“If it was her, don’t you think she’d at least shake her head no or something?”
“She doesn’t want to,” Viktor says.
I sigh.
“It’s her.”
After a while I say, “We can’t send you in.”
He spins around with a wild gaze. “You have to.”
“Look at you! I won’t put you in danger like this.”
“It has to be me.”
“No. We’ll set somebody else up to go in,” I say. “A new person, a new identity.”
“That will take weeks extra!”
“We wouldn’t have lost this kind of time if you’d come clean about this.”
“We can’t wait that long!”
I pull him up from the couch. “That is not Tanechka!”
“You have to let me go in.”
“It’s dangerous for you and dangerous for the whole crew on standby,” I say. “How do we know you won’t try to go to her?”
“Because I wouldn’t endanger her like that.” He shakes out of my hold. “That’s why you must trust me. Look—I won’t go to her unless I think she’s in immediate danger. I promise you. Once we set up surveillance and start turning their people, I’ll be able to understand what she’s doing and support her, protect her. I promise, I won’t run to her. I will not be a cowboy, brat.”
I gaze into his eyes, wanting so bad to trust him.
“I love her. I would never endanger her. I seek only understanding. It’s our mission.”
I look over at Yuri. He tips his head, inclined to trust his old friend. I study the screen. The bid on her is in the high six figures. God, is it going to go to a million? There really are a lot of scumbags out there. “You promise me when you go in for Nikki, you won’t suddenly be searching for the nun?”
“Unless she’s in danger,” Viktor says.
“Immediate danger, like a fire.”
“Immediate danger. I promise. Don’t worry. I won’t be fucked up,” Viktor says.
“She’s so high-profile, she’ll be guarded. You get that, right?”
“Of course,” Viktor says. “And you need to understand, if Tanechka wanted to leave this place, she would be gone. Tanechka can care for herself. She’s up to something. Our success in bugging them and spying on their computers will only help her.”
“Fine.” It makes sense, and more than that, Viktor doesn’t lie to me. Except by omission, apparently. “You missed my money-laundering operation meeting. I could’ve used you for strategy.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I close my eyes. “I need you back.”
“I’m fine.”
“Make me believe it, brother.” I wave my hand around his place. “This is not making me believe it.”
“I missed a meeting,” he says. “Yes, I am guilty of that.”
I give him a look.
“Brat.” He gestures at the screen where the nun prays. “It’s all good.”
I sniff. “You know why I came over here? Kiro. We have a lead.”
He straightens, eyes wide. “A lead on Kiro?”
“A possible ID on the guy who probably took him. Guy named Pinder. Remember how he posed as a professor? This guy actually was a professor at some no-name school.”
“You think it’s him?”
“Two aliases, two death certificates, and three warrants for arrest on fraud and impersonation? I’m thinking yeah. He’s got hunting land in northern Minnesota that’s in some kind of legal limbo. I’m having our pilot fuel up.”
“Kiro.”
“Look at you. Drunk, exhausted, and like a fanatic. You should sleep.”
“Fuck you,” he says, and that makes me feel a world better. “A lead on Kiro. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What did I just do? Get your boots and jeans. We’re taking two parties of five. Carlo and a few of the guys are grabbing supplies. It’s a huge swath of hunting land.”
Viktor glances at the monitors.
“We can shut these off, right?” I say. “If anybody outbids you for Nikki today, you can just put in another bid when we get back.”
He goes to the monitors. I can see him struggling. He wants somebody to stay and watch Tanechka at least, but he knows he needs to get control of himself. He needs to show me that. He closes all of the lids, then heads up to change.
They’re probably still recording. He’ll review the stuff when we get back, and it’ll get worse once we have audio and computer surveillance on the place, but he’s torn himself away for now. That’s a good thing.
Chapter Three
Tanechka
I pray, kneeling, sometimes crying—not in self-pity, but in gratitude. This hardship is a gift for which I am grateful. Every day this hardship makes me stronger.
I pray until my knees scream.
Then I pray more.
Sometimes I feel rage, but I don’t act on it. I simply allow it to rise and fall, just as the sisters at the convent taught. They taught me that rage doesn’t make me a bad person, but that I cannot act on it.