“Okay, but all of me still means there’s a me in here, right?” I jabbed my fingers into my chest. “I mean, I still get to have some sort of life outside the company, don’t I?”
“Maybe,” Leslie replied with a shrug. “Some officers do, and some don’t. For me, there’s only the job. Maybe you’ll be able to have some sort of regular life. It’s not for me to say. Whatisfor me to say is to be on this flight. Your contact will find you once you’re in Moscow, and I’ll see you when you get back home.”
“My brothers are gonna kill me.”
“Maybe, but you’re doing this for them in a roundabout way.”
“How’s that?”
“Those fires that burned down your company’s homes.”
I nodded.
“Zivon Petrakov orchestrated them.”
“Ilya Petrakov’s son?”
Leslie nodded. “Our Russian intelligence tells us that Zivon was running an insurance scam here in the Pacific Northwest. Setting fires at building sites and then rechanneling the insurance payouts to an offshore account. It’s been a pretty profitable enterprise for Zivon. He’s trying to prove himself to dear ol’ daddy, but so far all Zivon’s managed to do is bring more federal heat onto the Petrakov family. Ilya’s pissed and Zivon is hiding somewhere in Moscow, but we’re not sure of his exact location.”
Ilya Petrakov was the head of a powerful crime syndicate based out of St. Petersburg. A cruel man who ruled with an iron fist. He was known as ‘the Skinner’ in Russia due to his preferred method of torture. The only one within his family who was even more bloodthirsty was Ilya’s son Zivon. A playboy gangster with a massive chip on his shoulder who wanted nothing more than to earn his father’s respect.
“So, this mission is about the Petrakovs?”
Leslie shook his head. “I can’t say much here, but in short, you’ll be backing up an embedded officer. It’s a simple assist, and you won’t be there for very long. Three or four days, a week, tops.”
“Okay, but why me? I’ve never worked a case outside of the U.S., let alone Russia.”
“This mission requires an officer who fits your age, physical description, who can speak, and more importantly, understand Russian, which your file says you’re fluent in.”
“I took Russian for four years,” I replied. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m fluent in it.”
“You studied fine art in college, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “I minored in it,” I replied. “Graduated with a BFA in art history as well as printmaking. But you knew that already.”
Leslie smiled. “A window of opportunity has been opened for us, so we move accordingly. You’ll be posing as a high-end art broker.”
“So, if this mission isn’t about the Petrakov family, how does it involve me?”
“Because the man you’ll be helping to take down is like family the Petrakovs and one of the Ilya’s biggest earners. His name is Sasha Fedya. He’s the biggest fence in Russia and taking him down will put Ilya Petrakov on his back foot, which is exactly where the agency wants him. All you need to do is make a few appearances and then get the hell out of Dodge. That’s it. Everything else you need to know, you’ll find in your mission brief.”
“What about Zivon Petrakov?” I asked. “If he’s looked into my family’s business there’s a chance he could recognize me should we meet.”
Leslie lowered his voice. “If you do, management has authorized the use of deadly force if engaged.”
A puff of air escaped my lungs. “In my three years of service I’ve never once drawn my weapon in the line of duty, now I’m being given the green light to assassinate the son of a Russian mob boss?”
“He’s killed three of our informants and one operative in the past two years. Plus, two SIS agents. Not to mention, the people within his own crew who he iced just for suspecting they were rats. He’s out of control and daddy doesn’t appear interested inpulling on junior’s leash. Believe me, putting that dog down would be a service to the whole world.”
“All things equal, I think I’ll just try my best to stay off his radar,” I said.
“He’ll never know you left the US, let alone landed in his back yard. You’re flying to Russia on a military plane, under deep cover.”
“You recommended me for this job, didn’t you?”
“That’s right,” Leslie replied. “You may not know it, but I’m looking out for you.”
I cocked my head. “How’s that, exactly?”
