I let out a breath as water showered down on me in big drops. It fogged in the air, misting and blurring my vision.
The gun smoke quickly dispersed, revealing an absolute mess of a room with Lieutenant Adam lying in the middle of it. His hands and arms were spread-eagled, giving sick twitches. He was like a headless scrap-metal puppet, broken.
The obstacles, the gunpowder—all that big talk, and this was how he ended up. I wondered if he was even worth the price on his head.
Slowly, I walked over to him, knelt in the thinning pool of blood, and reached into his chest pocket.
There was a photo of a woman of cold beauty, an expression I had never seen on her face. I took the photo for myself, careful not to get any blood on it.
“If I’ve got even one ruble left, then I win,” I said.
—Take that.
✦ ✦ ✦
None of which meant I could strut into Lubyanka Square like I owned the place.
Instead, I had to creep up, keeping my eyes peeled in every direction, so that by the time I arrived, I had to admit I was exhausted.
There was the black Volga, as usual, outside the headquarters of the KGB—Organ, next to the toy store. And as usual, standing beside the car was a man in a distinctive yet totally nondescript black suit.
“So you’ve come, comrade,” he said, his voice as sharp as ice and just as cold. “It seems you didn’t get caught in that…traffic jam.”
“Yeah, I managed, comrade.”
He might have been the same man I’d seen last time—I couldn’t tell them apart.
That was how it usually was with KGB operators. They were all the same. So it was fine if I acted like I knew the guy.
“’Course, if you knew it was me, I might have appreciated a little help.”
“We have many enemies of our own, comrade.” The man in the black suit stood beside me, also keeping a certain distance.
The two of us gazed out at the spectacle of Moscow at twilight. The gray sky, the gray city, the gray snow. The evening sun gave all of it a reddish tinge.
I heard the man in the suit let out the slightest breath. “It would have broken us to take on three organizations at once.”
“Gotta be better than going to work knowing a double-O agent might show up.”
“Want to trade places, then?”
“I think I’ll pass.”
We shared a dark laugh. I didn’t actually know how much work this man had done.
But he had certainly done some.
There was no sense that we shared our exhaustion or that we cared about each other—absolutely none.
“More important things,” I started.
“I know,” the man said. “I guarantee Miss Moscow is safe.”
I didn’t like it. So I pressed, “And my little brother and sisters.”
“Don’t worry. At the moment, they have no political value.” Meaning, the man said, his voice softening just a bit, “It’s safe to say that all of you have proven your value many times over.”
I clicked my tongue softly. “Tsk.” I wasn’t stupid enough to miss what he was saying.
I reached in the pocket of my body armor and took out a handful of microfilm. I tossed it to the man in the suit, who took it without blinking and put it in his own pocket.
“Is there anything else, comrade?” he asked.
“No, comrade,” I said, shaking my head. “Glory to the motherland.”
He gave me a single nod, then got in the Volga. I was sure he had somewhere else to go and more work to do.
As I watched the sleek black car roll away, spitting exhaust fumes, I muttered, “I’m not gonna complain.”
Then I turned on my heel and started walking.
I peeled off my balaclava, the cold air immediately stabbing my cheeks.
I knew very well how I had made it safe this far. That wasn’t a situation I could have survived on my own. Even that guy in the black suit probably would have been helpless by himself.
I went around the back of the building, where there was a brand-new GAZ truck waiting. Three kids stood idly in front of it: a boy with a guilty look, a black-haired girl staring at the ground, and another black-haired girl looking perfectly impressed with herself. The two girls could have been twins, except their hair was different lengths.
I let out a breath.
“Yowch!”
“Ow!”
“Myaa!”
Three kids. Three different shouts when I flicked them in the forehead. My little brother and sisters.
They’d probably been running all over Moscow all day—or for even longer than that.
I was about to say something, but I couldn’t find it in me to complain. I just gave a deep, deep sigh.
“Let’s get some grub and then let’s go home,” I said. I looked each of them in the eye as I spoke. They didn’t seem to understand why I’d said that. Maybe they’d assumed I was going to give them a piece of my mind. I wanted to tell them that if that was what they expected, they shouldn’t have done what they did in the first place.
But instead, I said: “I’ll treat you. Whatever you like.”
Nora, not to my surprise, didn’t miss a beat. “Then I want a hamburger!” She flung herself at me like a friendly cat and clung to my arm. “One of the American ones from Pushkin Square!”
“Ugh! Those cost a mint—and you have to wait forever, don’t you?!” Valery burst out. “Try to show a little restraint!”
“Boo on you!” Nora said menacingly.
But I said, “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll even get you a cola. Not one of the Zhukov ones, either—a real one with color in it.” I was happy enough to roll with Nora’s demand. Then I gave Valery a grin and added, “You’re driving, so no drinks for you.”
“Heh! If that’s what Big Bro says, I guess I’ve got to listen.” Valery laughed and scratched his nose with his thumb. He was still wearing those dark sunglasses, trying to look cool. “C’mon, Nora,” he said, “hop aboard—in the back!”
“Oh, come on! I don’t think I like you telling a girl to ride with the cargo—and it’s not the first time you’ve done it!”
“Well, I can hardly make my older brother and sister sit back there, can I?”
“Yeah, I know, but you could at least find a nicer way to say it!”
They continued to enjoy a pleasant argument as they got in the truck.
I turned to my other little sister, who was still looking at the ground, and said as casually as I could, “Hamburger sound good to you, Mariya?”
“Danya…”
It turned out to be my left hand that she was staring at so intently. My glove was scorched, and she could see the bandage and the coagulant gel (both courtesy of Vrach) that I had applied to my hand.
Mariya fidgeted. “Look, I…”
“So it’s settled.”
“Eep!”
I mussed Mariya’s long dark hair with my left hand. It was no longer the oily, filthy hair she’d had as a kid. It was clean and neatly combed—good hair.
“Oh, that’s right. I bought you a record.” I patted her hair neat again as a final gesture, then pulled my hand away.
My sister looked up at me, the corners of her eyes just a bit red.
“I’m gonna dig up a phonograph somewhere next time I’m out, as long as you’ll fix it up for me,” I said.
“…!”
Mariya’s breath caught and she rubbed her eyes, then nodded eagerly. “All right! You can count on me, Danya.”
I told her I would do just that, then headed for the truck’s passenger seat. Mariya and I would have to share it. It would be a little cramped, but we would just have to live with it. Or maybe I should let Mariya in first and have her sit in the middle.
From the back, Nora was fuming for us to get going already, and Valery had already started the engine.
My job was done. We would have hamburgers. We would go home. That was enough.
Maybe we could stop and buy some ponchiki <donuts> on the way. Oh, uh, no…
“Danya?” Mariya grasped my sleeve and looked at me. I shook my head.
“It’s nothing,” I said. I could only smile at the sudden urge I had to toss a piece of candy into my mouth.