“What do you mean by automatic behaviors?”
“Checking exits when you enter a room. Positioning yourself to observe potential threats. Moving in ways that minimize your visibility to outside observers.”
Every example he gives describes things I’ve done since I woke up in the hospital. Habits I’d written off as survival instincts.
“I check exits,” I admit. “After being kidnapped, who wouldn’t?”
“It is reasonable. But the way you check them isn’t. You evaluate them tactically, like someone trained to plan escape routes under hostile conditions.”
Dmitri’s hand moves from my thigh to my lower back, and he slides his fingers along my spine. I latch onto that contact to ground myself and arch into his touch. The way my body responds to him is the only thing I’m sure of anymore.
“Where are you going with this?” Dmitri asks.
“I’m trying to determine whether Mrs. Kozlov has been exposed to intelligence training. If she has, some people will eventually come looking for her.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Dmitri snorts. “My wife is an art curator, not an operative. The idea that she has intelligence training is absurd.”
“Is it? Her responses suggest otherwise.”
“She’s observant, not trained. Trauma makes people see threats everywhere. That doesn’t make her a spy.”
Pavel eyes Dmitri. “You seem very certain about your wife’s background.”
“Iamcertain. I know who I married.”
“People with intelligence training are taught to maintain convincing cover identities. Even spouses can be deceived.”
“My wife isn’t deceiving anyone,” Dmitri says. “She’s recovering from a head injury that has left her confused and frightened. Your theories about spy training are conspiracy nonsense.”
My throat goes dry. “You think I’m a spy?”
“Pavel,” Dmitri warns, “you’re upsetting my wife with ridiculous theories.”
“Just humor me,” Pavel tells me, and again, something in my body wants to comply. “If Mrs. Kozlov has no intelligence background, the assessment will confirm that and put the matter to rest.”
Dmitri opens his mouth to object again, but I cut him off. “It’s fine. If it will settle this ridiculous theory, I’ll take the test.”
Though even as I say it, part of me wonders if I want to know the results.
The scenarios include things like eliminating a hostile target in a crowded environment, maintaining cover identity under interrogation, and extracting intelligence from unwilling subjects.
“What kind of questions are these?” I draw my eyebrows together.
“They’re assessment tools used to evaluate operational readiness in intelligence personnel.”
“Why would you have assessment tools for intelligence personnel?”
“Let’s just say I have my sources.”
I stare at the assessment form, wanting to fill it out. My body is familiar with these scenarios, even if my brain doesn’tunderstand why. But when I glance over at Dmitri, the obvious discomfort on his face makes me not sure it’s a great idea to keep poking this bear.
Dmitri wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. His breathing has changed, only subtly, but enough to make me take notice.
Why does this line of questioning bother him so much?
Pavel pulls out another form, this one covered with symbols and hand gestures illustrated in detailed diagrams. “Recognition test. Tell me if any of these images seem familiar.”
I look over the page, and several of the symbols make my pulse pick up. Hand positions that look like random gestures but trigger automatic responses in my nervous system.
