exactly whose room this was. “Important people are valuable, Ms. Winslow. As long as they remember which way the current flows.”
Something in Norah’s chest shuddered.
“Richard tells me you are loyal,” Sidarov went on. “Smart. Discreet. That with the right...framing...you can help ensure that what happened with Harrington never happens again.”
Richard tells me.
He’d been talking about her to Saltykova? Preparing for this. Preparing her? Hale’s thumb stroked once along the inside of her wrist, a subtle touch that felt suddenly like a shackle.
“Norah understands what’s at stake,” he said calmly. “She may have been...overzealous in her initial concern. But she sees the bigger picture now. Don’t you?”
Her tongue felt thick. Words stuck behind her teeth.
Did she see it?
She saw Trip on the ground.
She saw Hale standing over him, unshaken.
She saw Morris, serene in the corner like this was just another necessary vote.
She saw Sidarov, pleased.
She saw herself, reflected in the dark window—a woman in a black gown with blood on the hem if she looked too closely.
“Yes,” Norah heard herself say, voice thin and far away. “I...I understand.”
Sidarov watched her for a long beat.
Then she smiled, a small, satisfied curve.
“Good,” she said. “Then I am not worried.”
The man with the gun moved forward again, this time with a length of plastic sheeting and practiced efficiency. Trip’s body was rolled, wrapped, and contained. Another man opened a side door Norah hadn’t noticed before. The whole thing took less than a minute.
Confrontation. Execution. Cleanup. Logistics.
Morris finished her champagne.
“We’ll leave you to coordinate the boring parts, Ksenia,” she said, setting the glass on a side table. “Richard, Norah, it will be important for you both to be visible in the ballroom for a bit longer. Nothing out of the ordinary. We don’t want anyone thinking tonight is anything but a celebration.”
Her gaze brushed over Norah, assessing. “Can you manage that?”
