Crossing the Line (34 page)

“But—”

“Email it now.”

“I’m not supposed—”

“Please, Tom. Do this for me.”

“Okay. Ethan? I hope this thing with Luisa gets sorted out quickly and you come back to work.”

“Yeah.”

He never wanted to see the place again as long as he lived, except he wanted those responsible for Katya’s murder punished. This was how Katya must have felt when she heard about her sister. He let his phone fall and sat in front of his computer, head in hands.
Why did I agree to her going back? What the fuck was I thinking?

What had gone wrong? Maybe they hadn’t found the money and Anna’s passport in the space under the tub. Maybe they had, but still believed Natasha over Katya. His fault. The plan was no good.

The email from Tom arrived. One word, “Sorry”, with an attachment. Ethan’s finger moved the cursor to the download instruction and then hovered before he pressed.

“Oh Christ.” He gulped as the image appeared on the screen and his world ended.

Park took Katya from the house to the apartment for the night after Aleksei concocted some story about an unexpected trip. She suspected he wasn’t going anywhere. Despite all his warmth that day, she’d now been given rope to hang herself. When she thought of all the times he’d told her he didn’t want her to be on her own, and now that was exactly what he wanted. Park gave her a key and said he’d collect her for work the next day.

She didn’t blame Aleksei for being suspicious. After all, it
had
been her who’d told the FBI about the radioactive material but it still hurt that he thought she’d betray him. No matter what she said to the FBI, she couldn’t keep Aleksei safe, unless she could persuade him to change sides against his father. She didn’t see that happening. The chance of punishing Petrenko diminished as every day passed.

It was too risky to call Ethan on her cell phone or from inside the apartment. She guessed Park was watching the building, ready to follow her if she left, but maybe not someone who didn’t look like her. Under several layers of Natasha’s discarded clothes: shorts, t-shirt, three pairs of sweat pants and a baggy shirt, she was far too hot, but it wouldn’t be for long. Katya tucked her hair inside a baseball cap and put on Natasha’s roller blades.

She stayed next to the beach for a while, skating past beautiful people, laughing and drinking, with no more to worry about than if their cars got scratched. She skated through parking lots, did everything she could to throw off anyone who might be following. Her intention had been to phone Ethan but when she saw a cab, she put up her hand.

* * * * *

Ethan heard his buzzer and ignored it. He’d emptied almost an entire bottle of scotch hoping for oblivion and instead everything remained crystal clear.

“Shut the fuck up,” he shouted but the noise continued.

He hauled himself to his feet and staggered to the door. When he saw who it was, he retreated to his bottle. Revnik followed.

“What do you want?” Ethan muttered. “A drink? Sorry, none to spare.”

“Don’t worry. I brought my own.” Revnik leaned against the counter. “I thought you might need company.” He held up a bottle of vodka and poured measures into two glasses.

One swallow and Ethan suddenly felt very drunk. He threw the scotch bottle at the wall and it shattered, glass flying everywhere.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he shouted.

Revnik poured him another drink and started to clean up the glass.

“Leave it,” Ethan said.

“You’ll forget in the night and cut yourself.” He used a piece of cardboard to scoop the fragments into the trash bin.

“I let her down,” he whispered. “She trusted me and I let her get killed.”

“Yeah, you did. It happens.”

No it doesn’t fucking happen. Oh God.

Revnik poured more vodka.

“I’ll never f-forgive myself,” Ethan slurred. He wouldn’t. He’d had enough of the Bureau. He’d forgotten he was a human being first.

“Katya knew there was a risk. Once she’d heard them talk about uranium, she had to carry on.”

What?
“How do you know about it?” He wasn’t so far gone that comment didn’t sound a warning.

“Talk in the squad room. Did she manage to pass anything on about a meeting? Are we still running with this or not?” He tipped more vodka into Ethan’s glass.

Ethan didn’t answer. Oblivion called. The only place he could go and not think. He closed his eyes and heard Revnik curse. He helped Ethan to the bedroom, put him face down on the bed with his head hanging over the side, took off his shoes, opened the window and left.

Something wasn’t right, but Ethan struggled to identify what that was.

* * * * *

When Katya skated around the corner and noticed two cars on Ethan’s driveway, she passed the house, returned minus the blades and hid in the shrubbery. She stripped to shorts and t-shirt, and sat on top of the clothes she’d removed. The air was thick and heavy and she needed a drink. How long would she have to wait?

The door finally opened. As the man walked out and she saw his face, she shifted from hot to cold in a flash. What was Constantin doing here? How did he know Ethan? Had he tortured him, killed him?

She was desperate to get inside, but couldn’t move until the car had gone. Once the red taillights faded in the distance she padded in her socks to Ethan’s door. He didn’t respond to either the buzzer or knocking. She slipped around to the side of the house and spotted an open window.

When she saw Ethan lying half on the bed, Katya hoisted herself up and went through head first, scrambling over to him. His arm felt warm and she gave a quiet moan. She shook him gently and then harder but he didn’t stir. She smelled the alcohol and was torn between anger and relief. Relief won.

“Ethan. Wake up.”

He mumbled something unintelligible.

“Who was your visitor?”

“Uh?”

“Who came to see you?” she repeated.

“Petr. Brought vodka.”

She frowned.

“More vodka. ‘Nother d-drink,” he slurred.

Katya considered throwing cold water over him and wondered if he was too far gone for that. Why had he gotten so drunk?

Ethan woke and wished he hadn’t. An alien creature had attached itself to his head. He didn’t dare move, or open his eyes. He could barely manage to breathe without an intense pain exploding in his skull. He had an increasing desire to vomit. He groaned and that hurt too. The combination of scotch and vodka was not a good idea, nor the previous six beers. Who’d brought vodka? Revnik. Ethan vaguely remembered and didn’t want to remember at all because she was gone. He’d lost his job and he’d lost Katya.

He rolled over and his knee banged against something soft. Someone brushed hair from his eyes and his hand came up fast to grip a wrist. Ethan took a long blink. He really needed to close his eyes again, but he was afraid Katya would disappear if he did.

Oh fuck, I’m dead.
They were both dead, but that was okay because he was there and she was beside him. His second thought was less sensible. He was alive and Katya was dead and in his bed. He didn’t let go of her wrist but struggled to free his other hand from under his body so he could touch her cheek. Warm. She shouldn’t have cheeks. Not after Kirill… Now he was going to throw up.

Ethan rolled off the bed, staggered to the bathroom and fell in love with the toilet. He wrapped his arms around the bowl and retched until he was empty. A glass of water was forced into his hand. He swilled out his mouth and tipped the rest over his head. Then threw up again. Ah, not empty yet.

Once he was sure his legs would support him, he made for the shower. He had no energy to strip. His knees buckled but hands held him upright under the spray. Gradually his world came into focus. He pressed his lips against her wet hair.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No.”

“You were dead. I saw your body.”

“Not me.”

While her clothes dried, she wore one of Ethan’s white T-shirts. He leaned against the counter watching her as she moved around his kitchen making coffee for both of them and toast for her, not him. He’d never eat again. Certainly never drink alcohol again. She wore nothing under the T-shirt. He could see the outline of her nipples and it was driving him wild. Ethan forced his gaze to her face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked for the fourth time.

“First explain why you thought I was dead,” she repeated.

He gave in, walked to his laptop and retrieved the image. Katya gasped.

“I thought it was my fault.”

“It’s Natasha. But it was your fault. Mine too. The plan worked. I told you what would happen. Wasn’t anyone watching Kirill? If you’d watched him or Natasha you’d have caught him.”

Ethan knew she was right.

“Who was the man here earlier?” she asked.

“Did he see you?”

“I waited until he’d gone before I came in.”

“Petr Revnik. An FSB officer from Moscow on a two year exchange program.”

“I also know him as Constantin. Remember the name? He was on the boat when Anna was killed. He’s Petrenko’s friend.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ethan struggled to take in the implications of what she was saying.

“Does he know about me?” she asked.

“We didn’t use your real name. But he knows it. Shit. He thinks they’ve killed you.”

“Ethan, he must know this photograph is of Natasha. He had sex with her.”

“I thought it was you. I…had sex with you.” He brushed her lips with his fingers and sighed. “He’s probably been feeding Petrenko information for years, in Moscow and now here. Maybe Revnik’s move to Miami was engineered to provide Petrenko with an advance warning system. We were tipped off Petrenko had been told we knew about the uranium. Revnik must have told him.” Adrenaline surged. “I could cut out his fucking heart.”

“What was Revnik doing here?”

“He came with vodka, offering sympathy.”

“He must have wanted something.”

Ethan clicked his mind into gear. “The uranium.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I don’t think I was capable of speech.” He touched her cheeks with his fingers, still needing reassurance this wasn’t a dream. “Maybe Petrenko wants to know how much we’ve been told. He won’t let this deal go unless he absolutely has to.”

“Drink this.” Katya offered him half a cup of muddy brown liquid. “Then you can have coffee.”

“What is it?” He frowned.

“It will make you feel better.”

It was hot, sweet and sour at the same time. Ethan’s stomach rebelled as the concoction reached it but he steeled himself not to throw up. Katya bit into her slice of toast, watched his face contort and smiled.

“Better after a little while anyway,” she added as Ethan grabbed her toast to take the taste away.

“I didn’t think you were hungry,” she said.

“Very funny. What the hell was in that? No, don’t tell me. Just pour me a coffee.” Perspiration stood out on his forehead. Maybe coffee wasn’t a good idea. “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”

“There’s something I have to tell you. I was going to find a safe phone but spotted a cab and I’d rather tell you in person.”

“What?”

“There’s a meeting tomorrow—today, between Aleksei and the people who want the uranium. At two in the Vizcaya Museum.”

He sighed.

“I think it’s a trap. Maybe Revnik has told Petrenko I’m
stukatch
but Aleksei wants proof. He’ll have people watching and if federal agents turn up, or he even thinks they’re there, I’m dead. Petrenko hates me so much he’d probably get people to pretend they were FBI to prove his point.”

“Shit,” Ethan muttered.

“But I overheard Aleksei say something about doing the real thing in the morning. I think there is a meeting today, but not at the Vizcaya.”

“You don’t know where?”

“No.”

“Christ.” Ethan dragged his fingers through his hair. “How did you get here? How did you get in?”

“I used Natasha’s rollerblades and left the building all padded out with clothes. If Park or any of your agents were watching, I didn’t see them follow.”

Ethan didn’t want to tell her Bureau surveillance had been cancelled. “The cameras in the building will have caught you.”

“Oh fuck.”

“We can do something about that. We wiped the tapes after we went in last time.”

She bent to take her clothes out of the drier and Ethan groaned and looked away.

“Go over everything again,” he said. “I need to think about this more clearly.”

The buzzer sounded and they both froze.

“Into the bedroom,” Ethan whispered. “Stay there.”

He took his back-up gun from the drawer, a .357 magnum Smith and Wesson and slipped to the window. Seconds later he yanked the door open, punched Revnik, grabbed him and dragged him inside. Ethan slammed the Russian up against the wall, holding the gun to his head.

Katya came out of the bedroom, pulling down her top.

“
Zdrastvy,
Katya,” he said.

“
Privyet,
Constantin.”

“What are you doing here?” Ethan kept him against the wall.

“I came to make sure you were all right. I think I have my answer.”

“I could fucking kill you.” He pressed the gun harder into the man’s temple.

“Don’t you want to hear what I have to say first?”

He lowered the weapon but as Revnik relaxed, Ethan grabbed him by the throat.

“Ethan, calm down.” Katya pulled at his arm.

“She’s right. We need to talk.”

He let him go and gestured to the living room. Revnik wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His mouth was bleeding.

“There’s no excuse for what you did,” Ethan hissed.

“What have I done?”