“Knife in the back. I pissed a guy off in a bar. If it hadn’t hit my vertebra it would have gone straight into my heart.”
“Where did this happen?”
“Can’t say.”
Court smiled a little. “How is he doing? The guy you pissed off.”
“Oh, he’s really pissed off now.”
Court imagined this was an understatement.
Now she reached out and put her hand on Court’s rib cage, traced the pink gash there. She must have felt it during their lovemaking, because he knew she couldn’t see it now.
Without prompting, Court said, “Nine-millimeter. This one didn’t break the ribs, either, but it took off a lot of meat.”
“It’s pretty fresh.”
“Yes.”
“Where did this happen?”
“Can’t say.”
“Who did it?”
He paused a moment. Normally, there was no reason for him to tell the truth. But with this woman, he couldn’t think of a reason to lie. He said, “Saudis.”
“Assholes.”
“These guys were.”
They both had other scars, other stories, but the talk of old fights gave way slowly to quiet, to softer touches over untainted skin, and then to new passion. Soon there was no more talking between the two of them. No more past, no more pain. There was just now.
Court figured it was close to nine a.m. now. He could see her face plainly, even in the closet, and he moved a strand of hair out of her eye and behind her ear.
She had been dozing while Court lay there, just thinking, but she woke now, then rose up onto an elbow, her eyes locked on his. She said, “Zoya. That’s my name. Zoya Zakharova.”
Court smiled. “Zoya.”
“It’s okay if you don’t tell me yours. I just wanted you to know mine.”
Court took what she said at face value, and he did not tell her his name. He had been thinking about something else when she spoke, and instead of shifting to follow along with Zoya’s train of thought, he said, “Let’s say the helicopter comes in today, and we move in to get Fan… do you have a plan for after?”
Zoya’s eyebrows furrowed; Court could not interpret the meaning behind the expression. Finally she shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to jinx today by worrying about tomorrow.”
“Maybe you could let me think about tomorrow for you.”
“What do you mean?”
He said, “You won’t be safe going home, you know that. You won’t be safe in a lot of places. SVR has reach, as you know.”
She smiled a little, but she’d lost the glow of just a few seconds earlier. “So you are going to protect me?”
“I can help. I can talk to some people. I’m sure they can bring you into the U.S. You’ll be safe there.”
“You’ll talk to people at CIA, you mean.”
Court nodded. “They are the ones that can make it happen. I’m sure they’d want to question you… but you can come to some sort of an agreement before you commit to anything.”
Court thought his idea was solid, and he thought Zoya would immediately agree it was the best plan, so her response surprised him greatly. “What are you doing?”
He cocked his head now. “What do you mean?”
Her body language had changed, her eyes had narrowed precipitously, even her breathing was different.
“Are you trying to recruit me?”
“Recruit you? No, of course not. I’m not suggesting you work for the Agency, just that you use them to get into the U.S. After that you can do whatever you want.”
Zoya said, “Right, and just think about how important you will be at CIA. You capture a Chinese defector and an SVR operative. You can do whatever you want.”
“Capture? I’m just trying to help. I’m worried about what might happen if—”
“Sure you are.” She smiled, but Court could plainly see anger in her eyes. “It took me too long, but I’ve finally got you figured out.”
“Meaning?”
“When you bugged Oleg’s car you thought you would learn something about Fan, but instead you heard an SVR compromise herself permanently to her organization. You knew I’d be desperate, ready to cling to any lifeline, and you came right in, tricked me by appealing to my sense of the mission. You’ve brought me along to go after Fan, but from the beginning this was about getting me into the U.S., just like Fan. The last two days have just been to set the trap.”
She sat up now, climbed out of the closet, pulled on warm-ups and a T-shirt from her bag. She stormed out of the closet, leaving Court there, staring at the ceiling.
Court was utterly gobsmacked. He truly had no idea how to respond. Finally he just said, “For God’s sake, that’s ridiculous.”
Zoya reappeared back over him a few seconds later. “Is it? Do I have it all wrong?”
“Yes, you do. I’m just trying to help.”
Zoya lowered back down, straddling Court now. He looked at her in confusion for an instant, but he kept his hands down.
“What are you—”
She interrupted him. “I’m sorry. As I told you, I have trust issues.”
His guard rose quickly, but not quickly enough.
Zoya held the Montblanc pen up into his face, pointing it right at his nose. She depressed the trigger, and the charger exploded in his face with a solid pop.
But nothing came out.
She pulled the pen away slowly. The American stared at her, his own eyes narrow now.
“Do you want to get off me, or would you rather I throw you all the way across the fucking room? It’s your call, but make it quick.”
Zoya slipped off the man, then walked over to the bed and sat down.
Court stood now, pulled his cargo shorts on, and stepped into the bedroom. He took a chair across from her and sat back down. “The Montblanc was positioned in my pack with the clip facing in and the lid just slightly loose. You put the clip back exactly right, but you tightened the lid. I noticed in Bangkok, just after I left you alone in the room. I removed the powder canister here, the night before last.” He pulled it from his pocket and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.
Zoya said, “So much for trust.”
Court replied with derision. “Look who’s talking.”
She got up now, stormed past Court to the patio, then sat on a recliner by the pool. He followed her out. She put her head in her hands, and after a long time she spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
Court stood in the doorway. “Yeah. Me, too. I put the blowgun back because I wanted to see if you would try to use it.”
She pulled her head out of her hands and looked across the suite at him. “I thought you were too good to be true.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You don’t know my life.”
Court thought about it a moment, then crossed the patio and sat down in front of her. “I think I do. Like you said last night, you and I have a lot in common. We’ve traveled down the same road, can’t you see that? I see it, I see what you are up against now, and I was just trying to help.”
“Why?”
Court looked out to sea. The massive yacht was still there. A brilliant white in the morning sun. “I have my reasons.”
“When you said you would talk to the CIA about taking me in, I thought you were trying to do to me what you have been sent to do to Fan. Obviously recruiting me would help your career. Why wouldn’t you want that?”
“It won’t do shit for my career, because I’m not an employee of the CIA.”
“Right. That’s what everyone in CIA says.”
“True. It’s also what people who aren’t in the CIA say. I’m one of those people.”
Zoya wasn’t buying it; Court could see it on her face.