It meant getting information out of the targets. Information that could advance Igor’s career, or give him an edge over his adversaries. And all the while, she had to make him feel she was grateful to him. Grateful for the privilege of having a job, for getting to wear nice things, for flying first class. Grateful like the money was his, like it came from his wallet personally.

In that sense, every widow was a double agent before she ever left the training facility. She learned to play both sides from day one. She knew instinctively what men like Igor took years to figure out.

That there was no difference between a Russian cock and an American one.

“Everyone’s a whore,” her grandmother told her on her sixteenth birthday. “The only thing you decide is what part of yourself you sell. Your brain. Your hands. Your pussy.”

There was never any doubt which paid best.

“There’s been a change of plan,” Igor said.

“Oh?”

“You’ve got a new target.”

“I see.”

“Someone more valuable.”

“You’re sending me files?”

“Agniya’s preparing them now.”

Tatyana took a deep breath. She told herself this was nothing unusual. It made sense. She’d manipulated Igor into sending her after a second-rate target. It wasn’t surprising someone up the chain had decided to switch it out for someone better.

“Is everything all right, Igor?” she said.

There was the slightest hesitation from Igor, and then, “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, it’s just, this new target. I haven’t had time to vet him personally.”

“Well,” she said, “if he’s coming from upstairs, I’m sure they’ve done their diligence.”

“You’ll have to be careful.”

“I always am,” she said.

She waited for him to say more but he was uncharacteristically reticent. Something was distracting him.

“Are you sure everything’s okay, Igor?” she said. It was the second time she’d asked.

“It’s okay. Just … you know.”

“Upstairs?” she said.

“Just keep your wits about you.”

“I will.”

“I know I can count on you, Tatiusha,” he said, using the diminutive of her name. It showed affection. He’d never called her that before.

Then the line went dead. Tatyana looked at the phone to see if there was a problem with the call.

“Everything all right?” the sales assistant said.

Tatyana nodded absently. “Just,” she said, thinking. “Just work.”

“Do you still want to see the dress?”

“Pack it up for me.”

“You’ll take it?”

“Of course.”

“It’s four thousand dollars.”

“Fine,” Tatyana said.

She paid for the dress and went back out to the lobby. The concierge offered to help with her bag but she brushed past him without speaking. In the elevator she felt nauseous. All the travel was catching up with her. She needed rest.