Page 24 of Lethal Alliance

“The children, Papa.” I keep my voice even with an effort. “Can you just ask one of the guards if they’re okay?” I can feel tears beginning to form behind my eyes. It’s something that happens more and more frequently lately.

Hormones, I guess.

“Yes. I will ask. But, Darya. Tell me where you are.”

I shake my head. “I can’t,” I whisper. “Find out about the children.” I hang up before the tears begin to fall.

I stare dumbly out over the valley at the growing morning. I have no idea what to do next.

Or for the rest of my life.

I feel none of the edgy excitement I did back when I ran from the Orlovs, nor any of the single-minded determination that has carried me through the lonely years that followed. I can’t find the hard thread of tenacity that I’ve clung to, the certainty that one day there will be an end to this. All I see now is an endless road into nothingness ahead of me, a journey that has no end nor even the promise of one. Just a lonely string of days where I must live a lie—and raise my unborn child to live it with me.

What kind of a life is this for a child?To never belong anywhere, to have no past or family to call their own? To live with the constant threat that one day they may be found and held hostage to a legacy they don’t even understand?

To never know their father?

I groan aloud, covering my face with my hands. I can’t escape the memory of Roman’s face when he believed I’d betrayed him. My own hurt at discovering his true identity is nothing compared to what I felt when I saw that implacable wall rise in his eyes. Anytime I think of our unborn child, that wall is all I see. A barrier to any possible future.

I stand up impatiently. I have to walk. I can’t sit here all day, seeing Roman’s face over and again. I saw it a thousand times on the journey here, every time I reread his letter. It’s one of the reasons I burned it.

I have to put those memories aside now. Try to find the space to build something new.

Try not to imagine the lifeless bodies of the children.

I shudder, feeling another cold wave of fury that Alexei could have knowingly endangered them like that. My feet hit the cobblestones hard as I move mindlessly through the labyrinthine alleys that make up the Albayzin, the medieval part of Granada. The brisk pace and beautiful surroundings do nothing to ameliorate my anger.

My brother is as lost to me as Roman is.Though for different reasons.

While I have sympathy for what Alexei has suffered at the Orlovs’ hands, I can’t ever forgive him for that bomb. For knowingly risking the children’s lives.

I even feel angry at Papa. He told me Alexei would only be in touch with our Argentinian contact in the event of an emergency. Yet Alexei knew the name on my new passport. The only way he could have known that is if the contact told him, and that means he’s been in touch more than just in emergencies. I find it impossible to believe that Papa doesn’t know that. Which means that he, too, knows more than he is saying. That my father and brother have been keeping me in the dark, planning together, just like they did back when we escaped the Orlovs and they didn’t tell me that Alexei was going to stay behind.

I’m tired of the secrets and lies. Exhausted by what has taken place and all that I’ve lost because of it.

I walk up and down the steep, narrow alleys, stopping occasionally to buy a bottle of water. I have no appetite and I can’t stop. Every time I stop walking, I’m swamped by emotions I can’t handle. As dusk comes closer, I turn toward the steep road that leads up to and past the Alhambra, heading for the mountain above it, and the solitude of nothing but wind and birds.

8

ROMAN

“How the fuck can she just disappear?”

I grip the back of Pavel’s chair in the lab, staring around at the tense faces of his whizz kids. “According to your research, Darya boarded two different flights to Switzerland, but didn’t actually take either of them. Nor was she on theGuapa.” I stare at my white knuckles on the back of the chair. “She can’t have got far on land, and shemusthave left a trail.”

I’m met by a roomful of downcast eyes and awkward shuffling.

“Fuck.” I shake my head tiredly.

“On the upside,” Pavel says cautiously, “we do know where the girls are. Or at least, we have a lead.”

“Mickey told me.” I stare unseeing at the bank of screens. “Private plane, landed at Miami–Opa Locka Executive Airport early this morning. Owned by an Orlov company. The passenger manifest was deleted from the record, but you pulled Masha’s and Ofelia’s passport details from US immigration, correct?”

“Only just in time.” Pavel twirls his fidget spinner incessantly, and for once I don’t react. He’s worked nonstop since this began, as have his whole team. “Record of their entry was wiped barely moments after it was registered. The Orlovs aren’t taking any chances.”

“Mickey said you tracked the vehicle carrying the girls to the Petrovsky’s Coconut Grove compound in Miami?” I try to keep my voice steady, but all I can see are the scars on Darya’s back, and all I can hear are my father’s screams. I know what the Orlovs are capable of. The thought of my girls in their hands turns my gut to water in a way no enemy ever has.

Pavel nods. “I’m guessing we’ll get the Orlovs’ demands any minute now.”

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