Chapter 19 Pyotr
Pyotr
The man in the gray coat has been reading the same newspaper for two hours.
I spot him again from the kitchen window while I’m washing breakfast dishes. He’s parked on a bench across the street, positioned to watch our building’s entrance. Every few minutes, he glances up from the paper, inspects the windows, and returns to pretending he’s interested in the headlines.
Amateur.
“Kira, finish your eggs,” Daria calls from the table. “We need to leave for the park soon.”
“But Mama, I’m full.”
“Three more bites. Then you can bring your dinosaurs.”
I dry my hands on a dish towel and cross to the table, keeping my body angled away from the window. “We have company,” I whisper near Daria’s ear as I reach past her for my coffee cup. I shift closer, putting my body between her and the window like it’s nothing. Habit.
She doesn’t flinch or look toward the window. She just keeps cutting Kira’s toast into triangles and gives me the subtlest of nods. “How many?”
“One visible. Probably more I haven’t clocked.”
“What do we do?”
“What we planned. Boring day. Boring people. Nothing worth reporting.”
She nods almost imperceptibly and turns back to Kira with a bright smile. “Okay, baby. Get your shoes. The red ones with the butterflies.”
Kira scrambles from her chair and races toward her bedroom. The moment she’s out of earshot, Daria’s smile drops.
“He knows something,” she whispers.
I take a sip of coffee that’s gone cold. “If he knew, he wouldn’t waste resources on surveillance. He’d just act.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Just stay focused, golubka.” I set the cup in the sink as I add, “Today, we’re a happy little family taking a walk in the park. That’s all. You hold my hand, you laugh at my terrible jokes, and you don’t look at the man on the bench.”
“I didn’t know you made jokes.”
“I don’t. That’s what makes them terrible.”
A ghost of a smile crosses her face, and something loosens in my chest. She’s scared, but she’s holding it together. That’s all I can ask.
Kira returns with her shoes on the wrong feet and three dinosaurs stuffed into her coat pockets.
Daria kneels to fix the shoes while I grab my jacket and check the weight of the gun holstered at my back.
It’s become second nature, this constant awareness of where my weapon is and how fast I can reach it.
We leave the apartment at 9:47 a.m. I’ve timed our departures to vary by a few minutes each day. They’re predictable enough to seem routine, but irregular enough to suggest we’re not following a script.
The man in the gray coat doesn’t look up as we pass.
Good. Let him think we haven’t noticed.
The park is six blocks away, a small square of grass and trees wedged between Soviet-era apartment buildings.
Kira runs ahead the moment we’re through the gate and makes a beeline for the rusty swing set.
I guide Daria to a bench with clear sightlines in three directions and settle beside her with my arm draped across her shoulders.
“This feels ridiculous,” she complains under her breath.
“Happy couples don’t act like they’re being watched. They act like idiots.”
“You’re very good at this.”
“Years of practice.” I scan the park’s perimeter without moving my head. Two mothers are chatting near the sandbox. An old man is walking a dog that looks older than he is. No gray coats or obvious surveillance. “Bogdan’s man stayed at the bench. He’s not following us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Either they’re only watching the building, or there’s a second team I haven’t spotted.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Laugh like I said something funny.”
She does, and to her credit, it almost sounds genuine.
“Better. Now lean into me and say something about how handsome I am.”
“You’re insufferable.” But she leans into me anyway, wedging her body against my side. Her hand lands on my thigh, and her fingers curl into the muscle there.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accuses under her breath. “Using surveillance as an excuse to get your hands on me.”
“And if I am?”
“Then you should know two can play that game.” She walks her fingers higher and stops just short of dangerous territory.
I catch her wrist and hold it there. “Careful, golubka. You start something here, and I’ll finish it later. And I won’t be quick about it.”
“Promises, promises.”
Kira is three swings away, pumping her legs and singing something about butterflies. Close enough to see. Too far to hear.
I lean down until my lips graze the shell of her ear. “When we get home, I’m going to bend you over that kitchen counter and make you come so hard that the neighbors file a noise complaint. And that’s just to start.”
She sucks in a breath and squeezes her thighs together.
“Then I’m going to take you to bed and do it all over again. Slower. Until you’re begging me to let you rest. So keep teasing me, Daria. See what happens.”
Her pupils dilate, and her lips are parted. I haven’t even touched her.
“Mama! Watch me!” Kira’s voice cuts through from the slide.
Daria blinks, and the spell breaks. She clears her throat and waves at her daughter. “I see you, baby! Go again!” Then she returns her attention to me and grumbles, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Not if I can help it.” I give her knee a squeeze before standing. “Now, I have to go cheer for the twelfth trip down the slide. Try to compose yourself.”
We stay at the park for an hour. I push Kira on the swings while Daria pretends to scroll through her phone, reviewing the encrypted files Tony sent overnight.
When Kira demands I watch her go down the slide again, I clap and cheer like a proud stepfather while noting the three new faces that have appeared at the edge of the park.
One is a woman with a stroller that never moves. Another is a jogger who’s been stretching by the same tree for twenty minutes. The third is a teenager smoking near the gate, but his eyes keep flitting toward us instead of his phone.
By the time we leave, I’ve counted six probable watchers. Bogdan is burning resources to keep eyes on us, which means he’s nervous. Nervous is good. Nervous people make mistakes.
The afternoon passes in manufactured domesticity.
I fix a loose cabinet hinge while Daria does laundry.
We eat lunch at the small kitchen table with Kira chattering away.
At 2:15 p.m., I take the trash to the dumpster behind the building and spend four minutes mapping the sight lines from the adjacent rooftops.
At 3:30, while Kira naps and Daria reads to her in the bedroom, I slip into the bathroom and call Tony on the secure line.
“Got your surveillance report,” he tells me by way of answering. “If you’re right, Bogdan has pulled in contractors from outside his usual network. Expensive ones.”
“He’s spooked.”
“Or he’s planning something and wants eyes on you while he sets it up.
” Tony’s keyboard clicks in the background.
“I’ve been running the financial trails you flagged.
Four of Bogdan’s lieutenants have accounts that connect to the shell companies, but we’re paying special attention to a woman named Svetlana Morozova. ”
“She was at one of the dinner parties Daria mentioned.”
“Bogdan’s fixer. She handles the logistics he doesn’t want traced back to him.
” More clicking. “Her accounts show regular payments to a security firm that has done work for organizations on Yevgeny’s blacklist. That’s our link.
If we can prove she’s operating on Bogdan’s orders without Yevgeny’s knowledge, we’ve got him. ”
“How do we prove it?”
“The ledgers Daria mentioned. If they exist, if they’re at the dacha, and if we can get our hands on them, they’ll show the chain of command. Bogdan to Morozova to the blacklisted organizations. Yevgeny won’t be able to ignore that.”
“That’s a lot of ifs.”
“Welcome to intelligence work.” Tony jokes. “Dmitri called me this morning. Alexei wants to come to St. Petersburg.”
Dmitri’s brother. Second-in-command. The one they send when they’re done being patient.
My eyes unconsciously flick toward the door as I ask, “When?”
“He’s pushing for the end of the week. Dmitri’s stalling, but you know how Alexei gets when he thinks family is threatened. He’s not the patient type.”
“If Alexei shows up before we have the evidence—”
“Daria’s fate is decided by suspicion instead of proof. I know.” Tony exhales. “You’ve got five days, Pyotr. Maybe less if Alexei loses patience. Whatever you’re planning, you need to accelerate it.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and lean against the bathroom sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
The face looking back at me is tired. The lines around my eyes have multiplied over the two weeks I’ve been here, carved by too little sleep and too much worry about a woman and child who’ve become far more important than they should be.
This is just a taste of what Daria has spent years going through.
I run the faucet and splash cold water on my face, letting it drip down my jaw while I run through contingencies.
The dacha is at least a three-hour drive from the city.
We’d need to get there without being followed, find the ledgers, and get out before anyone noticed we’d been there.
All while Bogdan’s people track our every move.
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulls me from my calculations.
“It’s me,” Daria says through the wood.
I shut off the faucet and open the door. She glances down the hallway toward Kira’s room before slipping inside. I close the door behind her, and she leans against it.
“Kira’s asleep,” she breathes. “What did Tony say?”
“He’s identified three of Bogdan’s lieutenants. We’re building the connection between them and the blacklisted organizations.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It’s progress.” I hesitate, then decide she deserves the truth. “Alexei wants to come to St. Petersburg. Dmitri’s holding him off, but we might have less time than we thought.”
She pales. “But we haven’t even figured out how to get to the dacha, let alone—”
“We’ll figure it out.” I take her hands in mine. “I’ve been in worse situations with less time and fewer resources. We just need to stay focused and keep playing the happy family for Bogdan’s watchers.”
“What if we can’t find the ledgers? What if they no longer exist?”
“Then we find another way. But I don’t think Bogdan destroyed them. Men like him keep records for insurance. He wouldn’t throw away something that valuable.”
She looks down at our joined hands. “You really believe we can do this?”
I lift her chin with one finger, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I’m not going to let Alexei decide your fate based on suspicion. I’m not going to let anyone take you or Kira. We find the evidence, deliver it to Dmitri and Yevgeny, and end this. That’s the plan.”
“That’s a very optimistic plan.”
“I’m an optimistic person.”
She laughs, a short, surprised sound. “No, you’re not.”
“No,” I agree. “I’m not. But I’m stubborn, and I’m good at my job, and I’m not going to let Bogdan win.”
She eyes my face for a long moment. Then, she rises on her toes and kisses my cheek. It’s brief and soft and over before I can react, but it steals my breath just the same.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For not giving up on me.”
“Haven’t given up on anything in my life. Not about to start now.”
She slips back out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my reflection.
I hold onto the edge of the sink and stare at the man in the mirror again. He looks like someone who’s about to do something stupid. Someone who’s let a woman and her daughter crawl under his skin and take up residence in places he thought he’d sealed off years ago.
Uncle Vasily would have told me I was compromised. That emotions make you sloppy. That the mission always comes first.
But Uncle Vasily never met Daria Kozlov.
I head back to the kitchen. Daria mentioned something about making pelmeni for dinner, and I told her I’d help fold them. It’s the kind of domestic nonsense I never imagined myself doing, standing in a cramped kitchen with flour on my hands while a five-year-old critiques my dumpling technique.
Strange, how quickly it has become the thing I look forward to most.
I pull ingredients from the refrigerator and lay them on the counter. Somewhere across the city, Bogdan Lebedev is plotting his next move. Somewhere in Moscow, Alexei Kozlov is pushing to come here to pass judgment on his cousin just because he’s antsy.
Let them scheme. Let them push.
I’ve got dumplings to make and a family to protect.
Everything else can wait until after dinner.