“She said it was better that I didn’t know the details,” Carter said, feeling like he was betraying Nika. They’d talked a lot over the years about how she would handle an interrogationby Russian authorities, but never U.S. authorities. He hoped she knew better than to lie. She was innocent, that he was sure of, and if they both stuck to the truth, they wouldn’t risk contradicting each other.
“That’s all? You didn’t press her?”
“Of course I did. Look, I know Elena pretty well…”
“Evidently,” Schneider muttered.
“As in, we’ve had a close professional relationship for four years. I’ve always found her entirely trustworthy.”
Silvia’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “I’m not sure someone who routinely sells a foreign power information about her country’s secrets can be considered ‘trustworthy,’ but go on.”
“And yet we trust people all the time. It’s how the system works. We constantly assess people’s integrity.”
Silvia tapped her pen on the printout, leaving indented dots. “You’ll forgive me for nottrustingyour instinct on that point, given the circumstances in which the two of you were found this morning. An undeclared illicit relationship with an asset lowers your credibility somewhat.”
“Whether you’re looking for a mole or a murderer or both, you’re looking in the wrong place,” Carter said, slowly and deliberately. “My job was to get the intelfromthe Russians and get it out. I didn’t have anything to channel back the other way, and neither did Nika. I knew more about what the Russians were doing than what our side was doing, and even that was only snatches of intel. Neither of us would have been much use to the other side.”
“Mr. Beck, let me share with you a few pieces of evidence that might move this conversation along,” Schneider interrupted, pulling several photos from a cardboard folder and sliding them across the table. “These were taken by the embassy staff member who found the body while visiting the safehouse to search for the deceased, having discovered he had planned to meet Elenathere. I apologize for the graphic nature of these photos. You’ll see there’s a lot of blood, though fortunately for the autopsy, the body was well preserved, given the freezing temperatures in Moscow that week.”
He wasn’t kidding about the blood. The poor guy lay on a pale carpet, a bullet hole through his chest, another through his forehead. Another angle showed a bullet to the neck. Carter guessed that was the first shot—a little wild but enough to take him down so they could finish him off.
Schneider leaned forward and tapped a spot on the photo. “What do you make of these marks on the carpet, here beside the body?”
“Not an expert, but they look like bloody shoe prints.” Carter had to fight to keep his voice level.
“Anything distinctive about those shoe prints?”
“Not for me to say. I’m sure your forensics guys will tell you.”
“They look like high-heeled shoes, don’t you think? There’s the sole and there’s the heel. The kind of print stilettos would leave, yeah?”
“Could be.”
“It’ll interest you to know then, that we have retrieved a pair of red stiletto boots from your hotel room that exactly match the print. Here’s a photo. I’m assuming these are not yours.”
Carter resisted the urge to swallow, aware that both Schneider and Silvia were watching his reaction intently. “No, they’re not.”
“You can confirm these are Elena’s then?”
“Again, that’s a question for her—she has a lot of shoes.” Carter made a point of keeping his tone casual.
“What’s more, we have detected what appears to be traces of blood on one heel. The sample is being analyzed to determine if it’s a match for the victim.”
“Okay.”
“Next up, a video recording,” Schneider said, opening a laptop and pressing a few keys. He spun the screen to where they could all see it. “The street outside the safehouse. This was taken a few hours before you left Moscow. You see there,” he said, pausing the playback, “a man arriving at the safehouse. Do you recognize this man, Mr. Beck?”
“Looks to me like the station chief.”
“For the sake of expediency, I’ll fast-forward,” Schneider said, jumping ahead on the recording. “Twenty minutes later, we see a woman ringing the bell and being let in. Can you identify her?”
“I’m sure you don’t need my assistance with that.” Carter’s head was beginning to throb, but that was well down his list of problems. It was obviously Nika, down to her red stilettos. The same ones she turned up to the train station in.
“Fast-forwarding again,” Schneider said, choosing another point along the progress bar. “Here, at around thirty-five minutes, the same woman exits the apartment.”
Carter watched, focusing on keeping his breath steady as the door opened. Nika appeared, clutching a large envelope. The footage glitched but Carter could see the fear in her posture, in the way she checked left and right and skittered down the steps. She hesitated and looked back at the open door. After a moment, she ran back up the steps and shut it. As she disappeared down the footpath, the interview room remained silent.
“You say you know her well,” Schneider said, after leaving it to sink in. “What do you make of her demeanor?”
