Chapter 18 #2
She nodded, her brows scrunched tight. “My dad was practically an illusionist. Made things appear and disappear literally before my eyes all the time. His magic tricks were my favorite memories of him.” She closed her eyes for a second as if scolding herself for allowing any happy thoughts to remain in her mind.
“Both the Volkovs and the SVR would have reason to kill your parents if they discovered they stole them.”
She sat taller, her spine going straight, outwardly relieved to be sharing everything even if it was a painful subject matter. “While my parents and I were at the theater, our house was ransacked. Porter told me when the team showed up to my home, the place was already destroyed.”
And damn did he admire her strength. She was opening up to him in a way that, only yesterday, he hadn’t been sure was possible.
“Would your parents have kept the ledger and key at their house?” That didn’t seem all that smart to do with such valuable items. Not even in a safe, well, unless someone wanted them found.
“Maybe not the originals, but I think whoever tore apart our home believed they’d found them. Or at least one of them,” she answered, a mirror to his thoughts.
She tucked her lips inward for a moment, and for the briefest of guilty seconds, he wanted to suck that lip. Tease it between his teeth. If only he could make all her pain and suffering go away with a kiss. If only life were so easy.
“My parents had no qualms about stealing, so they certainly wouldn’t hesitate about making copies of the ledger and key.
The Feds said my parents used to counterfeit everything.
Obviously, I didn’t know the paintings I saw come and go from our house over the years were fakes, but thinking back, they couldn’t have been real.
Van Goghs. Picassos.” Her tight, nervous expression loosened a touch.
“What if my parents stole the ledger and key while we were in Hungary, three months before their death, just like Porter’s source had claimed?
They could have hired the forger they always worked with to create copies of both.
And before you ask, at the time, I didn’t know he was a forger, but it makes sense that they would have one given their line of work. ”
“You know, you reading my mind is kind of unnerving,” he said, going for a sip of wine because this really was like the plot of a Tom Cruise Mission Impossible movie.
“Occupational hazard,” she smirked. “Knowing my dad, he planted the forgeries in our home, but hid the real ones. Probably in two separate locations. An insurance policy perhaps? So, while the FBI were busy killing my parents, Russian agents probably stole one or both of the forged copies. And since no one came forward with another copy of either after that night, the SVR felt it safe to target the Volkovs.”
His eyes fell to the ice cream as the chocolate liquified. “And if the real ones were hidden by your parents, they became lost forever with their deaths.”
“Well, lost for fifteen years, at least. Grigory claimed to have found the ledger and key to keep the SVR at bay, but I know he doesn’t have both. And as to whether he has the original ledger or another forged copy, I have no idea.”
A.J.’s gaze whipped back to her face, first to her full lips before meeting her hunter green eyes.
“Yeah, no way does Grigory Volkov also have the key, or he wouldn’t be so willing to cooperate with you.
He needs the key to protect himself from the SVR.
” A.J. paused for a moment because something wasn’t adding up.
“How can you be sure Grigory found the ledger? It could be another rumor.”
“Because I’ve spoken to Grigory Volkov.” Her admission sounded more like a plea of “guilty” in a courtroom. What did she mean she spoke to Grigory Freaking Volkov? Was she already in that deep?
“What?” He retracted his hand from her leg on reflex, but he didn’t want to be that guy again. That guy back in the office whose shocked reaction had her fleeing the room in shame.
A lifetime of betrayal flashed in her green eyes, but he refused to hurt her.
He set his hand back on her thigh and looked into her eyes.
He offered her a tight nod he hoped conveyed, I won’t let you down.
Her lashes were wet, but there weren’t any more tears.
She was a stunningly beautiful woman who’d been put through the Russian wringer of life.
“After Porter came to me with my new assignment—to infiltrate the Volkovs—he presented a few possible Volkov sources to look into to help me gain access to the organization.”
“Katya was one of them?”
“Yeah, I tracked her every move for about a month. She was dating Dominick Volkov, and I caught him having an affair.” A soft blush crawled over her cheeks as if embarrassed she caught Dominick having sex.
“I used that as my chance to turn her to work with the Bureau. She admitted she never really wanted to be a spy for the Volkovs, but Dominick had pressured her into it.”
“Katya helped you make contact with Dominick, then?” But what about Grigory? He’d do his best to let her unravel the “complicated” story, now understanding why she’d opted for part two of their talk down by the pond.
“No, not officially. It’d be too risky for her since she was going to work with the FBI. But from my surveillance of her, I was able to track Dominick to an apartment in Newark, New Jersey. I made first contact, but he was hesitant to trust me.”
A.J. removed his hat, swiping the slight sheen of sweat from his brow before setting it back on. “You had to offer him Katya?”
“Yes, but in exchange, Katya was going to receive a cushy payout, new identity, and a chance to be free of the Volkovs. She was okay with the arrangement,” Ana explained, her tone confident.
“What exactly was the plan? How were you going to do that?” He’d swear he was smart, but every so often while they spoke, he found himself wondering if he’d be able to find his ass with both hands in his pockets. Maybe he’d blame the two bumps on his head.
Ice cream—no, milkshake break, anyone?
“Since the Russian government was the most notable enemy of the Volkovs, why not ensure the Volkovs in Hungary intercepted word that a Russian hitman had been hired to take out a Volkov asset in the U.S.?” She paused for a breath as though her thoughts moved faster than her mouth could.
“Once I gave Dominick Katya’s identity as an FBI asset, the plan was to have her moved into witness protection and make it look like she’d been killed by a Russian hitman before the Volkovs got a chance to get to her themselves. ”
“With her believed to be dead, she really could have started over. No one would be looking for her,” he said with a nod, trying to keep up with her.
“Plus, you would’ve given Dominick what he wanted, proving your loyalty.
But it wasn’t your fault that the SVR got to Katya first considering the beef between the two organizations. ” Damn brilliant.
“Only something obviously went wrong. There was never supposed to be a real kidnapping, but Ivan Smirnoff must’ve somehow got to Katya hours before the plan was set into motion to move her to WITSEC for what was supposed to be the fake hit.”
“So, where does this forger who supposedly worked for your parents come into play?” In this heat, and with his shirt beginning to cling like something fierce, she might need to spell it out for him. He was growing a bit light-headed.
“When I told Porter about my dad’s only lifelong friend, who also happened to show up with artwork every time he visited, Porter suggested he may be a forger, and he began looking for him.”
“Did Porter confirm he was a counterfeiter of sorts?”
“Yes, his name is Anthony Vincenzi, an Italian artist by day, and a forger by night. And if Anthony can verify he made copies of the originals, maybe he made more? Or knows where my parents would have hidden the real ones?”
“So, now you’re offering the Volkovs the forger, am I right?
You told Grigory copies were made?” Heat exhaustion or not, it was clear why everything hinged on her leaving D.C.
regardless of what the Bureau would think about her actions.
A woman on a mission, but even if Porter kept the UC assignment on the down low, there had to be evidence of her work in the FBI server, right?
Someone over Porter’s head had to have signed off on the UC operation.
“Yes, and that’s how my contact with Grigory comes into play.
A few weeks ago, I told Dominick that the Bureau believed someone forged the original ledger and key fifteen years ago.
I told him I would track down the forger.
And the next day, I heard from Grigory Volkov himself.
He was interested in the key, not the ledger, which I assume means he is already in possession of either the original or a copy.
But if I can find the key, I can use it to draw out Grigory and take him down, as well as identify any remaining spies in the U.S. listed in that book.”
“What I don’t get is why your parents would hide a real or a fake ledger in Budapest, the location where it was originally stolen. I assume they did it that week before they died. But that doesn’t make much sense to me.”
Her hand went to the column of her throat before sliding beneath the fabric of her tee telling him the heat was now getting to her, too.
“There are so many ideas spinning in my head, and it’s mostly speculation for now.
But that’s why I am down here. To get answers.
Porter left me a message yesterday to go dark.
He said he finally found the forger, and he’s planning to bring him to our safe house on Friday. Anthony’s my best shot.”
“Best shot at what?” A.J.’s stomach dropped. He had a good idea what she was going to say and really didn’t want to hear it.