Forcing herself up, she said to the ambassador. “Natasha is right. I had a fever last night but didn’t want to miss work.”
“Your dedication is admirable Minka, but it’s not good to work with sickness,” he said.
“I should leave,” Halston said.
He glanced at Natasha who shook her head. “Not today,” Natasha said, her tone stern.
“Minka, I need to talk to you,” he said. “It’s important.”
She pushed herself up. With trembling fingers, she collected the bottle of cold water. When she went to lift the ambassador’s breakfast tray, he took it.
“Can you walk or do you need Natasha to help you?” he asked.
She glanced at the wall of television screens. One still showed the photos of the kidnapped scientists. She would muster through the meeting, then leave.
For the first time since becoming a spy, she didn’t care about her job or her country. She was singularly focused on her parents.
At the moment, Dustin and Sonya Devereux were all that mattered.
20
WISE ADVICE
HALSTON
The ambassador ushered Halston into his office. To her surprise, he shut the door, something he’d never done before. Rather than direct her to the guest chair, he gestured for her to sit at the conference table—a noticeable shift for someone of his stature.
He sat at the head, she waited, clasping her hands on the table. Despite her cool demeanor, her mouth was bone dry. On the slow walk back to his office, she’d formulated a plan. Get through the meeting, complete whatever tasks he’d ask of her, then bolt.
She’d shown signs of being ill though she wasn’t—unless worry counted as a sickness. If it did, she was full-blown hospital-worthy.
While pretending to adjust her glasses, she tapped the button to start recording a snippet of their meeting.
“Minka,” he began. “Today is January 8, the date Petrov mentioned. It is extreme importance to our mission. The directive comes from the Kremlin. We must treat it with respectand discretion. I told you global balance of power would shift.” He cleared his throat, sat tall. “Today is the beginning of change.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I cannot leave my position here, you will go in my place.”
Her guts twisted into a series of knots.
Oh, no.
“Go?”
“You will be our translator. Natasha will take you to location?—”
“I’d like to drive myself so I can stop at a health facility.”
He hesitated, his intense gaze drilling into hers. She held her breath.
Say yes.
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows debating how to push back on this. He couldn’t force her to go.
“Minka.” His abrupt tone caught her ear. “Did you not hear me? This is from the Kremlin. You cannot be sick.”
