"What about Knyazev?"
"Still glued to his side, far as my people can tell." Rurik's eyes flick around the gallery and then return to fix on me. "They're not protecting Knyazev, but I'm sure they won't let you just walk in and shoot the fucker either."
I tuck the paper into my pocket and catch movement at the edge of my vision. Noemi appears in the gallery entrance, scanning the room until they land on me and Rurik standing too close together. Her expression shifts from worry to suspicion in about half a second.
"I should go," Rurik says, reading the situation instantly. "Good luck with Koslov. And with the woman."
He slips away through a staff door before I can respond, and I turn to face Noemi as she walks toward me with her jaw set and her arms crossed.
"Who was that?"
"Nobody."
"Don't lie to me." She looks over her shoulder at Sasha and keeps her voice low. "I saw you hand him something. I saw the envelope… Was it money?"
"It doesn't concern you." My eyes track over to where Sasha is now pressing his steam-breathing face to the glass holding the coronation outfit of Catherine the Great. I really need to teach that child to read signs and respect rules.
"Everything that touches Sasha concerns me." She steps close enough that I can see the tiny bulging vein in her forehead, displaying how her blood pressure is up. I almost chuckle at how easy it is to get her going. "You brought us here as cover for some kind of deal, didn't you?"
"It's time to leave," I tell her before she can say whatever she's thinking. "Right now."
"Sasha hasn't finished looking at the swords," she protests, but I'm already moving, ignoring her. I won't be dressed down in public like this, and I won't tolerate her backtalk much longer before I can't control my urge to smack her silly.
"He can come back another time. We need to go." Grabbing her by her bicep, I forcibly guide her toward the case where Sasha has effectively left enough DNA to frame him for any number of crimes in his future, and she whimpers with every step.
"Pig," she hisses.
"That's Mr. Pig to you, and if you don't stop speaking to me like that, you'll learn a lesson in respect yourself." I turn to Sasha and grunt, "Time to go…" as we walk past. When I don't pause to wait for him, Noemi wrestles against my grip harder, but he eventually catches up, winded from running.
"That was awesome! Can we come here tomorrow too?" Sasha asks, sounding delighted, but all I can think about is getting out of here and getting this job done. The faster I move, the faster I get back to my home where I can control things better.
I don't like the feeling that I'm failing. I've never failed at anything in my life before now, and with Marat on the run, evading me more than once now, imposter syndrome is hitting me hard. And every time I make a mistake with my son, Noemi is there to remind me that it's yet another thing I'm not good at.
16
NOEMI
Sasha pushes his potatoes around his plate with his fork, making little trails through the gravy while I watch him from across the table. The hotel room service wasn't cheap, but Fyodor left cash on the dresser before he disappeared without telling us where he was going or when he'd be back, and I figured the boy deserved a hot meal after the day we had.
"The swords were my favorite," Sasha says, still not looking up from his plate. "Did you see the one with the jewels in the handle? It was probably worth a billion rubles."
"Probably more than that." I chuckle, remembering the fine craftsmanship of that specific sword. It was why I rushed us off to find Fyodor. I thought he'd like to see, and then I found him meeting with that unsavory man.
"I wish I could've touched it. I bet it was heavier than it looked, and the metal was probably cold." He finally takes a bite of potato and chews slowly. "The carriages were cool too.Mamochkawould've loved riding in one of those."
He's been bringing her up all day, and after more than a week of knowing she's passed on without talking about her, I can guess she's on his mind a lot. I take a sip of water and give him space to keep talking if he wants to, but he goes quiet and focuses on his food.
"What did you think of the eggs?" I ask after a minute.
"They were okay. Pretty, I guess." He shrugs. "I liked the weapons better. Seeing stuff like that is way more interesting than reading about it in books or doing math problems."
"You still have to do your math problems," I say with a smile.
"I know." He makes a face, sticking out his tongue, but then his face falls again. "Going to a museum felt more like going to school."
"That's a good point. Maybe we can find more museums to visit while we're traveling."
He perks up at that, his eyes brightening a little, and I love seeing him happier. I hate that he's so sad. "Really? Fyodor would let us?"
