“A few,” I admit.
“Which ones?”
I point to three hand signals, and Pavel makes notes beside each one.
“Those are FSB operational signals,” he tells me. “Used for covert communication between agents in the field.”
“FSB?”
“Russian Federal Security Service. Domestic intelligence and counterintelligence operations.”
My world tilts sideways, and I force out a breathy laugh. “This is impossible.”
Pavel reaches into his briefcase again and pulls out what appears to be a standard smartphone. But when he activates the screen, it displays a complex interface.
“Final test,” he says. “I’m going to show you an operational interface. Tell me if you understand what you’re looking at.”
The screen fills with tactical data: coordinates, target profiles, and mission parameters laid out in a format that should be foreign to me. Instead, I find myself processing the data like I’ve seen it thousands of times.
“Elimination mission,” I blurt. “Primary target’s a financial crimes investigator. Backup plan: Take the family. Extraction at 0300, waterfront.”
Silence. They stare at me like I’ve just confessed to murder.
“How did you know that?” Pavel asks.
“I don’t know. I just… understood what I was looking at.”
“That interface is used exclusively by FSB operational?—”
Dmitri stands abruptly, pulling me with him. “That’s enough testing for today.”
“Mr. Kozlov, we haven’t finished the assessment. These results are crucial for determining?—”
“She’ll finish the forms when she’s ready,” Dmitri’s voice is cold enough to bite. “Now leave.”
“Mr. Kozlov, you’re making a mistake. If your wife is what I think she is?—”
“She’s exactly what I know she is.” The temperature in Dmitri’s voice drops by several degrees when he adds, “My wife. Nothing else matters.”
Pavel gathers his materials with obvious reluctance. “Mrs. Kozlov, please complete the assessment forms I’ve given you. Review them carefully and honestly. Your safety might depend on understanding what you’re capable of.”
“She’ll review them when she’s ready,” Dmitri says before I can respond.
Pavel heads toward his car without another word, but I catch him glancing back at me once before he climbs inside.
“What was that about?” I ask once his sedan disappears from view.
“Overzealous consultant overstepping his boundaries.”
“He seemed genuinely concerned about my safety.”
Dmitri turns to face me, framing my face with his hands. “You know who you are, Katya. Don’t let some stranger convince you otherwise.”
But watching his face when Pavel challenged him, I realize there’s more to this confrontation than professional disagreement.
Dmitri isn’t just protecting me from Pavel’s theories.
He’s protecting something else, and I need to find out what the hell that is.
