kill you both.” I looked at Vasiliy. “Killing you was the only way to stop it.” I looked back to Luka, trying to drink in a last glimpse of him through the blur of tears. “I’m sorry. I’m CIA.”
He stared at me for three quick breaths. Then he stepped behind the table, pulled open a drawer and grabbed a handgun. He pointed the barrel right at my head.
I closed my eyes and waited for the bullet.
“Get out,” I heard at last. Luka’s voice, but choked up with so much emotion that it barely sounded like him.
I opened my eyes and stared at him, tears coursing down my cheeks. “They’re going to kill you!” I sobbed.
“GET OUT!” he screamed. I saw his finger tense on the trigger.
I turned and ran, blundering down the stairs. I staggered on my heels, half-blinded by tears. I finally made it to the front door and out, past the bewildered guards.
I ran. I didn’t know where I was going or even where I was. I had nothing but the dress I was wearing.
I was still running when the cell phone Adam gave me rang. I stared at it in disgust for three rings before I answered.
“I had someone watching the house,” he said. “They saw you run out. I’m disappointed, Arianna.”
“Fuck you,” I told him with bravery I didn’t feel.
“No,” he said coldly. “You see, you no longer work for the CIA. You’ve been officially recorded as switching sides to the enemy. You’re on your own. Arianna Ross no longer exists. If you try to use her passport or credit cards, the authorities will pick you up for fraud. And, as far as we know, Arianna Scott is an unemployed languages graduate who’s still in the US.”
I shook my head. “You can’t do this—”
“So really, Arianna, it’s fuck you .” And he hung up.
Seconds later, the cell phone went dead, its number disconnected.
I staggered to a stop by a payphone and tried calling the CIA main switchboard. None of my access codes worked. I’d been completely erased.
The CIA had disavowed me as a traitor. And that meant that I could never convince them of what Adam had done.
Vasiliy was still going to die and now, Luka as well. I’d condemned him with my own weakness. And Adam was going to get away with it. He’d keep on making millions from the gun trade and that bastard Olaf Ralavich would take control of the whole of the North American gun trade—only his smuggling would have all of the violence Luka had been working to end.
I was only wearing a dress. It was starting to snow, the flakes turned into little daggers of ice by a bitter north wind, stabbing the cold into my exposed arms and face. But I was past caring. The cold soaking into my body from the outside was nothing compared to the way I was freezing up inside. All the parts of me Luka had brought back to life were shutting down again, this time forever. I’d lost him, the one man who could have saved me.
I slumped down beside the payphone, hugged my knees and sobbed.
The wind scoured my skin and pushed the warmth inside me deeper and deeper, like an animal withdrawing into its burrow. I could feel myself losing feeling in my hands and toes, but the loss of caring was worse. I no longer saw the people passing by on the street—my eyes just stared fixedly ahead. I no longer felt the sidewalk under me as I sat, or smelled the exhaust fumes from the traffic as it rushed past. I felt as if I was floating.
The warmth receded and receded inside me. My head grew swimmy and my thoughts slowed and became big, lumbering barges creaking through ice. I don’t know how long I sat there—an hour? More? I shivered at first, but then I stopped and just felt sleepy.
I was sitting in the snow on a windswept street with the temperature well below zero. My thin dress was soaked through and just made the cold sink in faster.
Somewhere, on a very distant level, I knew I was going to die.
But I’d been there before, trapped in a car, screaming, and this creeping cold was easier and quicker. I could
He stared at me for three quick breaths. Then he stepped behind the table, pulled open a drawer and grabbed a handgun. He pointed the barrel right at my head.
I closed my eyes and waited for the bullet.
“Get out,” I heard at last. Luka’s voice, but choked up with so much emotion that it barely sounded like him.
I opened my eyes and stared at him, tears coursing down my cheeks. “They’re going to kill you!” I sobbed.
“GET OUT!” he screamed. I saw his finger tense on the trigger.
I turned and ran, blundering down the stairs. I staggered on my heels, half-blinded by tears. I finally made it to the front door and out, past the bewildered guards.
I ran. I didn’t know where I was going or even where I was. I had nothing but the dress I was wearing.
I was still running when the cell phone Adam gave me rang. I stared at it in disgust for three rings before I answered.
“I had someone watching the house,” he said. “They saw you run out. I’m disappointed, Arianna.”
“Fuck you,” I told him with bravery I didn’t feel.
“No,” he said coldly. “You see, you no longer work for the CIA. You’ve been officially recorded as switching sides to the enemy. You’re on your own. Arianna Ross no longer exists. If you try to use her passport or credit cards, the authorities will pick you up for fraud. And, as far as we know, Arianna Scott is an unemployed languages graduate who’s still in the US.”
I shook my head. “You can’t do this—”
“So really, Arianna, it’s fuck you .” And he hung up.
Seconds later, the cell phone went dead, its number disconnected.
I staggered to a stop by a payphone and tried calling the CIA main switchboard. None of my access codes worked. I’d been completely erased.
The CIA had disavowed me as a traitor. And that meant that I could never convince them of what Adam had done.
Vasiliy was still going to die and now, Luka as well. I’d condemned him with my own weakness. And Adam was going to get away with it. He’d keep on making millions from the gun trade and that bastard Olaf Ralavich would take control of the whole of the North American gun trade—only his smuggling would have all of the violence Luka had been working to end.
I was only wearing a dress. It was starting to snow, the flakes turned into little daggers of ice by a bitter north wind, stabbing the cold into my exposed arms and face. But I was past caring. The cold soaking into my body from the outside was nothing compared to the way I was freezing up inside. All the parts of me Luka had brought back to life were shutting down again, this time forever. I’d lost him, the one man who could have saved me.
I slumped down beside the payphone, hugged my knees and sobbed.
The wind scoured my skin and pushed the warmth inside me deeper and deeper, like an animal withdrawing into its burrow. I could feel myself losing feeling in my hands and toes, but the loss of caring was worse. I no longer saw the people passing by on the street—my eyes just stared fixedly ahead. I no longer felt the sidewalk under me as I sat, or smelled the exhaust fumes from the traffic as it rushed past. I felt as if I was floating.
The warmth receded and receded inside me. My head grew swimmy and my thoughts slowed and became big, lumbering barges creaking through ice. I don’t know how long I sat there—an hour? More? I shivered at first, but then I stopped and just felt sleepy.
I was sitting in the snow on a windswept street with the temperature well below zero. My thin dress was soaked through and just made the cold sink in faster.
Somewhere, on a very distant level, I knew I was going to die.
But I’d been there before, trapped in a car, screaming, and this creeping cold was easier and quicker. I could