“Lemore didn’t say. Carl Emerson did say the names of the seven were known only at the highest levels within the agency.”
“Yes, but let’s not forget that Emerson was a liar,” Alex said. “The agency would need someone in Russia to communicate with the sisters, wouldn’t it?”
“Seems logical.”
Alex sighed and let go of his hand. A breeze blew across the farm, fanning the flames and sending sparks flittering higher into the sky. “I don’t know, Charlie. Maybe I’m just jaded after everything that has happened, but I don’t trust the agency to do right by you. I’m afraid this could be some sort of a trap.”
“After I talked to Lemore at the Island Café, I called an old friend, someone I worked with and trusted in Mexico City. He called a friend still working at Langley, who confirmed Lemore works in Clandestine Services and focuses on Russia and the Eastern European countries, and that he’d been an officer in the same arena. All of which comports with what he told me.”
“That helps, unless this whole thing is a setup and Lemore is as much a pawn as you.”
“For what purpose?”
She shook her head. “I’m being paranoid. But I have the right.”
“Tell me why. Let’s talk it through.”
She sighed. Jenkins could see that something else weighed on her. “Assume this highly placed asset is real, and the Russians have this person in Lefortovo, and the agency here wants him or her back.”
“Okay.”
“What if Russia has already agreed to an exchange? And what if Russia really wants . . .” She turned her gaze to him. “You?”
Jenkins hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Charlie.”
“The Russians could have sent someone here to poison me, like the Russian spies in London. Putin thinks it enhances, not disparages, the FSB’s reputation. They could have arranged a traffic accident, a cardiac episode, a fatal mugging, any number of things they’ve been known to do. They haven’t.”
“Not yet,” she said. “But you took away the best chance Putin had to find the remaining four sisters when you exposed Emerson. And remember, Russia doesn’t know Federov killed Emerson. They think the US did it.”
“If Paulina could be Putin’s best last chance to learn the identities of those remaining,” Jenkins said, “why would he exchange her for me?”
Alex shrugged. “He might already be convinced she can’t identify any of the other sisters and is looking to get something for nothing. I don’t know. I’m not saying this is how it is, Charlie; I’m saying this is how it could be.”
Coyotes barked and yipped, then howled from deep in the forest. The sound had become more rare as Camano Island developed and once-wooded land became cul-de-sacs with houses. The horses snorted, whinnied, and pawed the ground. They feared the coyotes, though they were big enough to stomp them. But that wasn’t Jenkins’s initial thought. What immediately came to mind was that the pack sounded like a woman wailing in pain.
“I can’t leave her in that prison. If it’s her.”
“I know,” Alex said. “But promise me that if it is her, and if you try and fail, that you won’t let that cloud your judgment. That you won’t do something stupid.”
“My judgment isn’t clouded anymore, Alex. You and the kids focused it. If I find Federov and he tells me Paulina is dead, I’ll get out. And if it’s her and I can’t get her out, I won’t do anything stupid.” He took hold of her hand once more. “That’s a promise.”
“When do you meet again with this Matt Lemore?” Alex asked.
“Tomorrow morning, at the diner.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she said. “Have him come to the house for dinner.”
“With the kids here?” he said.
“Exactly.”
7
Saturday evening, at six o’clock sharp, there was a crisp rap of knuckles on the front door, which caused Max to bark, which caused Lizzie to cry, which annoyed CJ, who was trying to watch television, which caused Alex to reprimand their son—which caused Jenkins to liken parenting to dominoes falling into one another. As Alex tended to Lizzie, Jenkins silenced Max and answered the front door. Matt Lemore held a box of ice cream bars and a bouquet of flowers. Except for the casual clothing, he looked like a high school senior picking up his prom date.
“For the kids.” He handed Jenkins the ice cream bars.
“They’ll be delighted,” Jenkins said. “As will my wife. Tulips are one of her favorite flowers.”
Lemore nodded. “The woman at the flower shop in town recommended them.”
Jenkins smiled. “Good intel. I’ve bought a few dozen over the years to dig myself out of some deep graves. Come on in.”
Alex came down the hall as Jenkins shut the door and Lemore stepped inside. A little over five foot ten, she nearly matched Lemore in height. She wore comfortable blue jeans and an old, white V-neck T-shirt. “Mr. Lemore,” she said, extending a hand.
“Matt, please.” He handed her the flowers. “These are for you.”
“You didn’t need to bring anything.”
He chuckled. “My mother would beg to differ.”
“Tulips.” She looked at Jenkins with a raised eyebrow. “My favorite. I’ll put them in water.” She started down the hall to the kitchen. “I hope you like lasagna.”
“I do. Very much,” he said, following her into the kitchen.
Lizzie had fresh tears on her cheeks as her stubby fingers struggled to corral Cheerios and navigate the tiny circles to her mouth. Her other hand bashed the tray with her water bottle. “This is Lizzie,” Alex said. “Do you have children?”
“No. Not yet. My wife and I are expecting.”
“Congratulations,” Alex said. “We’re the poster parents for raising children past your forties.”
“I might actually be a national symbol,” Jenkins said. “Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure, love one.”
Alex led Lemore through the kitchen into the family room. CJ sat on the couch, watching TV. “CJ?” Alex said. “Can you turn off the television and introduce yourself to Mr. Lemore?”
CJ did so. He shook Lemore’s hand as Charlie had taught him, looking him in the eye. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lemore.”
“Nice to meet you, CJ.”
“Do you and my dad work together?”
Lemore looked to Alex, uncertain how to respond. “Maybe,” Alex said. “We’ll see.”
Charlie entered the room carrying three Coronas, each with a wedge of lime in the stem. He handed one to Lemore and one to Alex. “Cheers.” They touched the necks of the bottles.
“Make yourself at home,” Alex said. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
She handed Lemore plates and glasses, and he and CJ set the kitchen table under Lizzie’s watchful gaze. Jenkins knew Alex was more intent on Lemore seeing the full extent of Jenkins’s family responsibilities than on impressing him.
Jenkins sat at the head of the table. Lemore sat to his right, next to CJ. Alex sat at the other end of the table, within reach of Lizzie’s high chair. Jenkins picked up his fork, but Alex said, “Can we say a prayer?”