“You kidding? I’m on my second cup of coffee. You want some?”
“I’d love to but I am buried by work.”
“I’ll go get your girl.”
Esme led Lana into the living room, then disappeared down a short hallway. Minutes later she emerged with Emma in tow.
Lana’s daughter rushed up and hugged her tightly.
What a difference a year makes, Lana thought, hugging her back. Ninth grade had been a misery for Emma, and for her, too.
“Please thank Tanesa for me,” Lana said to Esme. “And thank you, too, for having Emma.”
“It was a pleasure, I assure you.”
On the way home, Emma said, “It’s bad this time, isn’t it, Mom?”
“We’ll see.” Lana answered as vaguely as she could in good conscience, squeezing Emma’s hand. Her daughter looked well rested. She was glad to see that, but certainly not about what her findings at Fort Meade portended.
As she drove toward Bethesda, her thoughts were drawn less to the metadata square she’d uncovered and more to that Moscow apartment building.
A lone wolf. A common intelligence term for a terrorist operating with strict independence. The words came to her as if on their own.
But in the heart of Moscow? Surrounded by all that interest in every aspect of this case?
That could not be a coincidence. But she had to allow that it was remotely possible. What she had not found was evidence indicating Russia’s traditional use of “patriotic hackers.” Indeed, the FSB appeared to not only be involved, but a vital link. And that strongly suggested official jurisdiction, even as the Russians denied every charge.
Which only made the possible lone wolf in that apartment more mystifying.
“Mom, you missed it!” Emma said.
“Missed what?” Lana thought of the Russians: what had she missed?
“Our turnoff.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Lana had to get her mind back on the road. And then she had to get it back on that apartment building in Moscow as fast as possible.
What’s going on in there? she asked herself again.
It was time to drill into the metadata. Time to see the content.
CHAPTER 10
Galina thought she’d collapse from exhaustion by the time she carried Alexandra up the steps to their second-floor walkup. She wished she could have spared the six-year-old from being carted around all day, but she couldn’t leave her with anyone. Alexandra was so anxious that she could not bear to be separated from her mother, even for a short time. Six, seven times a day, she asked, “Mommy, am I going to die?”
“No, you’re not going to die. I promise. Mommy would never let that happen to you.” Words spoken from the heart, yet so painfully empty of real meaning.
Now Alexandra asked again, clutching her bunny blanket close to her neck on the couch where Galina had just laid her down.
“No, I promise,” Galina said, then checked her messages and heard the oncologist’s receptionist confirming Alexandra for tomorrow morning. “Payment in full is expected before the appointment,” the woman added at the end.
Why would she say that?
It was as though she knew Galina didn’t have her money yet.
The pediatric oncologist was in such demand — with cancer rates sky-high in Russia — that he had his choice of patients, so he chose to take the ones wealthy enough to “augment” his income. That was how his assistant had put it, as though a fancy word would somehow make the payment less of a sleazy bribe.
Galina was prepared to pay under the table, happy to pay for the best medical care — and had certainly earned more than enough money to handle the extra bills that were never expressly invoiced — but Oleg had dribbled out only enough rubles for living expenses. He was controlling her — as he always had. And it infuriated her. He never would have dared to try it with the rest of his “team,” those killers who worked for him in America, or the one who had basically hacked his way aboard the U.S.S. Delphin.
Galina had made headway tracking down the submarine hacker. Not who he was exactly, but his trail in cyberspace. She was now certain that he acted out of Donetsk in eastern Ukraine. She’d seen video of the dead American sailors, sickened by knowing that she was an unwitting player in a larger plot that linked her to the monster who’d killed them. What also weighed on her conscience was that she now understood without question that turning over the information about AAC to Oleg had led to two gruesome murders in the States.
Oleg had made the whole project sound like a great environmental dream — hack the AAC and save the planet. Save the children. Save all the animals.
But instead it was just kill, kill, kill.
When she did identify the sub hacker — and she thought she could — she knew precisely whom she would pass it on to. She’d have her choices because there would be plenty of buyers for that information. Two could play the game of betrayal, and she’d pit her skills against Oleg’s.
And your life, she realized at once. And Alexandra’s.
She sat back, recognizing the gravity of that step, and all the chess pieces that would have to be moved — if she were to forge ahead.
Think about it. Think hard.
Alexandra looked like she was settling down. Time to get back on the tail of the sub hacker. But first she ran to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth. Then she hurried back to Alexandra and placed it on the girl’s brow, rubbing gently. Not to cool her off because of a fever or one of her pounding headaches, but to wipe away any trace of Oleg’s touch. Galina’s skin had almost crawled off her body when he reached into the elevator and rubbed her daughter’s precious forehead. It was like he was cursing her.
Condemning her.
Fears that made her realize you didn’t need to believe in the devil to understand evil.
“There,” she whispered to Alexandra, who looked ready to rest. “Get to sleep, little love of my life.”
Words that pierced her own heart. She used to call Oleg the “big love of her life” to distinguish between her man and child, the way her heart had gone out so fully to both. She needn’t make that distinction anymore.
Twilight was peeking around the blinds as she sat on the couch next to Alexandra, still moving the cloth gently against her daughter’s forehead. She kept the blinds drawn all the time now, worrying constantly about surveillance, the FSB breaking in and sending her to Siberia, then dumping Alexandra in a medical ward with the children of other parents who couldn’t afford to “augment” their doctors’ incomes.
Alexandra reached up, stilling her hand. “Is there something wrong, Mommy? Do I have a black spot from him?”
“No, don’t be silly,” Galina said as gaily as she could, but she knew she sounded grim as a grindstone. She laid the face cloth on her lap and kissed Alexandra’s cheek. “Sleep, the big-big love of my life.”
She started toward her home office as a series of knocks pounded the door, startling her and Alexandra, too, who now sat up, holding the bunny blanket so tightly her knuckles were white.
Galina hurried to the door and stared through the peephole. “Who is it?” she demanded, knowing the dire answer even as she spoke.
“Police. Open up.”
Oh, God, what’s he doing to us? Galina had no doubt that Oleg was behind the two policemen at the door, even if he wasn’t in the hall.
She drew open the locks. A hulking man stared at her. He bore a neck tattoo of crossed axes that signified veterans who had been part of a secret military unit notorious for its atrocities in Chechnya. The other cop could have been a clerk in a supermarket. Tattoo spoke up: “You must come with us.”