Scott grinned. “Dima is very good at multitasking so I wouldn’t discount that. No, the reason we are all here in this room is because the only way any of us can meet in public is if everyone meets at the same time.”
Cain’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand,” he said flatly.
“I would be concerned if you did,” Dima said.
“If absolutely everyone is here,” Agata said, “then the inside man must be here too. The Kobra won’t attack us, while his inside man is with us. So, if two people must meet, then we all must meet at the same time.”
Cain’s frown smoothed out. “So, as Quinn and Noah must marry in public, everyone gets to come along for the ride.” Then he frowned once more. “Only, I thought you had determined who the inside man was?”
His gaze shifted to Lochan, who stood at the edge of the semicircle around the newlyweds, separated from everyone by two feet of space. His gaze as he watched Quinn and Noah made Dima’s chest squeeze.
Cain’s glance toward Lochan told her who had given him the idea that the inside man had been found.
Lochan persisted in thinking the worst of Dima because it made it easier for him to deal with Leela’s death. It gave him someone to blame.
“If I knew who the inside man was, then we would not be taking such precautions,” she told Cain. “I cannot say any more, of course. You have one foot on the inside, Mr. Warren, because the Kobra pulled you that far. However, for your own safety, I will not draw you any deeper. I get the impression that will be a relief to you.”
Cain’s smile was self-aware and ironic. “That is correct on both counts.” He took a sip of his drink, which was not champagne. It was colorless, and she presumed it was water.
Agata caught at Cain’s elbow. “Let’s sit next to Lochan,” she said softly. “He seems to like you.”
“I’m not sure if that makes him a fool or incredibly wise,” Cain said as they moved away.
“Lochan is super smart,” Agata murmured.
Cain’s smile as he glanced at her was filled with a heated emotion. “I guess that makes you even smarter.”
Agata’s smile turned into a soft laugh. Then they moved out of hearing range.
Scott shook his head. “I still cannot fathom how much the man has changed. Earlier, before the celebrant arrived, he was showing Agata a photo on his phone of herbs he’s planted in pots on their kitchen window. Yet I got the impression from his profile that the guy ate iron and shit bullets.”
“As you gave up on love a long time ago, I understand your confusion,” Dima said.
“The power of love?” Scott’s voice was dry.
“I rest my case.” She sipped her champagne. She would not drink more than this one glass. A full glass was probably too much, anyway.
“Although, Cain has a point.” He dropped his voice lower, which meant he was switching to business. Not that he ever really spoke about anything which was not business in one way or another. Even his assessment of Cain was actually a risk assessment, as he tried to decide if the differences in Cain were a risk to the unit or not. “It has been six months since the debacle in France. You’ve got us all running around on make-work assignments. Monitor this, observe that, report back.”
“Are you complaining?”
“You would know if I was complaining. But I am puzzled, and I thought I had a good handle on how your mind works. It has been six months. I’ve done what you said. You’ve refused to explain yourself to anyone, including me.”
“That’s the bit which really sticks for you, isn’t it?”
“I’m supposed to be helping you. I’m supposed to be your second. I’ve been off the shit since France. I didn’t take anything even when they were digging the bullet out of my shoulder. When are you going to trust me again?” A light in his eyes said this was the core of his complaint.
Dima sighed. Of course, Scott would find the silence more onerous than any of them. In this regard, he was sensitive, and with reason. “It isn’t a matter of trust,” she began.
Scott scowled. “Then what is the matter?” His tone was soft, but intense.
Leander came up alongside Dima. Like Cain, he was drinking water. His gaze shifted from Scott to Dima. “I suppose I would be wasting my breath suggesting both of you forget about work even for a few moments and enjoy the day?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “None of us has been working at all this year,” he muttered.
Leander’s gaze swept over Scott once more. It was the professional measuring a patient. “Feeling tension, Scott?”
“Fuck off, Doctor.” Scott’s tone was irritated.
Leander didn’t react to the curse. He raised a brow as he glanced at Dima. “Although, the tension is somewhat understandable. None of us has understood our work recently.”
“Your work is to do what I tell you to do,” Dima replied, with a snap in her voice.
“Which we have all done without question.” Leander’s tone was still reasonable. “However, I know that you know that maintaining morale in a group as small as this requires intimacy and trust.”
He didn’t add any more. He didn’t have to. Dima was well aware of how she had been straining the trust and cooperation of her team. “I suppose if I were to tell you there is a good reason for everything I have done lately and ask you to just trust me, it wouldn’t be enough, would it?”
Leander spread his hands, always the reasonable man. “I believe it is the lack of explanations which is gumming up the works and making Scott swear. Smart people can only work on blind faith for so long.”
Dima nodded. She was perfectly aware of this, too.
Leander had not finished, though. His expression was kind and also professional, as he said, “You cannot carry everything by yourself, either. From the looks around your eyes, I judge you haven’t slept well for weeks. You can’t go on without help. It comes down to a simple question. Do you trust Scott? If you do, then really trust him and tell him your plan. Scott can help.”
Lea turned away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dima said.
“I believe I have made my point.”
Scott rolled his eyes. Dima was not worried about the friction between the two. They actually liked each other, only Leander’s role as a profiler made Scott wary, because he was an intensely private man. He compensated for that discomfort by taking side swipes at Leander, who patted them aside with placid unconcern.
Leander didn’t look puzzled. “You are bringing us both in?”
“I am,” Dima said. She glanced around their shoulders. She couldn’t glance over them, for both men were tall. No one was paying any attention to them. Noah and Quinn were talking to the celebrant. Lochan, Cain and Agata were in a small group. Ren and Peter stood talking together.
“You are both right,” she told the two men. “It has been months. Long enough for something to have broken loose by now, only it hasn’t. So I’m bringing you in. We have to find another way to figure out who the barnacle on our backside really is.”
“Something only breaks loose if a great deal of shaking is going on,” Scott pointed out. “Yet for months we have been in such low gear, we’re in danger of stalling out. Or am I missing something?”
“I suspect we have both missed the point,” Leander said, his gaze steady upon Dima.
“Do you understand how barium works?” Dima asked them.
“Barium?” Scott said flatly.
“It’s an isotopic meal fed to patients, to enhance internal scans,” Leander said, his tone didactic. He was quoting from old lessons and textbooks. “The barium shows up on x-rays and scans.”
Scott’s lips parted and his eyes widened. “You’re talking about an ink test? You’ve been feeding us all bullshit to see where it pops up?” He sounded almost offended.
“I have,” Dima said, maintaining her calm. “Where you are wrong, Scott, is that the assignments I have given everyone have not been bullshit assignments. There has been a point t
o my madness.”
“We have been doing the x-rays and scans for you,” Leander said softly. “We just didn’t know it.”
Dima’s phone nudged her hip once more. She dug it out of her trouser pocket and glanced at the text message. There were three of them, and three missed calls. The last message told the complete story, though.
Answer your phone! Fabian failed to check into her Istanbul hotel. Not answering phone either. Are you up to something I should know about?
Poor Benny. He did not do well when he was cut off from information. Information was his lifeline and his entire profession. For six months, Dima had told him nothing of her plans, either. He had agreed to it, yet it did not sit well with him to be cast out as he was.
Dima put the phone away again. She would have to deal with that later. “Benny is being a protective father again,” she told Scott and Leander.
“Understandable,” Leander said. “Fabian nearly lost her leg and her life. He feels guilt for that, because it was his business which did it to her. Now he’s overcompensating.”
“I’ll talk to him later.” Dima looked at Scott. “Has Lochan been in contact with Fabian?”
“Weekly check-in, as usual. Just in case the Chinese sniff around her again.” Scott shrugged. “This barium thing. You’ve had me monitoring Ceuta for months. Is that part of the x-ray process?”
“Has something changed in Ceuta?” Dima asked sharply.
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “I really thought it was make-work, so I didn’t bother…” He straightened his shoulders and dropped his hands. “There has been a five percent uptick in Russian traffic to the port. There has been an increase in the administrative staff at the Russian-owned shipping company which supports the military ships that call in.”
“How many new staff?” Dima asked.
“Five. Not administrative support, either. I would call them mid-level managers.”
“Not high-enough profiles to draw the attention of the Spanish authorities,” Leander said. He looked at Dima. “What does Ceuta mean?”
Dima felt ill as she swiveled on her heel, shifting her gaze from Leander and Scott, swinging it around the room and making herself feel dizzy. She settled her gaze on Ren.
“Jesus Christ,” Scott breathed.
“Ceuta was Ren’s barium,” Leander finished.
[3]
Odesa-Kiev All Stops Train. A while later.
Fabian had the strangest sensation that she had known Mischa all her life. They talked easily. She was more comfortable with him than she had been with anyone for quite some time. The last man who had conversed with her one-on-one like this had been Lochan Solar. His had been purely her father’s business and he had been desperately in love with Leela, which made their conversation dry and businesslike.
Lunch was delicious and filling. It made her comfortable. So did the strong tea. She settled back in the seat, rare contentedness spreading through her.
They talked about anything and everything. They touched on politics lightly and spoke rather more about some of the strange corners of the world. Mischa was as well-traveled as she was, although his work did not take him to the volcanic hotspots of the world, as hers did. He knew cities well, while she knew mountains better.
“If I had to pick a favorite city, I would grind myself into a standstill,” he told her. “Every city has its own personality. Do you have just one friend?”
“I don’t really have friends,” she said. “My work makes it difficult to keep friends. Most of my work colleagues are friends.”
“I suppose you can go a long time between catching up with old friends, then.” His gaze was frank. Interested. “While you are working on Katla, you spend time with one set of friends. When you are working on Vesuvius, you catch up with a different set of friends. Yes?”
She nodded. “Although, it is not as discrete as that. Volcanology is a small world. We all move from assignment to assignment and project to project. Toni, a geologist I know, he turned up at Katla a week ago. He will still be working there when I move on to Java next month.” She shrugged. “The more senior scientists might stay where they are for their entire careers, though, directing the research on just one peak.”
“There, see? Many friends, all with different roles in your life. Cities are like that. I can’t pick just one. They all have different roles in my life.”
Fabian tilted her head. “You talk about cities as if they are people. What about the people in those cities? Do they not count?”
For a moment, he paused. A shadow fell in the back of his eyes. His smile was easy, though. “People let you down,” he said. “Cities, though, are consistent. They are always there for you.”
It was a dark thought. Fabian tried to offset it. “Only, the city cannot provide a warm shoulder of sympathy.”
He sat back, his smile growing even more. “I don’t know about that. An evening in a London pub, even if I were to speak to no one, gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Right here.” He bought his hand up to middle of his chest.
“Which has nothing to do with British ale, of course,” she said lightly.
“Of course not. I drink stout when I am in Britain.”
She laughed.
The conversation resumed along the same light and pleasant stream it has been following. Places they had known. Good times in different cities, or in her case, different campsites and hotels. Or, old rented houses, with twelve people camping in four bedrooms, and the potlucks dinners they could produce.
“Those dinners are something else,” she told Mischa. “It’s rare to have more than two people of the same nationality in a project. So the meals placed on the table cover a dozen different cuisines. We have all learned to make at least one dish which can feed a small army, that doesn’t use a ton of different and impossible-to-get ingredients.” She paused. “I think these potato pancakes might be worth adding to my portfolio.”
“Ukrainians like their food,” Mischa said complacently.
After lunch, Mischa offered to buy a second round of tea. “All this talk is making my mouth dry,” he confessed. “And as I really would prefer to continue talking, I must have more tea.”
He returned after a few minutes with fresh tea and slid into the seat and gave her a warm smile. His smile changed his face considerably, she realized. When he was not smiling, there was a grimace about his mouth, for he held it in a firm line. Yet his smile took all that away and made his eyes glow.
“You should be arriving in Kiev in a couple of hours,” he told her.
“Already?” She resisted the temptation to pull out her phone and check the time. “I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here so long.”
He was working hard on dunking the teabag, concentrating on it. He didn’t smile or respond to her observation.
“Well, I knew it was a trite comment, but it is true,” she added. “I guess I’ve worn out my welcome with one too many clichés.”
He looked up at her. His head moved from side to side in a microscopic movement. “No, that is not it.” His voice was low, with a note of tension in it. Then he added, “I mean, yes, I can’t believe the time has gone so fast either. Which baffles me and is mildly disturbing. I thought I was immune to such things.” His gaze dropped to the tea once more. A funnel creased his brows, now.
Wariness trickled through her. “Why do I feel as though I’m missing something?”
He didn’t look up this time. “That is because you are missing something,” he said quietly.
She held herself still. She waited. Dread grew in her chest. She was not a professional like her father. Cloak and dagger did not come easily to her. All she could think was that in some mysterious way in the last few seconds, he had figured out she was not who he thought she was. She had no idea what to do next.
Finally, he lifted his chin. His gaze was steady. Only, it was bleak. “I told you I was Russian,” he said. “What I didn’t tell you was that I worked with the Russian Embassy.�
� He paused, his gaze not moving. “One more cliché, that isn’t a cliché at all.” He said softly.
Fabian jumped. “Why are you telling me this?”
His gaze did not let her go. “I like you.” He paused. “I like you a lot,” he added, his voice harsh. “I wanted to tell you that and get it out of the way. Most Americans are wary around Russians. Especially this particular Russian.”
Her heart thudded. “You like me?” She felt inane repeating it, but it was so unexpected that she had to confirm it.
His mouth quirked. “You are a beautiful woman. You must have heard this many times before. You are flattering me by sounding shocked.”
“Believe me, I am truly shocked,” she said. “Prettiness is not a factor when one is wearing environmental suits they have been sweating inside of all for eight hours at a time.”
“I suspect you would be just as beautiful even then. It is in your bones.”
“The last man who invited me to dinner said he wanted to find out how smart I was.” She grimaced. “He was very proud of his two doctorates,” she added.
“Then he was a fool,” Mischa replied. “And he should have his doctorates stripped from him.” He pushed the teacup away with a compulsive movement and sat back. “Perhaps I should not have said anything.” He said it in a low voice, almost to himself.
“No, I’m glad you said it.” She hesitated. “The reason I lost my balance when the train swayed…”
His attention sharpened.
“I’m not clumsy,” she said. “It is my knee, you see.” Embarrassed, she turned on the seat and lifted her leg up, her hand under the knee to help raise it. She put her boot on the edge of the other seat, so her knee was cocked above the table, where he could see it. The flowing, loose fabric of her trousers molded around the brace beneath, now she had bent her knee. She wrapped her knuckles against the metal hinge, so it gave dull knocking sounds.
“A brace,” he said softly. He sat back. “You are self-conscious about it.”
“I suppose I am. That’s why I didn’t want to grip the handles on the sides of the seats the way everyone else was. So when this train shook, I lost my balance.” She rested her hand on her knee. “It only happened recently, you see.”
Heart Strike (Project Kobra Book 3) Page 3
