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

In the confusion after the snatch, we help Tarasenko slip out of the country. We give him his money and his new identity and then you’re done.”

Claiborne makes it sound so easy. Then why does she look so worried? What is she hiding?

There’s one other thing bothering Lyndsey. She runs a hand along an empty shelf. “I can’t work in Russia Division if Eric comes back.”

“I don’t want to misspeak, Lyndsey. Eric’s situation isn’t settled, not definitively, but . . . I think it’s safe to say he’s not coming back. He’s going to be fired. It’s not just what he did here—though you’d think that would be enough—but there have been other cases. Just not as egregious. I think they’ve finally come to see that Eric shouldn’t have been put in a position of such high trust.” She hesitates. “I wish I could say that he’ll be punished for what he’s done, but that’s up to the Justice Department. It’s out of our hands.”

If Eric returns, there’s no way she can continue at CIA. He’ll hound her for the rest of her career, no matter where she goes or what she does. Still, she doesn’t want to be responsible for ending a man’s career. He’s certainly done good along with the questionable. Undoubtedly, there are people walking the halls at Langley who would swear Eric Newman was the best manager they ever had. Those people will come to resent Lyndsey, too. Her enemies list grows by the hour.

Staying means reporting to this woman, but Lyndsey thinks it might work. She can tell already that Kim Claiborne is not Eric Newman. That much is clear from the careful way she speaks. Though Lyndsey feels guilty here, too: does Claiborne know about Beirut? Maybe she won’t want Lyndsey to stay on the case after she finds out.

Lyndsey walks slowly across the small room, gaze directed at the tips of her shoes. “There’s something else you need to know. I was recalled from my last assignment. There’s an investigation—”

Claiborne waves her hand. “Davis Ranford, MI6?”

“Don’t tell me you know him, too.”

“Oh, I know him. So, I know there’s nothing for Security to worry about. Besides, after what you’ve done here—it’s water under the bridge. If you tell me it’s over, I believe you.”

Lyndsey hesitates. Does it have to be over? Is there a chance they will allow her to see him? It seems an impossible thing to ask . . . and she doesn’t know how Davis feels. Maybe he’s relieved it’s over. Those were the unspoken rules when they started.

But Claiborne is already moving on. “You’ll be happy to know that we’ve convinced State Department to offer to swap Tarasenko for Richard Warner.”

It takes a moment for the words to process. All the heartache and treachery of the past two years might have been avoided if this had been done in the first place—or maybe that’s not true, maybe nothing could’ve been done then to persuade the Russians to listen.

“The seventh floor changed its mind?”

“This is a different director. Chesterfield wants to do the right thing. What’s more, they have someone to trade who’s important to the Russians. And it will get our new asset back to Moscow at the same time. What’s not to like?” Claiborne’s shrug is playful. “So, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. We’ll see if it works.”

“What about Theresa? Has anyone told her?”

Claiborne shakes her head. “Not yet. They thought it was better not to get her hopes up until it’s official.”

There it is again, the paternal attitude that rubs the wrong way. As though Theresa Warner doesn’t know how capricious these things can be. Like Richard’s return should be a gift. You don’t want to spoil the surprise. “Wouldn’t it be better if she knew the Agency was trying to free her husband, rather than to keep her in the dark?”

Claiborne suppresses a grimace. “I see what you mean . . . Let’s put it this way: if someone were to tell her informally I don’t think that would be a problem. Understood?”

She will drive out there to deliver the news in person. “Thank you.”

“So . . . Should I take this to mean you’ll stay? You know, if you’re going to be Tarasenko’s handler, you might need to be stationed overseas. Maybe we can arrange for you to live in London. Would you like that?” Is that a wink Claiborne gives her? Her informal permission to see Davis.

Lyndsey looks back through the one-way glass. There sits the Butcher of Tskhinvali, laughing amicably with the tech ops officer, pretending that we’re all friends, that he is just another guy. Doesn’t think twice about all the blood on his hands.

He won’t be anything like Yaromir Popov. Not at all. He will be a test of all her abilities as a case officer.

But after everything she’s gone through with this case, she feels a powerful urge to see it through to the end.

She nods.

FORTY-THREE

Lyndsey opens a bottle of prosecco. Maybe she should’ve sprung for champagne, but she feels superstitious and is afraid it might jinx things.

The plan had been to go over to Theresa’s house tonight, but Theresa called that afternoon and asked if they could meet at Lyndsey’s apartment instead. She was on her way back from her aunt’s vacation cottage at Lake Anna, where she’d just dropped off Brian. He would get away from the house and the neighbors’ stares for a few days, and Theresa would be free for the inevitable meetings with Justice Department and CIA Security. “Is it okay if I come over? I’d rather not face an empty house right now.”

Lyndsey putters around the apartment but, unsurprisingly, there is little tidying up to do. The apartment still shows few signs of occupancy. Sorting through the clothes she’s tossed onto the bedroom floor, she resolves to get her life together. She’ll find a new place to live, a real place. She’ll buy furniture and a car.

Because pretty soon, she’ll have a whole new life, too.