“And I’m thankful to have such a knowledgeable officer to assist me on this op, but what I need you to understand is—”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I asked. “Did I hear you right?Yourop?”
“That’s right,” he replied. “As inmy operation. As in, I was sent here by the agency to complete a mission.”
“Did you miss the part where I said I’ve been here for five months? This ismymission. You’re here because I lost my leading man and need someone who can fit into the wardrobe.”
“Tell yourself whatever want, but I’m working off limited intel and need you to help me fill in some gaps.”
“You’re about to meet Sasha Fedya.” I glanced athim. “Do you know who that is?”
“Of course I do. He’s the largest black-market import/export man in Russia, maybe the world. And he’s backed by the Petrakov family.”
“That’s right, and he lives in one of the most secure residences in the country. Did you know that?”
“No, but like I said—”
“Do you have any idea how to contact Sasha Fedya, let alone gain his confidence enough to get near him?”
“I was told you would provide me with that information, along with a weapon, once I’d arrived in St. Petersburg. But I’m not in St. Petersburg because, for some unknown reason, I’m in a parking lot in Okulovka with an officer who mistakenly thinks she’s my handler.”
“Whoisyour handler?” I asked.
“I’m not telling you that,” he snapped back. “I’m not telling you a goddamned thing.”
“My real name is Teresa St. Marks, I go by Tess, and I answer directly to Chuck Forrester, the Deputy Director,” I said. “And you’re gonna want to curb the blasphemy while you’re here. The gangsters here are vicious, stone-cold killers, but they’re also very religious.”
“Thanks for the intel and the tip. I’m still not telling you who my handler is.”
“Well, whoever they are, I think they might have given you the wrong impression about exactly what’s going on here.”
“Please, pray tell, enlighten me,” he droned sarcastically.
I took a deep, steely breath. “The tasks of infiltrating Zivon Petrakov’s organization and building a dossier of his clientele have been given to me by the Deputy Director himself. I’ve been in Russia for five months, two weeks, and three days, and haven’t needed outside support once. I’ve been on the inside of Sasha Fedya’s inner circle for over three of those months, and he suspects nothing. The only reason you’re here is because I’ve found myself in need of a fiancé and you fit the bill better than any other available officer. Now, put your seat belt on. I’ll fill you in on our way to my place.”
“We’redrivingthe rest of the way to St. Petersburg?”
I shook my head before peeling out of the parking lot. “I’ve got an apartment here in Okulovka and one in St. Petersburg. Sasha knows about the one in town, but not the one here.”
“You’re close enough to Fedya for him to know where you live?” Wallace asked.
“He trusts me,” I replied.
“Why?”
“One of the reasons you were selected for this mission was because you have a degree in art history. Please tell me you didn’t cheat your way through the class and at least know the difference between Monet and Manet.”
“Édouard Manet was a realist painter and Claude Monet was an impressionist. Manet focused on people, while Monet preferred landscapes. The two were contemporaries, friends, rivals, and influences on each other’s work. Shall I go on?”
“Sasha’s an art fanatic,” I continued. “Especially fond of the post-impressionist painters. I’ve managed to acquire some extremely rare pieces for him.”
“And how did you manage to do that?”
“Most I acquired with the help of the United States government under a tense agreement that any and all pieces shall be returned to their rightful owners once the operation is complete.”
“You said most. What about the others?” I asked.
“Forgeries.”
