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Chapters (86)
  1. Foreword
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
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  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
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  78. 77
  79. 78
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  81. 80
  82. 81
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  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. Afterword

“Well, they might as well keep waiting.”

“No, I mean the message we got. This mailbox.”

“What about it?”

“That’s the thing. They’re never going to come.”

“Then why give it to us?”

“I’m right outside. It’s a tiny store. There’s no way of accessing it without being seen.”

“Right.”

“It’s a hole in a wall, boss. Someone’s got to stick their hand through first.”

“And hope the person on the other side doesn’t cut it off?” Roth said.

“Exactly.”

“So you’re saying they’re not going to stick their hand through first.”

“Would you?”

23

Being an agent of the Main Directorate came with perks. They might not have compensated entirely for the downside, but Tatyana knew enough about life to enjoy them while they lasted.

A first class transatlantic flight.

A fully-reclinable bed.

A flute of champagne on landing.

She took it all, and would have taken more if it was offered. As far as she was concerned, she’d earned it.

The Russian government had taken everything from her, and she was under no illusions they’d eventually come for her life too.

She wasn’t bitter about it.

As a young, single woman in Moscow, she was fucked anyway.

Her allegiance was to herself.

“Lie to them,” her grandmother told her. “Lie to your husband, to your boss, to the government. All of them. But never lie to yourself.”

Tatyana took the lesson to heart.

And whatever she did for the GRU, regardless of what she thought of it, regardless of whether she found it palatable or not, she never lied to herself. She never once told herself she was doing it for her country.

Another thing her grandmother told her was that she could do anything, anything at all, so long as she didn’t work for free.

And working for the GRU paid. You just had to know how to work it. Like so many things in life, it could screw you, but also get you off. It kept her in the things she’d grown accustomed to, things she valued not for what they were, but for what they stood for. And what they stood for was that she’d beaten the odds.

She wore Chanel, Dior, Prada, Hermes. When she got off the plane she was in Saint Laurent ankle boots and a matching alligator skin purse. She was a classics girl. She didn’t go in for the brashness of Gucci or the flamboyance of Louis Vuitton.

If it meant she had to sleep with the occasional diplomat, or shoot a politician, or strangle someone with a length of wire, she’d learned long ago that she could stomach that.

They paid, so she worked.

At least she had a modicum of control over her life. It was a life of her own making. She’d taken each step that led to where she was. She’d brought herself to this place.