Page 112 of Secret Weapon

“The case is still a work in progress, and you’re interrupting the ‘work’ part.”

Of course, Bradley completely ignored that complaint.“All these whiteboards are blocking out the light.”

“It’s dark outdoors.”

“Yes, but in the morning it won’t be.Maybe we could just move them to the side a bit?”

Now Black stepped in.“The whiteboards stay where they are.”

“Okay, okay, it was only a suggestion.”Bradley jabbed a finger at the photo of Marat Timonenko.We’d confirmed his identity now, but his friend was still an unknown.The facial recognition program had scored a big fat zero, unsurprising given the awkward angle the photo had been taken at.“This guy needs a haircut.The style he has is too long and all wrong for his bone structure.”

“If I ever speak to him in person, I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“You’d be doing him a favour, trust me.Who’s his friend?He dresses better.”

“That, dear Bradley, is the big question.If you find out, let us know.”

“If I find out, can we have a Valentine’s party this year?”

“If you find out, I’ll dress up as the Queen of bloody Hearts.”

“Boy, somebody needs to take a chill pill this evening.”

Black’s lips twitched as Emmy sucked in a calming breath.“I’m perfectly cool, thank you.Don’t you have places to go, people to see?”

“My friend Barnabyishaving a small get-together.Maybe I could drop by for a few minutes?”

“Great idea—off you go.”

Once Bradley had swished out the door in a flourish of tangerine, I whispered to Alex, “Are they always like that?”

“They love each other really.”

“How long has Bradley worked for her?”

“Over a decade.”

Wow.I had to admire his perseverance.And maybe, just maybe, I had to give Emmy points for patience.

We plotted out a course of action for the next day, but with Blok removed from the picture, we were starting from scratch.While Alex was feeling me up on the golf course, Vance and Hallie had been running background checks on the rest of the consulate staff.Emmy’s government contacts had provided the basics, but there were plenty of blanks to fill in.

We had a list, a ranked list, and with the elimination of Blok, there were sixteen names left.At the top?We had a three-way tie for first place.Maxim Agapov wasn’t smart enough to pull off the theft on his own, in my opinion, but he certainly had the ethics, and if he’d found himself a partner with a brain… Yes, he was a possibility.Then there was Marat Timonenko.His father was smart, ruthless, and connected, and if his son had inherited a fraction of those traits, then he might be a problem.Finally, we had a new player.Ruslan Smirnov—almost like Smirnoff vodka, Vance joked, which was ironic because the vodka had also been called Smirnov until the Smirnov family was forced to flee Russia in the October Revolution.

A new name, a new start.

Darya.Darla.

Anyhow, Ruslan Smirnov was a middle-aged security guard at the consulate, and he’d recently come into some money if his social media feed was anything to go by.A lottery win, he said, but how many lottery millionaires kept working a minimum-wage job?Not many.Ruslan drove to work in a Toyota Camry, but on his days off, he cruised the streets of LA in a shiny new Ferrari.Something didn’t add up.

With any luck, we’d find out what it was tomorrow.Or even later today—midnight had come and gone.At least, I thought it had.The clock on the wall was some weird abstract thing consisting of a waterfall of coloured blobs, curved hands, and no numbers.But Emmy yawned and stood, so I figured it was time to sleep.In the surveillance sweepstakes, Alex and I had drawn Timonenko, and a tired spy was a shitty spy.

Alex took my hand in his as we walked to the guest house, as had become his habit.One I quite liked.I’d never be the type of woman toneeda man, but sometimes in the past, it had been nice to share parts of my life with Rad.To feel as if I wasn’t quite so alone.And at least with Alex, unlike in Baldwin’s Shore, I could be my true self.He hadn’t run screaming yet, which I had to take as a good sign.

In his other hand, he held our gifts from Bradley.Socks for Alex and a box of hot chocolate bombs for me, round spheres of chocolate filled with marshmallows, which made me smile because bombs hadn’t been spherical since the eighteenth century.Unless of course you counted the time I’d packed plastic explosive into a target’s antique globe and detonated it as he relaxed with a snifter of brandy.

“You want one of these chocolate things tonight?”Alex asked.

“We need to sleep.”

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