Identity

by Nancy Ann Healy

  He shook his head.

  “Then trust your wife,” she said.

  “You and Alex care about Claire,” he pointed out the obvious. “Alex because of Cassie.”

  “No. It might have started that way. That isn’t the case now, and you know it.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry. I worry—about all of you.”

  “What about you? I’m not thrilled about you stepping back into this,” Jonathan said.

  “This? This isn’t only what we do; it’s who we are. I’m not the one who is chasing the past here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you and Alex, even Claire—you’re are all on the same mission. You can dress it up any way you like. You’re all trying to vindicate your fathers somehow. You think you can redeem them or explain what our fathers have done. That’s where the three of you differ from me and Cassidy.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is so. I love my father. Cassidy loves Jim. We accept that we will never understand nor find a way to justify what they did. You and Alex—even Claire—you need to let go of you want them to be and accept who they are.”

  “That’s not an easy thing to do when you don’t know who your father way, El.”

  “Maybe not. You worry more about your children.”

  “You don’t think that I’m worried about our son?”

  Eleana sighed. “I know you worry about him. You have to let your anger go, Jonathan. That’s what endangers all of you the most. Worry about who you want to be, and not what your father might have done.”

  Jonathan started to mount an argument. Eleana’s compassionate gaze stopped him. She was right. He often wondered who he was. The man he knew as his father pushed him at every turn toward a life at the CIA. The father he’d never had the chance to know had taken every measure possible to divert him from the agency. Who would he have been if he’d been raised with Alex and Nick? What would his father tell him—ask him—advise him?

  “Trust me,” Eleana said. “Claire would rather die than betray Alex or Cassidy.”

  That worries me equally.

  NEW YORK CITY

  Alex stared at the assistant director. Another fraud case. Another case that Alex was confident a rookie could handle. Silence lingered.

  “This is bullshit,” Claire complained.

  “You think your assignment is bullshit?” FBI Assistant Director Gabe Breer asked.

  “I don’t think it’s bullshit, it is bullshit.”

  “There is no such thing as a quote, ‘bullshit assignment,’ at the FBI.”

  Claire rolled her eyes.

  “Brackett,” Alex warned her partner.

  “Oh, come on, Toles! This is bullshit!” Claire looked at the Assistant FBI Director sitting across from them. “What exactly is your problem with us?”

  “Agent Brackett, I strongly suggest that you change your tone.”

  “Or what? You’ll fire me?”

  “Brackett,” Alex called through gritted teeth.

  “You can’t be serious, Toles. This agency sucked us both back in to solve a case they couldn’t handle, and now they want to sideline us? That is what I call bullshit.”

  The assistant director slammed his fist on the desk. “Enough! You are dangerously close to insubordination.”

  Claire mocked him with another roll of her eyes. “If anyone is insubordinate, it’s you.”

  “That’s it—”

  Claire stood and placed her badge and gun on the desk. “Save your breath. I’m just curious, AD Breer, when was the last time you solved any case?”

  He stared at her.

  Brackett laughed. “That’s what I thought. If Toles here wants to deal with your bullshit, that’s her decision. I quit.” Claire turned on her heels and left the office.

  Alex threw her head back, closed her eyes, and groaned.

  “Do you share your partner’s views?”

  Alex opened her eyes and met AD Breer’s gaze. “What partner?”

  WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT

  A couple of hours with Grandma at lunch managed to settle down Connor and Abby. Fallon was exhausted from the excitement and napping. Cassidy was relieved. She sipped a glass of iced tea and sighed contentedly.

  Helen giggled. “It’s nice to have a little peace, isn’t it?”

  “God knows, I love them. There are days—”

  “I seem to recall those days. How are you holding up?”

  “Alex told you about what she and Claire are doing,” Cassidy surmised.

  “She told me enough.”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. One or both of them is likely to get hurt—and I don’t mean physically.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m sure there are things that I don’t want to know. I’m not sure anything would surprise me. It’s funny.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not the one digging into the past, or unearthing the worst humanity offers itself. Somehow, it seems I’m the least surprised by what they discover. I never thought I’d become that cynical.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’re cynical. You’re practical, Cassidy—hopeful, but practical.”

  “Mm.”

  Helen decided a change of topic was in order. “How’s Dylan?”

  Cassidy smiled. “Terrific. He loves it at the Academy. He’s hoping to get into the summer term. Flying—flying. That’s all he thinks about. There’s a waitlist for classes. I suspect we won’t have him home much this summer.”

  “Pulling some strings?” Helen teased.

  “Nope. He would never forgive me, Candace, or Jane if we did.”

  “Proud.”

  “Determined,” Cassidy said. “He reminds me so much of Alex.”

  “He’s a bit like you too.”

  “I miss him,” Cassidy said.

  “I don’t blame you. We all do.”

  “I think Kenz missed him the most.”

  “He’s still coming home next week?”

  Cassidy smiled. “Thankfully. I just hope Alex is able to be here. Dylan will understand if she isn’t. Alex will never forgive herself.”

  “She’ll find a way,” Helen said. “Maybe seeing Dylan is what she needs.”

  “Needs?”

  “Mm-hum. We both know that she loves the kids equally. Dylan is—”

  “I know. You know, it’d been that way since the moment they met. He’s worshiped her, and she’s worshiped him.”

  “They both worry about disappointing the other.”

  “Stop worrying,” Helen advised. “That’s impossible.”

  “I know that, and you know that. I wonder if they will ever realize their disappointment is their own.”

  Helen grinned. “Hard lesson to learn,” she replied. “I told Alexis that once long ago. Before you had Mackenzie. She’s always looking to understand a past that isn’t hers.”

  “Mm.”

  “Dylan too?” Helen asked.

  “I think so—in his way. Look at him. He took three things with him when he left that struck me. A card Chris gave him on his sixth birthday, the model plane that John gave him, and his Saint Alexander medal.” Cassidy sighed. “Always trying to make the pieces fit. The father he knew. The father he resembles, and the parent he loves. Where does he fit?”

  “Those questions aren’t your fault, Cassidy.”

  “No. They are my doing. Maybe that’s why I am able to forgive my dad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we all have failed somewhere as a parent—we’ve all told ourselves the universal lie.”

  “Which is?” Helen inquired.

  “That what we do is for the best of our children. We believe it. Turns out, most times it was only what seemed best for us at the time.”

  “Ah. I don’t know about that,” Helen said.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No. I think we do the best we can—most of us. We go off tr
ack occasionally. Sometimes, self-preservation is all we have. Without it? We would fail our children even more. But, I think you’re right.”

  “About?”

  “Why you are able to forgive. You see your parents as human, Cassidy. Alex, Dylan—they see something else—heroes or villains. All they actually want, is a human.” Helen chuckled. “They haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “Think they ever will?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. Nicolaus chased his father’s ghost forever—always trying to prove himself. He alienated his children on that quest. I hope they learn. As much as you’d like to teach them, it’s a lesson only life can provide.”

  Cassidy nodded. Truer words were never spoken.

  MINSK, BELARUS

  THREE DAYS LATER

  Eleana accepted a drink from her host. Illya Kiska was a Belarusian national. The son of a former KGB agent and a Ukrainian mother, Kiska’s political ideology had been shaped by the Chernobyl disaster. He was born and raised in the village of Krasnosel’e. He was a teenager at the time of the nuclear disaster. Kiska, like most people, had been oblivious to the contamination raining down upon his community. His naiveté ended when he was resettled with his mother in the town in Vietka along the banks of the Sozh River. Even now, in Vietka, the soil remained contaminated.

  It had been worse for his Ukrainian grandparents. They were evacuated from their small village on the outskirts of Chernobyl; told that their departure would be temporary. Despite warnings and law, they returned to the village five years later. His grandfather died less than two years later from lung cancer. His grandmother still lived in the small cottage he remembered as a boy. Evidence of the effects from radiation exposure to people and the environment permeated life throughout much of Ukraine and Belarus. His father had remained loyal to the Soviet Union even after its collapse and climbed the echelon at the KGB. Kiska walked between worlds. On paper, his loyalty rested with the SVR (Foreign Intelligence Service.) Assigned to Minsk, Kiska was charged with supervising a small force of agents dedicated to exposing any democratic uprising. For the past two decades, his true mission was funding opposition movements.

  Eleana regarded Kiska as a trustworthy friend. Today, he seemed agitated. “Illya?”

  “I wish you would reconsider.”

  “I can’t.”

  “This is not the time, my friend.”

  “Is there ever a time?”

  Kiska smiled. “I suppose not.”

  “What makes this time different?” Eleana inquired.

  “Much. Instability, my friend. I can’t remember a time with so much instability.”

  “In Belarus?”

  “Everywhere. Eleana, Europe is at war with itself. Discontent permeates the Union. Surely, you know that.”

  “That isn’t exactly new.”

  “No. It is precarious. Movements to the right in Europe, movements to the left in Ukraine and here—all of it destabilizing the region. It serves one person.”

  “Kapralov.”

  “Kapralov. Pyotr Gregorovich is as close to the president as anyone I know. Many believe he is simply Kargen’s replacement. He is much more than that. You are walking into the devil’s den.”

  “What have you heard about President Reid?”

  “In Russia or broadly?”

  “Both.”

  “Ah, to the left, she is a folk hero. To the right? A danger, Eleana. She seeks stability—not the status quo—stability. They are not the same. Ukraine has waited for years for the EU to come to its rescue.”

  “What does that have to do with Kaliningrad?”

  “Everything. President Reid has made overtures—here, Ukraine, and she is wildly popular in Scandinavia as well as Germany and Poland. That’s a concern for Kapralov—strategically. If she persuades the majority of European countries to extend their hand to Ukraine, it could topple the Belarusian regime as well. That is not in Kapralov’s plan.”

  “How does Gregorovich figure into this?”

  “Think Atomen and Biocon.”

  “Go on.”

  “He’s successfully negotiated Atomen’s way to build nuclear plants in Turkey, Finland, Hungary, India, Bangladesh, not to mention here in Belarus—and most recently, in Iran. Could there be a better strategic initiative for the Russian Federation? Kapralov has his hand on uranium across the globe. He’s got the global switch, Eleana. You know as well as anyone what can be derived from a nuclear plant.”

  Eleana did know—nuclear weapons. “And, that’s what you think he’s doing in Kaliningrad? You think it’s nuclear?”

  Kiska laughed. “That wouldn’t be new. Why do you think they demanded that tiny strip of land?”

  “You’re saying Russia already has nukes there?”

  “Of course. Our country has weapons placed in Germany—in Italy, Belgium, and the Netherlands, not to mention Turkey.”

  “You don’t think they’re looking to weaponize something through Biocon? Illya, the applications for—”

  “It is something less conspicuous,” Kiska said. “You are meant to jump to the conclusion that Kaliningrad houses a WMD. Don’t forget who you are dealing with, Eleana. You have been away from this for some time. Kapralov and Gregorovich have not. Do not look at the obvious clues. They are likely to send you in the wrong direction.”

  “Jonathan says there’s evidence that the SVR is diverting resources from Russian villages along the Ukraine border.”

  “That surprises you?”

  “Nothing that happens surprises me, Illya. What does Russia have to gain by starving small villages?”

  “Where do you think uprisings swell, Eleana? In the city? In Moscow or in Minsk? You must remember that who we regard as a freedom fighter, Kapralov views as a terrorist. Recruitment happens in the city. Organization—”

  “So, it’s a deterrent?” Eleana asked.

  “And a warning.”

  “How do we get Claire on the inside?”

  “Are you certain she intends to follow this through?”

  “It’s Claire,” Eleana reminded him.

  “He will test her,” Kiska advised.

  “She can handle it.”

  “I will make the overture for The Sparrow. If Gregorovich bites; it will happen quickly,” he said.

  “She’s ready.”

  “Are you?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Know so,” Kiska replied. “Your time here is no secret, Eleana. There will be exposure for you—all of you. There can be no doubt where you are headed.”

  Eleana nodded. “I understand.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I understand.”

  WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT

  Alex put her phone on the bedside table and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Cassidy observed.

  “When did you get home?”

  “Just now.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Drunk—I think, and nice try. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  Cassidy folded her arms across her chest, and Alex chuckled.

  “Alex—”

  “I swear, Cass; nothing is wrong. Dylan just called and said Jane would drive him up on Saturday.”

  Cassidy took a seat on the edge of the bed. “And, you were hoping to pick him up on Friday.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “Why didn’t you tell him that?”

  “I don’t know. He was excited about his plans. Steph is going to be in town, and Jane said she’d take them all to dinner on Friday. He hasn’t seen Steph in months. They’ll be here by early afternoon on Saturday. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to you,” Cassidy said. “You made arrangements to be there to surprise him.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to tell him that.”

  “Maybe you should’ve told Jane.”

  “How was I supposed to know she’d pick him up!”

  “You
could still call her.”

  Alex shook her head. “He was excited. Everybody’s excited lately,” she mumbled.

  Cassidy forced herself not to laugh.

  “Do you know that I offered to take Kenz for pizza after school tomorrow and she said, thanks, but no thanks?”

  “That’s not what she said.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Alex.”

  “Okay, she said that she was sleeping over at Mom’s because Mom is chaperoning her field trip on Friday.”

  Cassidy grinned.

  “She still could’ve gone for a pizza with me!”

  “Why don’t you take Connor instead?”

  “Think he’d want to go?”

  Cassidy finally gave up and laughed. “Yes.”

  “What about you and the girls? I mean, I know Fallon will make a mess, but we could all go together.”

  “Ask Connor tomorrow morning if he’d like to have a ‘date’ with you for pizza,” Cassidy said.

  “You’re up to something,” Alex said.

  “Stop.”

  “You are.”

  “There is no conspiracy here, Love, only a suggestion.”

  “Uh-huh.” Alex grabbed Cassidy and hopped on top of her.

  “Alex! What are you doing?”

  Alex started kissing Cassidy’s neck. “Investigating.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Yes. My mother isn’t the one who’s drunk.”

  Alex pulled back. “I’m not drunk.”

  Cassidy arched her brow.

  “I told you a long time ago, that I have to get close to something to investigate.”

  “What exactly do you hope to discover?” Cassidy asked.

  Alex offered her a cheesy grin.

  Cassidy sniggered.

  “Keep laughing, Mrs. Toles.” Alex pinned Cassidy’s arms over her head. “I have ways of making you talk—or scream.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Don’t test me,” Alex warned playfully. “I still carry handcuffs.”

  Cassidy’s laughter filled the bedroom.

  “That’s funny?”

  “It is if it was a threat.”

  Alex was puzzled.

  “Sounded more like an invitation,” Cassidy deadpanned.

  Alex feigned offense for a second before tightening her grip on Cassidy’s wrists. “Be careful what you wish for.”