Red Widow by Alma Katsu (interesting books to read .txt) 📕

over her shoulder as she leads the way. “I heard about the takedown last night. It sounds like you had an exciting evening.”

You don’t know the half of it.

The young woman works a keypad at the front door of the SCIF, leading Lyndsey inside. Herbert is talking to a couple men. She introduces them to Lyndsey: Steven Riley from the U.S. Attorneys office, and Jonah Rhee, from State Department. “Steve will participate in the questioning. Joe here delivered the bad news to the Russians this morning.”

Rhee smiles sheepishly. “We’re trying to slow roll them for you, but they’re pretty anxious to get their men out of jail. They’re claiming diplomatic immunity, of course. We told them we IDed one of their men as FSB. That’s where we’re at, at the moment.”

They step into the interview room, the same one where Tom Cassidy was questioned less than two days ago. Was it only a day ago? The past twenty-four hours feel like an eternity.

She’d seen the man at the table just a few hours earlier, but now he looks completely different. He was like an enraged bull in Theresa’s house, defensive, dangerous, looking for a way to free himself. Here, he sits—not calm exactly, but not on edge. He sizes up his three visitors, but his gaze lingers on Lyndsey. She’s seen a lot of Russian intelligence and military from her time in Moscow. Men like Dmitri Tarasenko tailed her wherever she went in the city. They would give her the same little smirk to try to intimidate her. It enrages her, and then she remembers the reports she read on Tarasenko’s military service and a shiver runs up her spine. He is not a man to engage lightly.

Sally drops a folder on the table. “Dmitri Tarasenko. Major Tarasenko, of the FSB. We’ve been in touch with your embassy and informed them of the charges against you. They denied them, of course, and demanded your release.”

Riley takes over. “I’m with the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of Virginia. We handle all criminal prosecutions for violations of federal law. We’re preparing the court papers. We’ll be charging you with espionage against the United States of America, and you should be aware that you could face a number of years in a U.S. prison—”

“An idle threat, no?” Tarasenko lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. He doesn’t come across as nervous or afraid. To the contrary: he’s not threatened in the least. “We both know you will not prosecute me. You don’t want to give away secrets in court. You will trade me for your spies in Russia, the people we caught working for you.”

Richard. This could be how they get Richard back. The FSB won’t be able to deny they’re holding him any longer, not when they were trying to entice his wife to work for them. This could be the opening they were hoping for. Lyndsey will have to talk to Patrick Pfeifer to see if the seniors will agree to offer a swap.

Tarasenko sinks back in his chair. He looks down at the Formica tabletop, at two worn patches where countless people have rested their elbows, exhausted by the weight of their duplicity. “There is one other possibility. One you haven’t considered, perhaps, but is much more beneficial to you.” He locks onto Lyndsey with those cold-as-creek-water eyes. “You are with CIA, yes? Do not bother to deny it: I know your name from your time in Moscow. I would like to make a deal with you. I want to become a double agent for the CIA.”

—

It is pandemonium. They have to clear the room, unsure who needs to take part in this discussion. This is above Lyndsey’s pay grade. Ideally, someone much more senior would handle this negotiation, but Lyndsey is here. It seems as though Tarasenko is counting on this.

Standing in the hall with Riley and Rhee, Herbert is relieved. “You know he’s right,” she says to Lyndsey. “He’ll never be prosecuted. His people are going to fight like hell to get him released. The best we could hope for is a prisoner swap.”

She needs to bring this back to Langley. Logically, the decision would be made by the Director of Russia Division, but Eric has been removed from his position. Kim Claiborne has been Eric’s deputy since Jack Clemens went into the hospital. But Claiborne has been on a long-term assignment out of the office. Lyndsey hasn’t met her since her return from Beirut and is pretty sure Claiborne hasn’t been kept in the loop on any of this. Eric is known for eschewing deputies. He has them because he has to, it’s part of the management structure, but they quickly find out Eric considers them about as useful as a knitted condom.

She’ll call Pfeifer’s office. He has more important things to do, but she’s pretty sure he’ll want to hear this. And hopefully, Claiborne is already on recall and winging her way back to Virginia.

“I need a secure line. I have to make a phone call—but then I’m going back in there.”

—

Now it’s just the two of them in the interview room. Tarasenko leans far back in the chair, defying gravity. The Russian is cockier now. He’s happy he’s gotten the attention he needs. He likes to be in the driver’s seat, this one. Lyndsey assesses him as quickly as she can from across the table.

They’ve given him a cup of coffee and cigarettes, letting him smoke in a federal building. The cigarette burns lazily between his fingers. He’s watching her, too, deliberately letting his gaze wander away from her face over her body. He’s just trying to intimidate her. She learned a lot about old KGB tactics from Popov. This man would’ve been happy under either the Soviet regime or the oligarchs. A bully and an opportunist, he’s tailor-made to be a foot soldier in Putin’s Russia.

“You’ve had quite a change of heart,” Lyndsey says.

He taps ash into the paper cup