Requiem For a Glass Heart (17 page)

Hain nodded at her arms. “The implants will eliminate the possibility of your wire being discovered, and they will eliminate the constant threat that goes with discovery. Essentially, you’re our fly on the wall, Cate, and flies don’t get backup.”

Cate looked at the notepad in her lap. She rolled the pencil in her fingers, feeling the long ridges thrumming against her flesh.

“Strey knew about this from the beginning?” she asked.

“Yeah, he did. In detail.”

That was interesting, she thought. Very interesting.

“What about Stepanov? Does he know about the implants?”

Hain shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

T
HERE WAS NO USE HAVING A LENGTHY DISCUSSION ABOUT THE
absence of a backup. That was the job assignment. She didn’t appreciate that they had handled it the way they had, but she understood why they felt it was necessary to do so. The operation was the important thing here, not her feelings. If she were the sort of person to take such things personally, she wouldn’t be doing undercover work. They had, in fact, judged her correctly. This was clearly an important operation. The players were about as big as they got, and it was being run by an elite group of agents, domestic and foreign. She definitely wanted to be a part of it. The down side would have to be a hell of a lot steeper than it was now to cause her to walk away from it.

And it mattered significantly that Strey had been fully informed about the details and still had recommended her. That was immensely gratifying and did wonders for her confidence. If anything, the thoughts that ran through her mind in the few moments following Hain’s revelation only solidified her conviction to stay with the operation. She had been carefully chosen for a one-of-a-kind job. She wasn’t about to let it get away from her.

They arranged to meet Valentin Stepanov in one of the business hotels on the Katy Freeway, a twenty-mile stretch of traffic and commerce, soaring cloverleafs, corporate centers
and commercial parks, glass and steel crowding right up against the hurling transportation of product and persons in a ceaseless bidirectional stream of mercantilism reaching west from downtown into the flat coastal plains on the way to San Antonio. Stepanov was waiting for them. He stood up anxiously as they filed into the room: Ometov, Erika, Ann, and Cate. His physique was not unlike Curtis Hain’s, large-boned, stocky, but he was a decade or more younger. Cate was surprised that he was good-looking, with rough, unrefined features, dark brown hair graying at the temples, his hairline low on his forehead. He wore a good suit, white shirt, and tie and was clean-shaven. His dress was completely Western, and nothing in his appearance would have led her to believe he was anything but a fifth-generation American.

Smiling easily, he shook hands with Ometov. It was clear that they had worked together before and that Stepanov was pleased to see him. They exchanged several phrases in Russian before Stepanov turned to Erika and again exchanged a few phrases, this time in German. He was equally warm with Ann, even a little more familiar, nearly flirtatious. Since she was the one who had turned him, he had known her longer than any of them, and his attitude toward her seemed to contain an honorable respect for the victor. When Ann introduced him to Gate, Stepanov’s gaze fluttered all over her, confirming his first impressions from the pictures he had been shown.

“Please, everybody sit down,” he said, sweeping out his arms, “but Cate, please, sit here.” He indicated the corner at the foot of the bed. He sat down immediately in front of her in an armchair, looked at her a moment, and then turned abruptly to Ometov.

“Leo, I called my machine. I will be staying at a hotel called the Chateau Touraine.”

Ann looked at Cate. “Know it?”

“Sure. It’s big, expensive. Private grounds. Very exclusive.”

“Okay,” Ann said, getting up and going to the telephone. “I’m going to let Hain know there’s a good chance our boys in the air may be headed there when they get on the ground.” She looked at her watch. “Which won’t be any too long now.”

Stepanov turned back to Cate, instantly ignoring everyone else in the room.

“I’m not going to ask you how you feel about this because you are here, obviously agreeing,” he said. His accent was soft; he had done a good job of picking up American pronunciations and jargon. “But I must tell you, for me this is a life-and-death situation, and so I am going to be very strict and tell you that you have to do everything I tell you to do if you and I are going to stay alive.” He looked at her. “Do you understand that?”

But he didn’t give her time to answer.

“I know American women,” he said, nodding with assurance. “Feminists’ rights. Independence.” He shook his head. “Let me tell you, you have to screw feminists’ rights if you want to get out of this. No Russian man would have anything to do with a feminist. You are ‘our women.’” He opened his hands in a gesture of finality. “That’s it. Okay? If this is impossible for you, decide right now.”

There was silence for two or three beats while he and Cate stared at each other.

“I don’t have any problem with doing what I have to do to stay alive,” Cate said.

“Sometimes I will have to treat you in a way that will insult you if you have feminist views,” Stepanov went on, as if he hadn’t heard her answer. “You have to put that out of your mind. Do you understand what I am saying? I say this to you right up front because I am guessing this is going to be hard for you. I say this to you because I don’t want to die, and if you cannot deal with this, then don’t waste my time. The only thing I care about is getting out of this alive.”

He stopped and glanced around the room at the others, then turned his attention back to Cate.

“Look, I don’t care about you, okay? I’m going to be too fucking scared to want to play with you. But I may have to deal with you in such a way that you will feel like you are taking a lot of shit.” He jerked his head at Erika without taking his eyes off Cate. “Ask her.”

The room was silent for a moment as Stepanov stared at Cate.

“I understand,” Cate said. “And I agree to it. But if you go any further with me than I think you have to, I’m going to eat your balls when this is over.”

Dead silence. Stepanov’s face was an absolute blank, but only for a second.

“Let us say I have seen you naked in every way you can imagine,” he said, his expression unchanged. “What have I seen?”

This question seemed so abrupt and provocative that Cate suddenly realized what was happening. Stepanov was being deliberately offensive to see how far he could go with her. He was making it plain to her that he wasn’t going to worry much about her feelings, and he wanted her to know that from the start.

For an instant she imagined herself naked, imagined herself trying to explain the shape of her body to him.

“I have a birthmark on my right hip,” she said, “halfway down.” She hesitated, but only instantaneously, nothing noticeable, she hoped. “I have a small tattoo of a red flower, a poppy, just above my genital hair … right of center.”

“Anything else about the tattoo? Somebody’s initials?”

“No, Well, a small green leaf below the poppy.” She suddenly felt stupid. Hell, she didn’t know. It infuriated her to have to tell this man something so intimate, the secret results of a crazy weekend with Tavio before they were married.

“That’s it?”

“I can’t think of anything else out of the ordinary,” she said. “Anything you’d need to know,” she added pointedly. “I want you to shave between your legs,” he said. “What?”

“My women do that. Sergei knows it.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake—” Ann began, but Cate stopped her.

“No,” she said, her eyes fixed on Stepanov. “I’ll shave between my legs.”

“Good,” he said quickly. “Now, that’s all of that.”

Still ignoring everyone else there, he continued to study Cate as he thoughtfully took an ashtray from a dresser beside his chair, put the ashtray in his lap, crossed his legs, and lighted a cigarette. He exhaled the smoke, not bothering to turn his head away, his eyes fixed on her.

“I should explain something to you,” Stepanov said. “Under normal circumstances this would be impossible to do. If Sergei had wanted to come to New York, no. We could not do this. In New York I need bodyguards, because … well, I have a history there. These people would know you are not
my mistress. But on this trip Sergei told me to come alone, leave the bodyguards in New York.”

“Come alone?”

“Well, a woman.” He shrugged dismissively. “It goes without saying.”

“What about him?” Cate asked. “He’ll bring bodyguards, won’t he?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Stepanov frowned. “When he has high-level, very secret meetings, he will actually travel without bodyguards. A big change from the old days, I can tell you. He doesn’t like showing up with an entourage, like the Italians. He thinks of himself as a businessman now. When businessmen come to do business, they don’t have all these men hanging around. They only attract attention, opening doors, kowtowing. There’s no need to make a show of strength here. There’s no danger here. Moscow, St. Petersburg, Berlin, New York, that’s different. But here, he wants to slip in, have a few business meetings, slip out. That’s the new way. It’s not like the movies.”

They were all aware of the movies.

“You don’t have any idea why he’s coming, then,” Ann said.

Stepanov turned to her. “Business. That goes without saying.”

It seemed that a lot went without saying for Stepanov.

“He didn’t tell you what business.”

“No.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Yes. Well, it’s happened before, but it’s not usual.”

“How do you feel about that? Does that make you uneasy?” Cate asked.

“No, it just tells me that this is probably a high-level, very important meeting.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Stepanov mashed out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray. He reached up and put the ashtray back on the dresser. The hotel room was spare, depressing. Outside, commerce raced to and fro on the expressway.

“So how is it going to work?” Cate asked. “What do we do from here?”

“We will have to arrive at the hotel together. You need luggage, clothes. A week of clothes.” He looked at Ometov
and then Ann. “I really don’t expect this to be a trip in which Sergei is intending to play a lot of games. He did not have me prepare that way. He is sending two people ahead of him, which is normal. If he feels something odd about her”—he jerked his head at Cate—“he might have them go through our room. You have a history for her already?”

“We’re working on it,” Ann said.

“Okay,” Stepanov said, “good. I need to have that as soon as possible.” He turned back to Cate. “We don’t have time to create a long story about us. I think it should be this way: I have been to Houston a number of times. Sergei is interested in a couple of Russian operations here. Anyway, I think you should be my mistress for these trips. I see you when I come to Houston. There is something good and something not so good about this. Good, he will not expect us to be so familiar with each other. He will not expect you to know the people I know. So there is less of a chance of tripping up on your story. You stay with whatever background they are making for you, and you will be all right.”

“And the not so good?” Cate asked.

“Well, not so good is that Sergei is going to be less inclined to discuss business in front of you. But maybe there will be opportunities. I will try to make opportunities. If he is a little concerned, but not too concerned, he will probably speak Russian. I’ll just have to tell you what he said later.”

“Will you be carrying a gun?” Erika asked.

“Yes.” He looked at Cate. “Smith & Wesson forty-five, model 645. Do you know this gun?”

“I’ve shot it.”

“You had better know it well. It will be the closest gun to you if you have to use one.”

“When do you think Sergei will arrive?” Ometov asked.

“Tonight, I think.”

“These two guys from London are supposed to be in this afternoon,” Ann said. “That’s not much time for them to do advance work.”

“I’m guessing.”

“But he doesn’t know where you are staying?”

“Of course not. Not where I am staying now.”

“How is he going to contact you?”

“I am supposed to check in at Chateau Touraine. There will be a message there for me with the names of the two men
who will be my contacts. That’s all I know. It would be best if we arrived today. Tonight is all right. Can she be ready tonight?”

“We think so.”

“When will I know?”

Ann looked at her watch. “Let’s set a time when she can join you.”

“Nine o’clock?” Stepanov said.

“At the Four Seasons, downtown?”

“Yes. But in the parking garage. I’ll check out and meet you in the parking garage. Level two. Okay?”

“Level two. Four Seasons. Nine o’clock.”

Cate sat listening to them discuss her transportation as if she were a piece of luggage. It all seemed to be moving too fast. It seemed there were huge holes in the planning. She had a thousand what-if and what-about questions. Suddenly the timetable was racing, and she was feeling frighteningly unprepared for what was about to happen.