“Shut up!” My words were like weapons, trying to tear hers from the air so I didn’t have to hear them. “You lie to me! You tell me nothing but lies, all this time, and you expect me to believe you?!”
“Look at me,” she whispered. Her voice had changed and it was more than just the tears. It was slower. More country. It was the voice I’d heard in my hotel room in Boston. Her real voice.
I shook my head.
“Look at me,” she begged,
I shook my head again. I was trying to stoke my anger higher, so I could do what needed to be done. She was lying. I had to kill her and then call Grigory in here and find a way to dump the body—
“Konstantin,” she sobbed, the tears overwhelming her. “Look at me, please!”
My whole body was screaming at me not to. Its lies, all lies….
I looked. Just for a second. But a second was too long. Once I looked, I couldn’t look away. Her eyes were swimming with tears and I saw—
Innocence.
Goodness.
And not a trace of deception. She loved me. She really did love me.
The feeling rose up inside me, expanding, filling me up. It cracked the ice into a million shining shards.
I pulled her towards me. My palms slid on her tear-wet cheeks and then my lips came down on hers.
55
Hailey
I’D BEEN THROUGH so many emotions in just a few minutes: panic, guilt, fear. And now, as he tilted my head up and kissed me, hope. It was a tiny, fragile flame: if I even breathed too hard, it would go out. But it was there. I opened under him, desperate to show him this was right, this was real.
He was savage, kissing me with the full force of his anger, wanting to hate me. But I didn’t pull away, I stood there and took it, letting all the rage and hurt boil down into me, Yes. Yes, I lied to you. I lied to you and I’m sorry. My hands were on his sides and I could feel his body tighten and tighten as he fought with himself: he was a hair’s breadth from hurling me across the room, picking up the gun again and shooting me. I sobbed and kissed and prayed….
And at last, I felt his body relax. He gave a low growl and settled into it, one hand burying itself in my hair, the other sweeping down my back and clutching my ass, pulling me into him. The kiss changed, turning soft and slow... and deep. He sought me out and explored me. He’d told me all his secrets, but he didn’t know me at all. Who are you?
I answered, opening up to him, hiding nothing. I was the woman he’d met back in Boston, the one I’d been trying so hard to hide.
And he liked it. The kiss began to move and change, taking on a rhythm, firm presses of that hard upper lip, and slow strokes of the lower one. The room filled with our panting.
He finally broke away and stared at me, his chest heaving. “Glasses,” he said at last. “In Boston, you wore glasses.”
“They fixed my eyes,” I said. My voice sounded weird and unfamiliar. I’d gotten so used to Christina’s.
He stared at me for another few seconds. “I liked you in glasses,” he told me.
A big, hot wave crashed through me. He’d liked me even before—
He put a hand between my breasts and pushed me back against the wall, then scowled down at me. His voice was like granite, telling me this is how it is going to be. “If you ever, ever lie to me again—”
“I won’t,” I said meekly.
He stared at me silently for a few seconds. Then he looked down at the crushed earpiece on the floor. “They won’t just let you walk away,” he told me. “As soon as they realize you’re not loyal to them, they’ll come in here and take you from me.
I went cold inside. I couldn’t let that happen.
“There’s only one way this works,” he told me. “Come away with me, right now.”
My eyes widened as I realized what he meant. “To—”
“To Russia, yes. In six months, a year, we can come back. But for now, we have to get far away from them.”
My stomach lurched. I’d be turning my back on everything and everyone I knew and loved. But we’d be together. It only took me a second to decide.
I nodded.
“Pack a bag, quickly. We might only have minutes. I’ll have the jet made ready.”
He gave me one last kiss and hurried off. I stood there frozen for a second, struggling to come to terms with how much had changed in such a short time. My eyes fell on the bullet hole in the wall. We’d come that close….
I shook it off, ran into the closet, and grabbed Christina’s suitcase. I started throwing in clothes. I felt different. Lighter. Even my tooth had finally stopped hurting. This is actually happening. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to be—
A phone rang. But not Christina’s phone, or Konstantin’s phone. I didn’t recognize the ringtone and it sounded muffled. On the second ring, I lifted up the suitcase because it sounded like the phone was underneath it. But the ringing lifted, too. The phone was inside the case.
I opened up the secret compartment Calahan had shown me. And underneath my FBI badge and my gun, I found a pocket. With shaking hands, I pulled out a cellphone, attached to a power bank that had kept it charged. It had been sitting there this whole time, and there was only one person who could have hidden it there.
I pressed the button to answer the call and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hailey,” said Calahan. “What’s going on?”
56
Hailey
“I’M OKAY,” I said quickly. But then my throat closed up. How could I possibly explain? How could I tell him I was turning—I felt sick—traitor and running away with the enemy?
I’d underestimated him. “The phone’s a secret,” he said. “No one else knows about it. When you went off the air, procedure says I should have called in the cavalry and rushed in to get you. But….”
And I heard it in his voice: worry, frustration... and just a hint of jealousy.
He already knew.
“...but if there’s something you need to tell me, first….” He left it hanging in the air, a plea for me to come clean.
I closed my eyes, mad at myself. This was Calahan, my friend. Of course I had to tell him. I took a deep breath and then it all came spilling out: my attraction to him, even before the mission, what happened in his hotel room in Boston, how we’d fallen for each other, how he wanted me even now he knew who I was. “He’s taking me to Russia,” I finished breathlessly.
I heard the rasp of his palm rubbing his stubble. “Hailey,” he started.
“I know. I know what you’re going to say, I haven’t forgotten what he is. But if you knew him like I knew him….” For once, I used his first name. “Sam, I love him. And he loves me.”
I heard Calahan’s chair creak as he rocked back in it and imagined him sprawling there, hands over his eyes as he debated.
I held my breath.
Calahan sighed. Cursed. “Go,” he said at last. “But make it fast. I’ll cover for you as long as I can but Carrie and the others will figure it out soon.”
“If they find out you covered for me, you’ll be in trouble,” I said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Go. Go, Hailey, go and... be happy.”
I heard that tiny pang of jealousy in his voice again and my chest tightened. He deserves to be happy, too. “Thank you,” I whispered. And ended the call.
Less than five minutes later, we were in the Mercedes, speeding towards the airport. There was no sign of pursuit yet but Grigory wasn’t taking any chances and had his foot hard down. Meanwhile, in the back, Konstantin was on his phone, looking up the number of a Russian government contact who could help me arrange an emergency, last-minute visa. I dug out my own phone so I could call her.
Weird. My phone was off. I turned it on and waited for it to boot, trying to remember why I’d turned it off. Then Konstantin was reading me the number and moments later I was speaking to a woman in Moscow, painstakingly spelling out Christina’s name, the address of the
mansion, her passport number, and date of birth... the woman was polite and efficient but the questions seemed to go on forever and we were nearly at the airport before we were done. I thanked her and sat back in my seat with a sigh of relief. Then we were pulling up outside the terminal and hurrying past the crowds. Konstantin went in front, his size and attitude clearing a path for me. Thanks to it being a private flight, we breezed straight past check in and security and we were jogging across the runway towards the jet when my phone rang.
I stared at it in confusion. I recognized the number: Calahan. But why would he be calling me now? To try to change my mind? Or to warn me the FBI were moving in? I put the phone to my ear, still running. It was loud, out here, with planes roaring overhead as they came in for landing, and I had to shout. “What is it?”
Calahan was panting, frantic. It sounded like he was talking from a moving car, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“What?” I yelled.
“Arrest him!” repeated Calahan. “Hailey, everything’s changed. You have to arrest him!”
57
Hailey
I STUMBLED to a stop. Ahead of me, Konstantin kept running. I pressed the phone hard against my ear, shutting out the din of the aircraft overhead. “What?” I asked. “What do you mean, what’s changed?”
“The photo you sent, of Grigory putting that case into the trunk of his car?”
Now I remembered why my phone had been off. I’d shut it down when I was hiding in the basement garage, just after I’d taken the photo. And the last few days had been a non-stop rush: I hadn’t turned it back on since. The photo must have been sitting in my outbox and it had sent as soon as I’d turned my phone back on. Even as I’d been running away with Konstantin, I’d been unwittingly sending one last piece of evidence to the FBI. “What about it?”
“There was a model number on the case. I ran it through the computer. Hailey, it’s a Russian sniper rifle, designed to punch through bulletproof glass. That’s what Grigory was delivering for Konstantin. That’s the “tool” the guy you met at the shopping mall needed.”
It made sense. One of Grigory’s jobs was managing weapons for Konstantin’s men. He was the perfect person to get hold of a rifle and deliver it. My stomach lurched: I already knew what Calahan was going to say next.
“Hailey, it’s an assassination. Konstantin paid that guy at the shopping mall a quarter of a million dollars to murder someone!”
I shook my head. “No!” Ahead of me, Konstantin had realized I wasn’t with him, and had spun around to look. He frowned, worried, as he saw me standing there on the phone. “He wouldn’t do that,’ I said. “Not cold-blooded murder.” But a creeping dread was spreading through me.
“That’s exactly what he’d do. Hailey, this is Konstantin Gulyev! He wants to take over the city and if he’s trying to kill someone protected by bulletproof glass, someone so important it costs a quarter of a million—”
“...it must be one of the other crime bosses,” I finished for him. Killing one of them would trigger the gang war the FBI feared, the very reason I’d been sent to take Konstantin down in the first place. I wanted to throw up.
“We’re on our way,” Calahan said. I heard the screech of tires in the background. “But we won’t get to the airport in time to stop him. You have to do this.”
Konstantin was running back towards me, now. “What’s the matter?” he called. “What’s going on?”
The dread reached my heart, my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Calahan was still talking, telling me to do it, do it now, but my arm went limp and I dropped the phone to my side and just stood there, staring at Konstantin as he approached.
I can’t.
But I had to. I could accept what Konstantin was but I couldn’t be party to this, to cold-blooded murder and the war that would follow. Hundreds of innocents would die in the crossfire.
Unless I did the unthinkable.
Konstantin reached me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Hailey! What’s the matter? Who’s on the phone?”
The dread changed to hot, jagged pain. I’m so stupid. Everyone—even him—had warned me about men like him and I’d ignored them. I’d believed a criminal could be honorable. Carrie’s voice rang in my head. She’d been right. I’d forgotten who I was. I’d forgotten I was FBI.
My vision swimming with tears, I felt for the secret compartment of my suitcase and shoved my hand inside.
Konstantin’s voice was gentle but panic thickened his Russian accent. “Hailey! We have to go!”
Tears welled and heated and then, as my fingers found the grip of the gun and closed around it, they spilled free and started running down my cheeks.
He stared down into my eyes, his own eyes icy blue and full of worry. I remembered telling him at Battery Park that I didn’t need to know his secrets, that I trusted him. How could I have been so wrong?
He gripped my shoulders hard. “What’s the matter? Hailey!”
I pulled out the gun and pointed it right at his face. “You’re under arrest,” I panted through my tears.
58
Hailey
THE FBI OFFICE should have felt like home, but being back there felt... wrong. The buzz of conversation, the smell of bad coffee... even my gray FBI suit felt scratchy and alien. I stared at the paperwork on my desk, undisturbed since I’d flown off to meet Konstantin. I’d been gone two weeks. It felt like a lifetime.
I needed to be busy, so I wouldn’t think, but there was no more surveillance to be done. Not now our quarry was a prisoner downstairs.
Prisoner. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Konstantin’s face when I’d arrested him. There was a party atmosphere at the office: we did it, we caught him. Someone had opened a bottle of champagne and was pouring glasses. It made me want to break down and scream.
I’d lost him. I’d torn us apart forever, betrayed him in the cruelest way possible, just after he’d spared my life and given me a chance.
But I’d had no choice. Had I?
There was no one I could talk to. The FBI agents all thought I was some sort of hero, sympathetic about what I must have had to go through at the mansion. I needed Calahan, but he was being debriefed and might be hours. He’d managed to cover for me, claiming that I’d alerted him to Konstantin making a run for the airport.
After an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went down to the interrogation rooms, careful on the stairs because I was still wearing three inch heels. I’d changed clothes because I wanted to leave Christina behind as fast as possible, but I hadn’t had any spare shoes at the office.
I found Carrie in the observation room, staring through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room. I hesitated in the doorway, keeping my eyes off the mirror. I’d come down here to see Konstantin but, now that I was here, I couldn’t face seeing him.
Carrie saw me, marched over and pulled me into the room and then into her arms. “Good job,” she told me. “Very good job.” Her voice was shaky with emotion.
I squeezed her back. The mirror was behind me, now, and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up: I could feel Konstantin’s brooding presence in the room beyond. I’m not going to be able to turn around.
Carrie pushed back from the hug and studied me. “I know it can’t have been easy,” she said carefully. “I’m glad you’re back with us.”
I said nothing. While I’d been at the mansion, she’d heard enough over the earpiece that she must at least suspect that I’d fallen for him. But she was letting me come home, all sins forgiven, because I’d delivered her the prize.
I nodded. “It’s good to be back,” I said weakly.
Carrie looked over my shoulder, towards the one-way mirror and Konstantin. “He’s not talking,” she told me bitterly. “Not a goddamn word.”
What?! “That makes no sense!” I looked at the clock, panicked. “The email said the assassination would happen at 1pm. That’s in two hours. We have enough to pin it on him. If he lets it hap
pen, he’s going to jail for twenty years!” I felt ill: I’d wanted to stop a gang war, but the thought of Konstantin caged in a tiny cell until he was an old man…. And if the assassination went ahead, the war would still happen.
Carrie shook her head, scowling. “Maybe it’s worth it to him, to see one of his rivals fall.”
I turned that over in my mind. It didn’t feel right. Konstantin had a sense of honor. I still had trouble believing he’d murder one of his rivals in cold blood. But even if that was true, he wouldn’t want to rule New York from prison. Why wouldn’t he cut a deal and help us stop the assassination? With his lawyers, he could be out in five years instead of twenty.
I had to see him. My chest so tight I could hardly breathe, I slowly turned around.
A huge, hot lump rose in my throat. They’d chained Konstantin’s wrists and ankles and then chained them together, like he was some kind of animal. He sat there in silence, glowering at the mirror. I knew he couldn’t see us, but it felt like he knew I was there. His eyes burned into me. Why did you do this to me?
I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. I’m sorry! “Let me have five minutes with him,” I told Carrie. “Maybe I can get him to talk.”
Carrie turned and frowned at me, searching my face for any shred of deception. But I had no ulterior motive: I just wanted to stop the assassination and the gang war that would follow, the same as her. If I couldn’t, everything I’d sacrificed would have been for nothing.
“Please,” I begged.
“Five minutes,” she told me.
* * *
I opened the door. He looked up and saw me and—
He turned his head and looked away, glaring at the mirror. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Of course he hates you. What did you expect?
The Double Page 22
