There was another video file that had been flagged, this one of Room 57, and Igor opened it.

They were in the American’s room now. A few hours had passed. Tatyana had recovered somewhat from her ordeal. She was dressed and was making tea. The American’s gunshot wound had been tended to and he was sitting in a chair watching Tatyana.

“Thank you,” he said to her when she handed him the tea.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice weak.

“You’re Russian?” he said.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing in Damascus?”

She looked at him for a minute, then said, “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to lie to you.”

He nodded and they sipped their tea.

“That man was a Syrian military commander,” the American said.

Tatyana said nothing.

Then he said, “Don’t you work with any support?”

“What do you mean?”

“The team that sent you in. Weren’t they watching? Making sure something like this didn’t happen?”

“What team?”

“The GRU team.”

“How do you know I’m GRU?”

“Call it a hunch.”

The American had finished his tea and Tatyana poured him some more.

“How’s the wound?” she said.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“You’re angry.”

“They send you in alone, don’t they?”

Tatyana nodded.

He shook his head.

“What do they do when something like this happens?”

“Things like this don’t happen.”

Lance laughed.

“Is that what they told you at the academy?”

Tatyana started crying.

“This was my first operation,” she said.

“Well, no offense, but I think you might want to consider a career change.”

“Never.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I don’t do this, I’ll never get my freedom.”

Lance looked at her a moment, then he got up and went to his bag and took something from it.

“What’s that?” Tatyana said when he came back.

“They didn’t give you a gun, did they?”

“A gun wouldn’t have helped me tonight.”

He handed her a handgun. Igor saw it was the old Browning Tatyana brought with her on every mission. It was against regulations, a gun was a potential giveaway, but Igor hadn’t challenged her on it.

“Never go on another job without this,” the American said. “It will save your life one day.”

She looked at him.

“Why are you helping me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to come into that room. You got shot over it. Now you’re giving me your gun.”

“I’m American,” he said. “I’ve got more guns.”

She sat on the bed. “What are we going to do about the body?”

“Leave the body to me. I’ll get rid of it.”

“Thank you.”

“And don’t tell your handler anything about this. Just talking to someone like me would put you on a watch list.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask.”

“All right, I won’t.”