From Russia With Claws (20 page)

Car Trouble

G
ALINA
W
AS
I
N
T
HE
R
ESEARCH
L
IBRARY
of the museum looking into the provenance of a donated painting, when her phone rang. Nik. She stepped out into the back hallway so she wouldn’t disturb the other patrons.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Galya! Can you get to a television?” Nik’s voice was as close to frantic as she’d ever heard it.

“I…I’m not sure,” she said, walking as quickly as she could to the employee break room. She rarely used it, but perhaps there was a TV in there. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Papa,” Nik managed to get out before a burst of voices on his end drowned him out. “Meet me at Irina’s as soon as you can. I have to tell her.” He hung up.

“Nikolai!” She looked at her phone in astonishment, a cold feeling of dread pooling through her extremities. “Damn it!”

She was nearly at a run now, not caring who saw her. She had to get to a television. There was something wrong and it had to do with Papa. Galina barreled into the break room, mercifully empty at this hour, and turned on the television. As she waited for it to warm up, she pulled up the Internet on her phone to see what was going on. There didn’t appear to be anything, but even in e-reporting there was a delay.

The local channel had halted regular programming for breaking news. A helicopter team was filming at the scene of an accident that had all lanes of the freeway blocked. Galina watched in stunned silence as the camera zoomed in on the wreckage of a car, getting close enough to get a shot of the hood, engulfed in flames. A wolf’s head hood ornament shimmered in the fiery haze.

She felt her face grow cold and then burning hot. Galina dropped into a chair, knees giving way in shock. Papa. Papa’s car—with Papa presumably in it—was on fire. More than that, his car was in pieces
and
on fire. She watched numbly as the reporters relayed information about the scene, but it was like her ears had stopped working. She heard nothing.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Galina stared at it stupidly, as if she suddenly didn’t understand how the thing worked. Blinking, she answered.

“Are you okay?” Andrey’s deep voice held a faint edge of fear as he almost yelled his question at her.

“I am. But Papa…” She trailed off because she couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Papa was forever. He was an old lion, but she never thought he’d die. Not like this.

Andrey’s voice was soft. “I know. I saw the news. Where are you?”

“At work.” How could she be answering him so calmly?

“I’m coming to pick you up.”

The small, fully functioning part of her brain kicked into overdrive. “No, don’t do that. You should be comforting Irina, not me.” If Andrey were seen with her it might cause problems. They still needed to maintain the ruse that he was interested in Irina. “I’ll be fine.”

She could swear she heard the sound of teeth grinding. It made her want to laugh in an entirely inappropriate way. Is that what shock felt like? She’d never experienced it, so she didn’t really know what it was like. “I’m sending Konstantin to get you and take you to your sister’s house. I will meet you there. You are not driving yourself, not in this state.”

It was a measure of how stunned she was that Galina didn’t even bother to object to the order. “That will be nice for Nik,” was all she said, thinking that he brother needed someone to offer comfort to him.

“He’s on his way.” Andrey told her. “Galya, be careful. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” She waited until he disconnected before she got up on shaking legs and went to find her supervisor.

Konstantin walked with her into her sister’s house, his hand beneath her elbow. He’d told her that Andrey would be along as soon as he could get away from the chaos that the car bomb had caused. The bodyguard hadn’t said much on the ride over to Irina’s, his mouth set in a grim line. Galina had stared out the window, her thoughts scattered and unfocused. She was glad he didn’t say anything other than to ask if Nik was okay. Galina hadn’t known what to tell him. She wasn’t sure any of them were okay.

She opened the door to the house and went straight to the living room, where the television was blasting all the news of the crash. She watched dully as they showed another close-up of the burning wreckage. The emergency vehicles were finally getting through the massive traffic jam.

Irina ran to her, hugging her tightly. Galina wrapped her arms around her sister, feeling Irina’s body-wrenching sobs. She buried her head in her sister’s neck and stayed there for a long moment, just happy to have someone to share the pain and shock of it. Then Galina realized that Papa always had a driver. And Viktor wasn’t at the house.

No. Oh, no.

Nik came up behind Irina and enclosed both of them in his arms. The three of them stood there, holding on to each other, none of them wanting to be the first one to let go. Finally Nik pulled away, eyes red.

Galina glanced at the television, then looked away quickly. She didn’t want to see any more. She didn’t want to think of Papa in there. Of Viktor…She grabbed Irina’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Has anyone heard from Alexei?” she asked.

“I’ve called and left messages with him,” Nik said. “I know he was out of town last night. He should be on his way back by now. I’m still waiting to hear from him.”

The door alarm beeped as Andrey ran into the house. He crossed the space separating them and wrapped her in his arms. Galina allowed herself to lean against him, if only for a moment, before breaking away. “We’re not alone,” she warned.

“That’s bothering you now?” His voice held a note of fondness. “Who’s going to say anything? Nik and Konstantin? Irina?”

Galina had to admit Andrey had a point. Nik and Konstantin had a bigger secret to keep than they did, and Irina was mourning two people. “I guess not.” She made a mental note to reapply the Eau d’ Wolfsbane she carried with her to help mask Andrey’s scent. While it did make sense that she might smell of him if he came by to visit Irina, there would be no way to explain how his scent had gotten all over her.

“This is the kind of day where I wish I’d never gotten out of bed.” Galina felt numb, like the news of her father’s death still hadn’t sunk in yet. She knew she hadn’t processed it yet, even if she’d seen the flaming wreckage on television.

Andrey said nothing, simply pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for being here,” she whispered, her voice perilously close to tears. She gritted her teeth. She would not cry. Not here.

“There’s nowhere else I would be,” he answered, pulling her down on the couch so she was in seated in his lap.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Galina said, “I don’t know what to do about the Bullet now that Papa’s…” She couldn’t finish the rest.

“I’m going to have to deal with your brother.” Andrey lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. “At some point anyway.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t have it coming,” she agreed. Swallowing, Galina wondered what was wrong with her. She should be more worried for her elder brother, but Alexei had long since squandered whatever good will he may have stockpiled.

“Where’s Irina?” She hadn’t seen her sister since Andrey arrived.

“I think she went to lie down upstairs.” Andrey’s hands kneaded into painfully tense shoulders. “You should rest.”

“I think it’s going to be a while before any of us can do that,” she told him, resting her head against his shoulder.

The doorbell broke Galina out of her stupor. She’d been sitting on the couch, leaning against Andrey, doing her best not to think about anything. She looked at Nikolai who blinked as if surfacing from a dream, unsure of whether he wanted to wake up. Andrey moved to answer the door, but Galina put a hand on his knee. It was probably just one of the other families coming by to pay their respects to Irina.

Instead of a Demidov or Oniayev, a man with dark hair cut in the Captain America special stood at her door. He was in his mid-thirties, generically good looking, and had that apple pie appearance common to federal agents. He wore a dark blue windbreaker over a white polo shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. Galina looked behind him and saw a blue panel van, similar to the white one that had been following her, parked across the street. A black SUV was parked behind Andrey’s Audi.

The man flashed his credentials. Standing before her was Assistant Special Agent in Charge John Gregory of the FBI. How lucky for her.

“Special Agent Gregory. I was wondering if you had time to answer a few questions, Mrs. Volkov?”

“Sudenko. Galina Sudenko. Mrs. Volkov is my sister and she’s sleeping upstairs.” Frowning, she opened the door wider to let him pass.
Assistant
Special Agent Gregory knew damn well she wasn’t Irina.

“Ms. Sudenko, I am sorry for your loss.”

He came close to sounding like he meant it. “Thank you,” she murmured, leading him into the kitchen. “Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you,” he said, sitting down in a chair at the kitchen table.

Galina poked her head into the living room. “Nik, I need you.”

Her brother joined her in the kitchen. “Nikolai, this is Assistant Special Agent Gregory,” she said, emphasizing the Assistant. “Agent Gregory, this is my brother, Nikolai Sudenko.” She went to the coffeepot and poured out two cups. “Nik, Agent Gregory said he’d like to ask us some questions.”

“I was hoping to speak to Mrs. Volkov,” he began.

Nikolai cut him off. “My sister is indisposed. Losing her father so soon after her husband has been quite a blow.” He leaned forward, a pleasant smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure you can understand.”

“Of course,” Gregory answered. He folded his hands on the table.

Galina carried the mugs of coffee to the table and sat next to Nik. “You’ll forgive me for being blunt, Agent Gregory, but our father just died. What do you want?”

Gregory looked from her to Nik and then back to her. His eyes assessed them, determining which tactic he should use to get what he wanted. She could almost see him discard one plan for another. Wrapping her hands around her mug so she didn’t wrap them around his throat, she waited.

“Do you know of anyone who would want your father dead?”

He’d gone with the direct approach. She appreciated that. She didn’t have the patience left to pussyfoot around; she was very close to curling up into a ball and pulling a blanket over her head, hoping to wake up and find this was all just a nightmare.

Taking a breath, she shook her head. “No, not that I can think of.”

Nik agreed. “Same here.”

Agent Gregory’s jaw jumped beneath his skin. He was gritting his teeth. He knew they were lying, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Are you sure about that? Your father had no enemies?”

Galina took Nik’s hand in hers as if she needed his support. “People loved my father,” she said.

“How did you find out about your father’s death?” A small smile played around his lips.

Nik squeezed her hand tightly. He wanted to jump across the table and rip out the agent’s throat; she knew that because she wanted to do the same thing. “I was filing some papers at the courthouse. Our housekeeper called me—she saw it on the news.”

Agent Gregory’s gaze met hers. His eyes were a dark blue, cold and flat. She could see her face reflected in them, two small Galinas trapped in his gaze. “Nikolai called and told me to turn on the television.”

“And where were you?”

Now it was her turn to study him. She put everything she had, everything she was feeling—the rage, the pain, the loss—into her stare. “I was at work. The Seattle Museum of Art. I’m an assistant curator there. Which you already know because you’ve had two agents in a white van following me around for weeks. So exactly what are you hoping to unearth with this little fact-finding interview?”

Nik’s hand tightened on hers, reminding her that he was there. She leaned back in her chair. She hadn’t realized she’d pushed herself forward so that she was lunging halfway across the table at the agent.

“My apologies, Ms. Sudenko.” Agent Gregory didn’t look sorry at all.