Page 4 of France Face-Off
“You’re an escort for Natalya Zotin, a United Kingdom citizen of Russian descent, who speaks fluent Russian and translates for the Russian Minister of Energy and the Russian in charge of Internal Affairs. She should be entering the reception hall at this moment.”
A woman with auburn hair and wearing a green dress stepped through the entryway, handed her invitation to the security guard and looked out across the room. When her gaze met his, she smiled.
“Red hair?” Striker asked, careful not to move his lips too much.
“That’s her,” Lucie said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Does she know why I’m here?” he asked.
Lucie didn’t respond.
Great. He didn’t know if this Natalya woman was another one of Lucie’s agents or if he was supposed to pretend to be a male escort. How he was supposed to keep an eye on the Russians while entertaining a translator was a mystery to him. With the Russians in his peripheral vision, he moved toward the redhead in the green dress.
As they converged on the floor of the reception hall, she held out her hands. “Ah, yes. You must be Daniel Rayne. I was told to expect a handsome man as my escort this evening.”
“You must be Natalya.” He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. The name she’d addressed him by was the one on the fake passport he’d received in his packet from Lucie.
She arched a perfect eyebrow. “You’re American?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She spoke perfect Queen’s English with only a slight Russian accent. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth were a subtle indication of her age. She had to be in her late forties or early fifties and aging well.
“Do you speak any Russian at all?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Sadly, no.”
Natalya sighed. “Up to that point, you were almost perfect.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.” He offered her his elbow.
She slipped her hand through the crook and turned toward the other guests in the reception hall.
Striker spotted the two Russians standing with the German.
“I suppose I need to work,” Natalya said. “Shall we?”
Following her lead, Striker stepped out across the floor and headed toward the Russians.
“I know they speak fluent German, and the German speaks fluent Russian. So, I only have to be close by in case someone else wants to enter the conversation. Which means, I won’t be completely tasked all evening. I had hoped to dance. You do dance, don’t you?”
Striker grimaced. “My dancing has been strictly limited to country and western music. My dancing skills are in the form of the two-step and the waltz. I’m good for those.”
She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. I am not familiar with the two-step, but the waltz…it is beautiful, no?”
Once again, Great, he thought. How was he supposed to keep track of the Russians while he was dancing as an escort for the translator? At that moment, he wished he had a handgun, a rifle or a knife. At least, then, he’d feel like he was in his element.
The reception got into full swing. Natalya made her rounds, following the Russians around the room. Striker quickly realized the woman could translate in a number of different languages, including Italian, French, English and German.
“I’m learning Japanese,” she said, “But I’m not proficient yet.” The music started from the string quartet in the corner. Several songs were played before Natalya smiled and said, “That’s a waltz, would you like to dance with me?”
He frowned. “Are you sure you can take a break from translating?”
She laughed. “Yes, for at least one song.”
He nodded and held out his arms.
She stepped into them and placed a hand on his shoulder, the other hand in his palm and he led her across the floor in a waltz. The music was different, but the dance was the same, and he managed not to make a fool of himself in front of all the important diplomats. As they whirled around the floor, he took the opportunities he could to keep an eye on the Russians. In one turn around the floor, he noticed the woman in the silver dress approaching Petrov and Baranovsky. When she spoke, they turned and responded, stern faces softening into smiles.
