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was too late. I was with my parents, the car skidding towards the cliff
Arianna! It was Luka. Stay with me!
I focused on his voice, on the exquisite, perfect solidness of him, my anchor in the here and now. I
opened my eyes and I was out of the flashback and back in Moscow.
I hauled on the wheel and managed to get us round the corner, though we clipped a parked truck.
Luka gripped my arm hard, keeping me in the present. He was firing out of the window with the other
hand.
I sped through the twisting streets. There were several loud gunshots, but all I could do was stare
at the road ahead, go as fast as I could and pray a bullet didn t hit me in the back of the head. After a
few more corners, the sound of the car chasing us seemed to fade.
There! yelled Luka, pointing. Go there!
I looked. A big, open doorway led to an indoor market. I aimed for it and then hit the brakes as
soon as we were inside.
We came to a stop with the car half-covered in rugs and carpets and a guy yelling at us in Russian
that we d ruined his stall but at least no one was hurt. Luka pulled me out and carried me through
the crowd, then planted me down on my feet and grabbed my hand. By the time the other car caught up
with us, we d disappeared into the crowd.
***
We have to change our appearance, I told Luka. We d left the market through a rear entrance
and were moving through a maze of alleys.
He blinked at me. You really are a spy.
I can talk in Russian, remember? I said in Russian. Less conspicuous. Although my Russian
accent wasn t great. I d only had to understand Russian, back in Langley, not speak it and convince
people I was a local.
I was shutting out the panic and fear, now, and going step-by-step through what I d learned in my
basic training. All the stuff Nancy used every day, the stuff I d never thought I d need. Thank God for
my memory.
Luka s phone rang. He grabbed it and put it to his ear, pulling me into an alcove. I could feel the
tension in his body& .and then he relaxed. My father is okay, he said.
I let out a long breath. Given how pale Vasiliy had been, last time I saw him, I d feared the worst.
Yuri got him to a doctor?
Yuri is the doctor.
I stared at him.
It s fine. Yuri was a medic in the army.
At least tell me they went to a hospital?!
He shook his head. A safehouse. He looked at my expression. It s fine. Yuri will have knocked
him out with vodka and then dug the bullet out and stitched him up. It s his third no, fourth time.
Please say this hasn t happened to you!
No. Well, only once. Bullet hit my leg. Hardly counts.
I shook my head in disbelief. It was a miracle any of the Malakovs were still alive.
We found a department store that was open late and I led him through it, buying up clothes and
make-up. Then we found the grottiest, seediest hotel we could, a place where they d take cash and not
ask questions.
A half hour later, I stepped out of our room s tiny bathroom. Luka was sitting on the battered bed,
his face lit up by the weak bulb in the bedside lamp. He came to attention when he saw me. Wow,
he said.
What I d done wasn t subtle.
I d based the look on the people I d seen at the Underside of Heaven club. Rich and yet cheap
and tacky. With everyone looking for us, trying to be inconspicuous wouldn t work. We had to be so
obvious and loud they d look right past us.
I was in white knee boots with a towering heel and a ridiculous number of laces up the front.
Fishnet stockings, then a tight dress in metallic blue made of some gleaming, sparkling fabric that had
to stretch to allow me to walk. Over the top I had an ankle-length padded jacket in shiny black, like a
latex fetishist s sleeping bag. I d gone heavy on the make-up, my lips a vivid red and my eyes dark
and smoky. The crowning glory, though, was the wig.
It was gleaming, silky and blonde. Blonde like only one of Luka s old girlfriends could do.
Arrow-straight, the hair reached right down to my mid-back.
Wow, said Luka again.
I d dressed him in expensive black pants and designer boots, with a flashy belt and an eggshell-
blue sweater that matched his eyes. He d drawn the line at a chunky chain around his neck but the
effect still worked. We looked like a pair of rich kids out for a good time. Or, possibly, a hooker and
her pimp. Fashion-wise, there wasn t all that much difference.
He held out his arms to me and I climbed onto the bed. The springs squeaked given the sort of
hotel this was, they probably saw a lot of action. As if to back up my suspicions, a rhythmic banging
started in the room next to us.
Despite everything, I laughed. Who do you think they are? Two lovers, on their honeymoon?
Luka snorted. More likely boss and his secretary. Wife thinks he s working late. He looked at
me. Or hooker, with client.
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