The date was two weeksbeforeViktor’s death.
I sat there staring at it.Maybe the date was wrong on the pathologist’s computer?
Or maybe this was someone else’s autopsy report, and they’d copied it and changed the details to Viktor’s, but not noticed the date code at the bottom.
What if Viktor had faked his death? I turned the idea over in my mind. This was a guy who’d put some of the most notorious criminals in Russia behind bars. A national hero...but someone every gang wanted dead. The man couldn’t just retire and go fishing; he’d be dead in a week...unless everyone thought he was already dead.
I started typing in searches, digging deeper and deeper. The FBIis hooked into a lot of databases around the world, and I knew exactly what I was looking for: a man of Viktor’s age, with Viktor’s face, but with a different name. And eventually, I got a match.
I sat back in my chair. “Holy shit,” I said aloud.
Viktor Grushin was living under a new name, pretending to be a Polish national. And he was regularly flying between Russia and New York, LA...and most recently, Chicago.He’s alive.And he was right here in my city. I tried to download a copy of his file, but hit a server error, so I settled for snapping a photo of my screen with my phone. Could I contact him? Maybe ask for his help? He was retired and probably wouldn’t take kindly to someone blowing his cover, but maybe if I pleaded…
My eyes fell on the post it note on my monitor:Edgar, 8pm.The clock on my computer said 7:51pm.
Shit!I was going to be late! And I couldn’t just not show up and leave the poor guy sitting there. I looked down at my suit. There was no time to go home and change.Well, at least I skip the agonizing about what to wear.
When I showed up at the restaurant in my biker leathers, the staff thought I was a delivery driver and tried to give me a takeout bag. I found the bathroom and scrambled out of my leathers and into my suit, then looked despairingly at myself in the mirror. I put on some lipstick, then unbuttoned a button on my blouse.That’ll have to do.
I hurried back into the restaurant, and a waiter showed me to the table. Whoever this guy Edgar was, I had to grudgingly admit he had good taste. The place was classy but not too formal, dark and cozy enough that it felt private but not so quiet that there’d be awkward silences. There was a great view across Lake Michigan with the lights of the city reflected in the dark water, and the food looked and smelled amazing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something that wasn’t takeout or instant noodles.
We rounded a corner, and I saw him, waiting at the table.Oh, he’s cute!Edgar had pale golden hair and beautiful, expressive blue eyes. I mentally shifted gears. I’d been dreading this; now I was wondering if I still remembered how to flirt.
Edgar jumped up when he saw me and gave me a big, honest smile. He pulled my chair out for me, which was old-fashioned but sort of sweet. We ordered and started talking. He’d been divorced about two years, had two kids he obviously adored, and his weaknesses were Godzilla movies and red licorice.
He was nice. And attractive. I decided to get this over with before I got my hopes up too much. “I want to tell you right up front,” I said, “I work for the FBI.”
Edgar grinned, which gave him dimples. “Cool.”
I blinked. “Really? That puts most people off.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Mine’s worse.”
“I doubt it.”
He cleared his throat theatrically. “Investigator for the IRS.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh. Okay, yeah. That’s way worse.”
“Does it putyouoff?”
I locked eyes with him and smiled. “No. No, it doesn’t.”
He smiled back at me, and then both of us reached for the bread, and we bumped fingers and laughed, andmaybe this could workand?—
I froze.You have got to be fucking kidding me.
Marching out of the shadows was Gennadiy.
I started to get up, but he was already at the table, looming over us. And he waspissed.“Who isthis?” he demanded, glancing at Edgar.
I just stared up at him, dumbstruck.
“I’m Edgar,” said Edgar, uncertainly. Gennadiy didn’t even look at him. Edgar looked at me. “Is this your...ex?”
“No!” Gennadiy and I both said as one. I was annoyed at him showing up like this, but Gennadiy wasseething. What’s his problem?
I managed to shake off my shock. “What are you doing here?!”
