“My family was from Moscow.”
“And if she starts talking about all the cool places there?”
“I can handle it, I promise.” Her father had made certain she knew the city as well as he did. Because he actually loved everything about it. The history, the culture, and the innocent people who weren’t involved in the whole game-of-spies thing. And he’d passed that on to her.
In the command vehicle, Ava met the other agents, and they went through the plan several more times before she was outfitted with a wire. “Now,” one of the agents said, “I’ll be able to hear you and you’ll be able to hear me. And you and Frank will be able to hear each other. If you hear my voice, I might be communicating with Frank or someone else on the team. If that happens, just be sure not to give away the fact that someone’s talking in your ear.”
“Got it.”
In spite of her brave words, her heart pounded in her throat. It had been so long since she’d had a good night’s sleep, and she was pulling on all the reserves to battle the exhaustion yanking at her. What if she messed up and said the wrong thing? What if the aunt refused to speak to her? What if Nicolai was in the house and they just didn’t know it? She touched the wig and the glasses and prayed it was good enough to hide her true identity.
Before she knew it, she found herself decked out in a GOOD-N-FAST uniform and headed up the drive with Frank beside her in the driver’s seat.
She pressed her palms to her thighs and drew in a deep breath.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m ready to find this killer and see him in prison.” Although, to be honest, she’d love a few moments alone with him—as long as he was tied up and harmless—so she could question him. There was the very real possibility he would know where her father was. Or at the least, if he was still alive.
She prepared herself for the fact that even if she got the chance to ask him, he might not tell her. Assuming he knew. And she was okay with assuming that.
At the top of the horseshoe-shaped drive, Frank parked, and she climbed out of the passenger seat. She shut the door and waited for him to walk around to join her. “Nice place,” she said.
“Very.”
The house was a two-story Victorian that looked like it had been renovated recently. In the distance, to her left, she could see a red barn and land that stretched to the edge of a wooden fence. Beyond that, to the right was Lake Savannah. The lake was huge, covering over two hundred miles of shoreland, numerous private islands, and several marinas.
“Do you see any booby traps?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Frank rang the bell and stepped back, clipboard in hand, pleasant expression on his face.
“Stay focused, you two. Here we go.” The voice sounded way too close and Ava nearly jumped out of her skin. Then remembered the nearly invisible earpiece in her canal.
Ava pasted a smile on her lips and waited. Seconds later, she heard the footsteps on the hardwood. The curtain to her right moved and she gave the woman a small wave.
The door opened. A woman in her sixties—older than Ava had expected—dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt, towered over Ava and would have met Frank eye to eye had she not been leaning on a cane. She also had a phone pressed to her ear. “Da,” she said, “da. I know. It’s fine. Of course. I will take care of everything. Please do not worry.” She spoke in clipped Russian and Ava listened intently. “See you later.” She hung up and raised a brow. “Da?” she asked. “I . . . speak no . . . English. Please. You go.” The words were clear in spite of her heavy accent and Ava could tell she’d practiced them diligently.
Getting into her role, Ava smiled. “You’re Russian?” she said perfectly in the foreign tongue.
“Da.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “You speak it?”
“I do,” Ava gushed. “It’s so exciting to meet someone who does too. My name is Melissa. I studied it in high school and took a trip to Moscow when I was in college.”
“Oh, Moscow. How I miss my great city.” She placed a hand on her chest and closed her eyes as though remembering days gone by. Then she blinked and shook her head. “I am Vanya Tunicova. Very nice to meet you, Melissa. So, you are selling me something?”
“Not me, I’m in training, but this is Steve and he’d love to tell you about our product.” Ava looked at Frank, repeating everything in English.
“It’s a home food delivery service,” he said. “I would very much appreciate the opportunity to tell you more about it if you’re willing to listen.” He held up his briefcase, indicating he had material he’d like to show her.
The woman hesitated.
“Get Frank inside if you can, Ava,” the voice said in her ear. “She seems to like you.”
Ava wasn’t so sure about that. She translated Frank’s words, then said, “You have a very lovely home.”
“Bah.” She waved a hand. “It’s a rental until my nephew decides where he would like to settle down. We’ve moved and moved and moved. I’m very tired of it. I’m ready to go home to Moscow. He has promised it will be soon.”
“I’m sorry.”
Still she hesitated. “How do I know you’re not here to rob an old lady?”
“Ah, I assure you, Ms. Tunicova, we’re not here to rob you,” Ava said, “but I certainly understand your hesitation. You have a lovely porch. We could sit out here instead?”
She translated everything for Frank—and the people listening in.
A harsh groan from someone in the van echoed in her ear, but it wouldn’t do any good to insist they enter the home if the woman didn’t want them there. At least if they were sitting on the porch, they could keep her occupied and talking. Or it could make them targets for a sniper named Nicolai. Ava wanted to slap her head and keep her mouth shut.
The woman stepped closer, her cane thumping on the wood floor. Her gaze held Ava’s before she gave a low grunt. “You have nice eyes. You can come in to do your presentation.”
“Well . . . thank you.”
“Good job,” the voice said. “You’re a natural.”
Ava did her best to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want to be a natural. She wanted to find out where Nicolai was.
“Come in, come in.” She waved them in, and Ava stepped into a foyer with an oversized chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Ms. Tunicova led them into the formal sitting area to the left. She patted Ava’s arm. “You sit there on the sofa.” She motioned to the one under the window. Ava took some comfort in the fact that the blinds were closed. With her cane, Ms. Tunicova pointed and said to Frank, “You take that chair by the fireplace.” Ava translated and Frank raised a brow but lowered himself into the assigned seat.
Using her cane as leverage, Ms. Tunicova settled herself beside Ava with a grunt and pulled an album from the coffee table in front of them. She handed the book to Ava. “Pleasure first, then business, da? Your food presentation can wait just a few minutes, okay?” She patted the album. “Open it, if you will?”
Ava shot a glance at Frank, and although he was frowning, he nodded. Ava flipped the cover open and recognized Red Square in Moscow. “It’s beautiful.”