His code wasn’t just perfect; it was crazy beautiful in its complexity.
Me: Kuznetsov?
Unknown: Yes. You know my name. You use it.
Me: Do you know someone called Belyaev?
Unknown: Knew of him. He’s dead now.
Me: I know.
Unknown: Why do you ask?
Me: Do you know WHY he died? Or how?
Unknown: No.
Me: He died on the same day as your son.
Unknown: What?!
Me: Do you know that he was a Sparrow?
I purposely kept that cryptic. Whether or not his son was a Sparrow was something I didn’t feel like dropping over text. Whatever I thought of him, hewasold.
Unknown: I did. He was highly ranked.
Me: One of the highest.
Unknown: Was his death related to Aleks’?
Me: Yes. We’re still ascertaining how.
Unknown: Belyaev was feeding us intel.
Me: On?
Unknown: Art trafficking from looting during Operation: Enduring Freedom.
Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
Unknown: For obvious reasons.
My breath hitched.
Me: Me?
Unknown: Yes. That was why you were swallowed up by their trafficking operation, no?
Well, that and the double agent in our ranks, but I wasn’t about to share anything of that nature with him.
Me: You were trying to find me?
Unknown: Yes. Belyaev was an old friend of Aleks’. From school.
Me: They were friends?!
Unknown: Yes. Aleks, like your mother, was a double agent.