“No.”
“And we both know the CIA would deny I ever spied for them, so where is the evidence? I am just a tour guide. Ha. The very anonymity that has made me so valuable to your country is slapping me in the face.”
“There are ways to get out of Russia, unofficially. I could find you the money, ask around, get you a name. I’ll give you money now, everything I’ve got, everything I can pull together. I haveto leave on the train tomorrow night with the tour group, but I can?—”
“Money will not clear your conscience. Wherever I went, I would be an illegal immigrant, a shadow, prone to exploitation or worse. A life in the shadows is hard enough in my own country.”
“Nika, there’s nothing more I can do. I wish there was. Perhaps your family?—”
“My family will disown me to save themselves. You know this. They will guess I spied on them too—I told you right from the start I didn’t want to do that.”
“I didn’t force you to…” He trailed off. Defending himself for the sake of his conscience was hardly going to help.
“Besides, this is the reason I want this to look legitimate, so there are no ripples for anyone else, even them. Neat and tidy. Just the way you like things to be.”
“Nika, I feel sick about this, but I’m just as powerless as you.”
She stepped to the door. “Not so sick, I think. And also not powerless. Just gutless.”
“Nika—”
She left the bathroom, and he heard the room door open and close. By the time he pulled on his jeans and T-shirt and went after her, she was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 11
Alice
Present day
Once Alice and Carter reached Oxford Falls, she directed him to Kimberly’s house by tapping on his thighs for left and right. As they approached the house, she tapped the code for “stop.” He kept on riding, pulling up in the next street over.
“You think someone’s watching her house?” Alice said as she dismounted.
“Nah, just wanna get my steps up,” he said, unclipping his helmet. “First rule of tradecraft: never park right outside where you want to go.”
“Would they track my sister down? Is she in danger?”
“If the authorities can’t find you, then sure, they’ll come knocking on her door. And her name is likely to be in the document metadata on the transcripts, or they’ll be able to track the IP, so they’ll know she was involved. But it’ll take them a while to sift through what they’ve collected, figure out what’s important, make a plan. And if they figure out you’re on therun with me, they’ll assume we won’t be dumb enough to come here.”
“Little do they know. Wait—we’re not ‘on the run,’ are we? Sounds a bit …Thelma and Louise.”
“Which one am I?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Nah,” he said, “we’re just … checking a few things out.”
“Sure. Well, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t trust me not to call 911?”
“Just thought you’d like some company. Do you intend to call 911?”
“Haven’t ruled it out.”
As they skirted around the block, she got the feeling he was surreptitiously checking their surroundings. He gave her the all-clear to knock on Kimberly’s door—not that she’d been waiting for it. While they waited, he read aloud the nameplate nailed to the porch. “Dr. Kimberly Thornton, Grief Counselor.”
