Which meant he hadn’t noticed before how two at the back were stuck together. Now he pried them apart. And his breath caught when another piece of paper slipped into his hands.

Another photograph. This one he knew—he had a matching one in the missing album. Him and Evgeni, on that one trip to Paris. Standing together, the Eiffel Tower stretching out of the frame behind them. They looked so young. So happy, with their arms slung about each other’s shoulders. Oh, Zhenya . . . I am so sorry. So sorry I failed you.

Hall’s office door opened. Zivon slid the passport back into the case and snapped it closed. The picture he slipped instead into his pocket. It helped, somehow, to feel his brother there.

Hall stepped out with another navy man, who quickly saluted and went on his way. When the admiral’s gaze flicked to Zivon, his brows knit. “Marin. What can I do for you?”

Zivon stood. “Maybe I come in?”

“Of course.”

They entered, the door clicking shut. But though Zivon put his briefcase on a chair, he couldn’t bring himself to sit. “I met Barclay Pearce this morning—much to his surprise.”

Hall halted halfway to his desk and spun on him. “I beg your pardon?”

Zivon kept himself calm. Still. “Have I done something to make you question me, sir?”

The admiral leaned against the edge of his desk. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you have someone following me. Captain Blackwell has suddenly forbidden me from seeing his daughter again. And even at the wedding last night, your gait hitched each time you approached me. All very odd, since nothing I have done has changed.” He unclasped his hands from their habitual resting place behind him, spread them wide, palms up. “I have given you all the information I have. All that I know, even what I cannot prove. What has happened to make you doubt me?”

DID folded his arms over his chest. “I never said I doubted you.”

“You did, Admiral.” But he could see from the look on the man’s face that he wasn’t going to talk about why. Not with him, anyway. He gathered a breath, held it for a long moment. “There was another man following me too. Your Mr. Pearce said he intended to find out who he is, as he is not one of yours. I imagine he will report to you. I would greatly appreciate it if I could be informed as well. If it is the Bolsheviks . . .”

That, at least, brought him bolt upright. “Someone else?”

“Someone who had, I think, not much practice at tailing people.” Though Zivon wanted to raise his chin, he lowered it instead. “What would you have me do, sir? Work as usual? Or has your faith in me shrunk such that I am not trusted to do that?”