The train’s resident pianist approached, carrying a satchel. Carter nodded as she passed.
No, he was not fucking okay. He already had one missing woman in his life. He could quite possibly go insane with two: their last words rolling around in his head, the what-ifs invading his thoughts for hours at a time—days, sometimes. And sure, he wasn’t in love with Nika, so it wouldn’t be the same as withVanessa, but hewasresponsible. And like with Vanessa, would he always wonder if he could have done more?
Screw it. He grabbed his carry-on bag from his berth, strode down the passage and let himself out as the second whistle blew. First stop: Nika’s apartment, though he’d have to be careful. Aprovodnikcalled to him in Russian, the words muffled by the train’s engine, but he got the gist.
And then another voice.“Zdravstvuy, moyo solnyshko.”
Carter swiveled so fast he almost fell. “Nika?”
She was hurrying along the platform, clutching a blue overnight bag, wearing a cream coat and scarf. Her normally tamed hair was messed up, her face was drawn and she wore no lipstick, though the customary heels—the red stilettos—tapped along the concrete. Theprovodnikwasn’t shouting at Carter—he was shouting at Nika.
“Darling,” she said as she reached him. She placed her cold, bare hands on each side of his face and kissed him briefly on the lips. “We are married,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t mind?” She held up an envelope. “I have a marriage certificate, recognized by both our countries. Spousal visa for the USA. Tickets through to Beijing and then America. I did not get a ring for you—I figure you are okay with the one you have. Don’t look so worried—it is genuine, all of it. We will have no troubles.”
“How—? What?—?”
“I am not as helpless as you might think.”
“I’ve never thought that of you.”
“Ah, but I was dispensable. So, I made myself indispensable, sorted out a few things standing in my way.”
The guard shouted again.
“Come on, husband. Don’t just stand there. Time to go to America.”
“Nika, what did you do?”
Chapter 14
Alice
Present day
The last of the light was fading as Alice and Carter arrived at the cabin, having stashed the bike among the surrounding conifers. It was one of several old state-park log cabins in a clearing, the pale, uneven chinking between its dark brown logs creating a striped effect. The kind of place you’d see in a magazine:Romantic Getaways on a Budget.Or possibly:Spooky Settings For Your Next Indie Horror Film.
“So, what’s the long story?” she said with a faux breeziness, as they stepped onto the rough stone porch. He pulled a fabric pouch from his backpack and unrolled it to reveal a set of what looked like dental implements. He carried quite the compact spy toolkit—along the narrow track from the road he’d set up a camera trap that would send an alert to his phone if anyone passed, though he’d assured her they weren’t being followed. For possibly the first time today, she realized, she didn’t feel terrified—well, not about the FBI, the Russians, and the random people in the sedan. But she was a little skittish about being here alonewith him. Not that she felt in danger, not in that way. But that cabin looked tiny, and he took up a lot of space.
“What long story?” he said, crouching to examine the lock on the door.
“When I asked about this place, you said there was a long story.”
He drew a long, skinny tool with a jagged top from its pocket. “Not so long, actually.”
“Just a thing you say when you don’t want to answer the question?”
“Yep.”
She tsked, remembering how he’d shut her down earlier when she said she didn’t like to see anyone hurting.
He inserted the tool into the lock and jiggled it. “I came up here once with my wife, before she was my wife. When we were in training.”
“At The Farm? I mean—what is it?—Camp Peary? That’s a fair distance.”
“We were supposed to be out on the road practicing surveillance detection routes but it was a load of bullshit, so we snuck away for a night and found the most out-of-the-way place we could in the vicinity of where we were supposed to be.”
“Would anyone know that?”
“Doubt it. Back then you could pay cash down at the visitor center for a night’s stay. We used one of her aliases for ID, but they didn’t even use a computer, so I’m guessing there are no digital records. And boom, we’re in.” He pushed the door open.
