concentrate, he thought.
"A man took your cell phone?" Kagan felt he'd achieved a small victory when his right hand touched the chair.
"You promised to tell us why they want the baby," Meredith demanded. "I made a mistake. I don't know why I brought you inside."
"You brought me inside because you heard the baby crying." Kagan fought for energy. "Because you couldn't leave the baby out there in the snow." He took a deep breath. "Because you're a decent person, and this is the one night of the year you can't refuse to take care of someone who's hurt."
With effort, Kagan pulled himself onto the chair. His gaze drifted toward a wall phone next to the night-light across from him.
At least, it had once been a phone. Someone had used a hammer to smash it into pieces. The hammer lay on the counter.
"Is the man who took your cell phone the same man who did that?' Kagan pointed toward the debris.
From his new position, he had a better view of the side of Meredith's face. Even in the dim illumination provided by the night-light, it was obvious that her cheek was bruised and her eye was swelling shut. She had dried blood on the side of her mouth.
"Is he the same man who beat you?" Kagan asked.
The question filled him with bitterness. To prove himself to the Russian mob, he'd been forced to beat many people. Often, the Pakhan had ordered him to punch women in the face, to knee them in the groin and knock them to the floor, kicking their legs and sides to make husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers do what the Pakhan wanted.
His mission controllers had been delighted by how effectively such tactics had earned Kagan access to the mob's inner circle.
But each night, Kagan had suffered nightmares--and each morning, he'd been filled with shame.
Now his shame reinforced his outrage at what had been done to Meredith. His powerful emotions started adrenaline flowing, giving him energy.
"If you don't tell me why those men want this baby, Cole and I are going for the police," Meredith threatened.
"No," Kagan blurted. "You don't dare go outside. It isn't safe."
The baby squirmed in Meredith's arms. Its tiny face shriveled and prompted Kagan to fear it was about to cry again.
"We can't let it make noise," he said. "It's hungry. You've got to feed it and change it. Can you do that? Can you help the baby? Anything to stop it from crying again."
The baby whimpered, pushing against Meredith.
"Cole," Kagan said urgently, "would you like to help your mother and me? Is there a bedroom that faces the front of the house? Does the bedroom have a television?"
The boy looked puzzled. "Mine."
"Go in there and turn on the television. Close the curtains but leave just enough space so the glow from the television can be seen through the window. We want them to think everything's normal in here."
Cole wrinkled his brow.
"Then go into the living room and look out the window. Pretend you're admiring the snowfall," Kagan told him. "If you see anyone out there, don't react. Just peer up as if you're waiting for Santa Claus."
"I'm too old to believe in Santa Claus."
"Of course. I don't know what I was thinking. Obviously, you're too old to believe in Santa Claus. Just fool anyone who might be watching. Admire the snowfall. Pretend you're a spy. Would you like to learn to be a spy?"
"Is that what you claim you are?" Meredith asked. Dismay crept into her voice.
"Yes." Kagan slumped on the chair, exhaustion overwhelming him. "God help me, yes, I'm a spy."
* * *
ANDREI FOLLOWED the various tracks along the lane, taking note as some of them angled toward houses behind chest- high walls, presumably evidence of someone returning home.
Or that's what I'm supposed to think, isn't that right, Pyotyr? Andrei decided. But maybe one of these sets of tracks belongs to you.
Solitary footprints went through a gate on the right. Andrei peered through the falling snow toward a living room window. Next to Christmas lights on a hearth, a man held up a treat while
"A man took your cell phone?" Kagan felt he'd achieved a small victory when his right hand touched the chair.
"You promised to tell us why they want the baby," Meredith demanded. "I made a mistake. I don't know why I brought you inside."
"You brought me inside because you heard the baby crying." Kagan fought for energy. "Because you couldn't leave the baby out there in the snow." He took a deep breath. "Because you're a decent person, and this is the one night of the year you can't refuse to take care of someone who's hurt."
With effort, Kagan pulled himself onto the chair. His gaze drifted toward a wall phone next to the night-light across from him.
At least, it had once been a phone. Someone had used a hammer to smash it into pieces. The hammer lay on the counter.
"Is the man who took your cell phone the same man who did that?' Kagan pointed toward the debris.
From his new position, he had a better view of the side of Meredith's face. Even in the dim illumination provided by the night-light, it was obvious that her cheek was bruised and her eye was swelling shut. She had dried blood on the side of her mouth.
"Is he the same man who beat you?" Kagan asked.
The question filled him with bitterness. To prove himself to the Russian mob, he'd been forced to beat many people. Often, the Pakhan had ordered him to punch women in the face, to knee them in the groin and knock them to the floor, kicking their legs and sides to make husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers do what the Pakhan wanted.
His mission controllers had been delighted by how effectively such tactics had earned Kagan access to the mob's inner circle.
But each night, Kagan had suffered nightmares--and each morning, he'd been filled with shame.
Now his shame reinforced his outrage at what had been done to Meredith. His powerful emotions started adrenaline flowing, giving him energy.
"If you don't tell me why those men want this baby, Cole and I are going for the police," Meredith threatened.
"No," Kagan blurted. "You don't dare go outside. It isn't safe."
The baby squirmed in Meredith's arms. Its tiny face shriveled and prompted Kagan to fear it was about to cry again.
"We can't let it make noise," he said. "It's hungry. You've got to feed it and change it. Can you do that? Can you help the baby? Anything to stop it from crying again."
The baby whimpered, pushing against Meredith.
"Cole," Kagan said urgently, "would you like to help your mother and me? Is there a bedroom that faces the front of the house? Does the bedroom have a television?"
The boy looked puzzled. "Mine."
"Go in there and turn on the television. Close the curtains but leave just enough space so the glow from the television can be seen through the window. We want them to think everything's normal in here."
Cole wrinkled his brow.
"Then go into the living room and look out the window. Pretend you're admiring the snowfall," Kagan told him. "If you see anyone out there, don't react. Just peer up as if you're waiting for Santa Claus."
"I'm too old to believe in Santa Claus."
"Of course. I don't know what I was thinking. Obviously, you're too old to believe in Santa Claus. Just fool anyone who might be watching. Admire the snowfall. Pretend you're a spy. Would you like to learn to be a spy?"
"Is that what you claim you are?" Meredith asked. Dismay crept into her voice.
"Yes." Kagan slumped on the chair, exhaustion overwhelming him. "God help me, yes, I'm a spy."
* * *
ANDREI FOLLOWED the various tracks along the lane, taking note as some of them angled toward houses behind chest- high walls, presumably evidence of someone returning home.
Or that's what I'm supposed to think, isn't that right, Pyotyr? Andrei decided. But maybe one of these sets of tracks belongs to you.
Solitary footprints went through a gate on the right. Andrei peered through the falling snow toward a living room window. Next to Christmas lights on a hearth, a man held up a treat while
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