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

She’s getting her career back which, despite her misgivings, is a huge relief. It’s like she’s getting her old life back, but different. She’ll be back in Russia Division, true, but if things go well with Tarasenko, she could move overseas again to be closer to him. In any case, it means returning to a target she understands, having familiar ground under her feet. Not being left to fend for herself the way she was in Lebanon.

Then there’s Kim Claiborne. It may be too early to come to any conclusions, but she seems like a good leader. It’s hard to know; it might just be wishful thinking, self-deception as an act of self-preservation. But each interaction with her has felt right and at this stage, at least, Lyndsey is willing to give it a chance.

There’s a sharp knock at the door. Theresa stands in a red trench coat, cinched tightly at the waist, a bottle in her hand. Prosecco. Lyndsey accepts it with a smile: they’ve even come to think alike.

Lyndsey leads the way to the living room. “How is Brian?”

Theresa kicks off her shoes and sinks into the sofa. “Hopefully, a few days at the lake will bring him around. He’s shaken up, of course. I can only hope he won’t be scarred for life.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s strong. At least he’s not going to live in a different country.”

Theresa hides her face in her hands and groans. “I can hardly believe I was going to go through with it! The things we do when we’re desperate . . . I hope to never be that desperate again in my life.”

Lyndsey hands her a glass of prosecco. “What’s next? Have they given you any idea . . . ?”

“They have to file charges, but the U.S. Attorneys office is going to recommend that the charges be dropped. My clearance has been pulled, of course,” she says with a sigh, leaning back into the cushions. “At the moment, I’m on administrative leave while they decide what they’re going to do, but if they just fire me and there are no other repercussions, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

They do not discuss Kyle Kincaid. He came out of the coma and is undergoing tests. It is too soon to tell what the consequences will be for Theresa, whether Kincaid will tell the police what happened. He’s not entirely innocent, either. The Agency’s investigators have not been able to speak with him, however.

“What will you do?” What does a disgraced spy do for work? Will Theresa be able to get another job? You’d think it would be a big black mark on your permanent record, like a dishonorable discharge from the military.

“We could move away from here. I can’t help but think this won’t seem as bad if I can just get away from D.C.” Lyndsey also feels this way, that all this cloak and dagger stuff becomes less and less important the more miles you put between yourself and Washington. “My house is worth a lot, thanks to the location. We could live quite nicely off that in another part of the country. Then there’s Richard’s car. Did you know a man chastised me once for driving it to work? He said it was downright reckless of me. I could sell it. That’s Brian’s college fund, right there.”

It seems a good opportunity to break the news to Theresa. Lyndsey has to be careful: she doesn’t want to get Theresa’s hopes up prematurely. The seventh floor has blessed the prisoner exchange but it’s far from a done deal. It could still be derailed.

Lyndsey pours more prosecco into Theresa’s glass, smiling. “Oh, I don’t know about that—Richard might just want it back.”

It takes a minute for Theresa to put it together, but once she does, her eyes cloud with tears. “Are you saying there’s a chance?”

“Chesterfield gave the okay. I think they’ve got it all lined up on the U.S. side. Now it’s up to the Russians. I can’t imagine they won’t agree. They must want to put this debacle behind them.”

For a long moment, Theresa cannot move. She seems to be paralyzed with hope and fear. Then she shakes her head, brushing aside tears. They clink glasses.

She tells Theresa, too, that she will become Tarasenko’s handler. “You know him best. What advice do you have for me?”

Theresa puts down her glass. “I wouldn’t say I know him well at all. We only met a few times. Still . . . I wouldn’t trust him, Lyndsey. Be careful.”

“It’s meant to be a limited relationship. He’s going to help us get Morozov—that’s it.”

A scowl ruins Theresa’s lovely face. “Morozov. Look at everything CIA has done to try to get him. They paid informants, they’ve gone through all the ‘official’ channels . . . All the people who’ve died, and it’s all been for nothing. And if they do get him, what then? Will it be worth it?” Theresa is bitter and Lyndsey doesn’t blame her: Eric was willing to sacrifice her and turn her whole world upside down in order to bring him in. Is it worth going to such extremes for revenge?

Then, too, there’s the question of whether an asset like Tarasenko couldn’t be put to better use. A well-placed spy like Dmitri Tarasenko could be used to save, potentially, hundreds of lives. The thought nags at Lyndsey, though she knows the deal has been made. This is what Tarasenko offered, and CIA accepted.

There’s an unexpected knock at the door, definitely an uncommon experience at this hour of the evening. Lyndsey’s first instinct is to assume someone has mistakenly come to the wrong door and to ignore it, but no: it could be a neighbor with a problem or a mishap in the parking lot, someone swiping her car. She gets to her feet and answers it.

Eric Newman. He’s the last person she ever expected to see at her door, so his presence seems like a mirage. He’s all wrong, his expression, his stance, even what he wears, Burberry raincoat over jeans and anorak, running shoes on his