Chapter Four
Tess
OFFICER WALLACE PLAYED it cool, but I could detect a trace of surprise on his face.
“Finch?” he whispered, calling me by my cover name. “What the hell?”
“We’re getting off at the next station,” I whispered. “As soon as the train stops, get up, grab your bag, and stay close to me. Do you understand?”
“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot,” he snapped back.
“I guess we’ll find that out, won’t we?” I asked, staying in character.
“Oh, we’re gonna straighten a few things out when we get to St. Petersburg,” he replied.
“I thought you said you understood me?” I hiss-pered. “We’re not going to St. Petersburg. We’re getting off at the next stop. Okulovka station.”
Officer Wallace leaned in close. “Those aren’t the instruction in my brief, and since this is my op, we’re going to play this by the book unless I hear otherwise from a superior.”
I smiled and patted him on the knee. “Oh, I am most certainly your superior. Now, get off the train at Okulovka station or I’ll shoot you dead and tell the local police that you tried to rape me.”
“I don’t know what your handler told you about me or what your mission brief says, but I—”
“You’re going to keep your mouth shut for the next two minutes until we reach Okulovka station.
Then, you’re going to exit the train and follow me, all while remaining silent until we reach our destination.
Any attempted variation of this plan will get you shot dead, and your body dumped into a mass grave. ”
“You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?” he muttered.
“Only to snakes,” I retorted.
We exited the train without issue at Okulovka, and I led us to my car which was parked in the station’s lot. True to his word, Wallace was in fact capable of following orders while keeping his mouth shut. At least until we got into the car.
“What the fuck was that all about?” he snapped.
“What are you talking about,” I replied, cooly.
“That bullshit back on the train. You know, the whole, ‘Alina the boxcar call girl’ routine.”
I shrugged. “I needed to find out what kind of officer you are. If you could lie well, and if you had any tells.”
“And?”
“You passed. You stayed focused, gave away no real information about yourself, and most importantly, you didn’t try to have sex with me.”
He glared at me. “I’m so happy to have passed your little test.”
“Look, Wallace, the people we’re dealing with here are master liars. Among the very best in the world, which means they can detect when people are lying to them.”
“You understand I’ve been trained by the same people you have, right? I’ve also read and memorized the mission brief.”
“You’ve never been to Russia. I’ve been here for over five months. No amount of training or reading in the world could make up for what I’ve learned since I’ve been here.”
“And I’m thankful to have such a knowledgeable officer to assist me on this op, but what I need you to understand is—”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I asked. “Did I hear you right? Your op?”
“That’s right,” he replied. “As in my operation. As in, I was sent here by the agency to complete a mission.”
“Did you miss the part where I said I’ve been here for five months? This is my mission. You’re here because I lost my leading man and need someone who can fit into the wardrobe.”
“Tell yourself whatever want, but I’m working off limited intel and need you to help me fill in some gaps.”
“You’re about to meet Sasha Fedya.” I glanced at him. “Do you know who that is?”
“Of course I do. He’s the largest black-market import/export man in Russia, maybe the world. And he’s backed by the Petrakov family.”
“That’s right, and he lives in one of the most secure residences in the country. Did you know that?”
“No, but like I said—”
“Do you have any idea how to contact Sasha Fedya, let alone gain his confidence enough to get near him?”
“I was told you would provide me with that information, along with a weapon, once I’d arrived in St. Petersburg. But I’m not in St. Petersburg because, for some unknown reason, I’m in a parking lot in Okulovka with an officer who mistakenly thinks she’s my handler.”
“Who is your handler?” I asked.
“I’m not telling you that,” he snapped back. “I’m not telling you a goddamned thing.”
“My real name is Teresa St. Marks, I go by Tess, and I answer directly to Chuck Forrester, the Deputy Director,” I said. “And you’re gonna want to curb the blasphemy while you’re here. The gangsters here are vicious, stone-cold killers, but they’re also very religious.”
“Thanks for the intel and the tip. I’m still not telling you who my handler is.”
“Well, whoever they are, I think they might have given you the wrong impression about exactly what’s going on here.”
“Please, pray tell, enlighten me,” he droned sarcastically.
I took a deep, steely breath. “The tasks of infiltrating Zivon Petrakov’s organization and building a dossier of his clientele have been given to me by the Deputy Director himself.
I’ve been in Russia for five months, two weeks, and three days, and haven’t needed outside support once.
I’ve been on the inside of Sasha Fedya’s inner circle for over three of those months, and he suspects nothing.
The only reason you’re here is because I’ve found myself in need of a fiancé and you fit the bill better than any other available officer.
Now, put your seat belt on. I’ll fill you in on our way to my place. ”
“We’re driving the rest of the way to St. Petersburg?”
I shook my head before peeling out of the parking lot. “I’ve got an apartment here in Okulovka and one in St. Petersburg. Sasha knows about the one in town, but not the one here.”
“You’re close enough to Fedya for him to know where you live?” Wallace asked.
“He trusts me,” I replied.
“Why?”
“One of the reasons you were selected for this mission was because you have a degree in art history. Please tell me you didn’t cheat your way through the class and at least know the difference between Monet and Manet.”
“édouard Manet was a realist painter and Claude Monet was an impressionist. Manet focused on people, while Monet preferred landscapes. The two were contemporaries, friends, rivals, and influences on each other’s work. Shall I go on?”
“Sasha’s an art fanatic,” I continued. “Especially fond of the post-impressionist painters. I’ve managed to acquire some extremely rare pieces for him.”
“And how did you manage to do that?”
“Most I acquired with the help of the United States government under a tense agreement that any and all pieces shall be returned to their rightful owners once the operation is complete.”
“You said most. What about the others?” I asked.
“Forgeries.”
“Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Really good ones. We employed forgery artists who use period correct canvases and handmade paints that would fool ninety-nine out of one hundred experts. Some of them cost damn nearly the same as the original.”
“What about computer analysis?” he asked.
“The pieces will stand up to everything shy of radiocarbon dating, but they don’t have to.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I sell the hell out of every acquisition,” I replied. “One time I even orchestrated fake news reports regarding a stolen Matisse which ended up in Sasha’s collection that very week. He thinks I’m a miracle worker.”
“You’d better hope he never has those paintings closely examined.”
I shrugged. “He’ll have to have them examined from whatever dark hole the company sticks him in. I’ve got more than enough evidence to put Sasha and his crew away for life not only in the US, but in Russia and Ukraine.”
“What about Zivon Petrakov?” Officer Wallace asked. “I was told he was hiding out in Moscow.”
“Then you were misinformed. Zivon is Sasha’s best friend. He’s been hiding out at Sasha’s house for weeks. Anything else you need cleared up?”
“You know, I didn’t ask for this job.”
“Men never have to,” I countered.
“Hold on. Just so I’ve got this straight.” He pressed a palm to his eye socket. “Are you pissed off at me because I’m here or because I have a penis?”
“No, I’m pissed because both the Company and Sasha want you here for the same reason.”
“Which is?”
“Because a woman can’t possibly accomplish anything without the assistance of a man.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.
“I told you the gangsters over here are very religious. The Russian mob is a Jewish outfit even if all members aren’t Jewish per-se, and the Petrakov family have roots in the Catholic church dating back to when Jesus was in junior high school.
They are also very traditional. For instance, when Sasha and I were introduced through a contact I’d made in St. Petersburg, he refused to even consider doing business with a woman.
I had to convince him that I work with a male partner back in the states, thus the Noah Beck identity was created.
We set up a dummy company, and a state-side officer played his part whenever I needed his ‘input.’”
“If the role has already been cast, what am I doing here?” Wallace asked.
“Because two weeks ago, Sasha invited me over for a cocktail party in order to introduce me to some of his wealthy friends. He wanted to show his appreciation for how hard I’d been working for him by connecting me with possible clientele.
Of course, I accepted the invitation, but when I arrived at the party I knew right away what was really going on.
Sasha’s guests were all single, rich, old men and I was to be placed on the auction block. ”
“Holy Christ,” Wallace hissed. “I mean, holy shit. I mean, regular shit.”
I laughed, surprised by the involuntary reaction.
As pissed off as I was about his presence, it wasn’t Officer Wallace’s fault he’d been sent here.
In fact, he seemed like an okay guy, and he certainly wasn’t hard to look at or smell.
In fact, I was not dreading the chore of playing fake fiancé with him, I just hoped this rookie didn’t get us both killed.
“So how did you avoid becoming the Russian Bachelorette?”
“I had to lie, and tell Sasha that Noah was not only my business partner but that we were engaged to be married.”
“What did he do?”
“Called off the party, immediately. He apologized to his guests, then to me, promising he’d find a way to make up for such a huge mistake. He also insisted on apologizing to both of us, face-to-face at his home in St. Petersburg.”
“Quick thinking on your part. It obviously worked,” Wallace said. “So, why didn’t Noah Beck version 1.0 come to Moscow?”
“Because the officer playing him back at home was paralyzed from the waist down three months ago after an accident on his kid’s backyard trampoline,” I said, pulling into my parking space and killing the engine.
“Andrew Larkin?” he asked.
“You know Officer Larkin?”
Wallace nodded. “Andy and I were at the Farm together. I met him on orientation day, and we not only ran the course together, but got drunk at the same bar on graduation day. Damn shame what happened to him. It’s gotta be tough on Whitney and their daughter, too.”
“Well, Andrew Larkin’s accident left the slot open for live action Noah to be played by you.”
“And according to your tone, body language, and overall demeanor, you don’t need me here, you don’t want me here, and you never even wished I was here. Is that about right?”
It stung how accurate his words were, and for the first time, I felt a little bad for how I’d treated him.
I sighed. “Look, you seem okay. I don’t know why you were sent here with so little intel, and I’m sorry about that, but this is my show. You’re here to play a role and back me up. Can you get behind that or are we going to have a problem?”
“I’m not here to step on your toes,” Wallace said. “You clearly have your shit together here and I’m in no position to argue, but I was sent here to do a job. And even if it’s a job I don’t want, and don’t have all the information I need yet, I’m going to do that job to the best of my ability.”
“Then I suggest we figure out how to work together,” I said.
“As long as we’re clear that just because you don’t report to me, that doesn’t mean that I report to you. We’re equals.”
“Well…”
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked.
“I’ve seen your file. Parts of it, at least,” I replied. “You’re a Longbow hire who’s worked exclusively on the west border regions of the U.S. You’ve been twice decorated for bravery in the field and yet are stalled at GS-11.”
“Let me guess, you’re a GS-12,” he breathed out in irritation.
“I’m a GS-15,” I said. “And though that doesn’t technically make me your superior, it does mean that I have more field time, experience, and knowledge than you do, so unless you’d like us both to end up in an unmarked grave missing our hands and feet, I suggest you let me lead the dance for now.
What do you think? Can we start again with that understanding? ”
Wallace paused for a moment before extending his hand. “Noah Beck. And you are?”
I shook his hand. “Eleanor Finch. My friends call me El.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, El. Would you like to get married?”
I reached into my pocket, producing a gold engagement ring and handing it to him. “I thought you’d never ask,” I said, and he then slipped the ring onto my finger.