Babayaga

superiors?”
    “He works for your friend Brandon.”
    Will scratched his head, a little befuddled. “Really? Him too?”
    “It’s a small town for ex-pats and the agency is thinly staffed these days, so Brandon’s working as the case officer for both the cultural and industrial sides of intelligence here, which includes Jake and you, and me too, technically. So, let’s see if we can’t get someone to help put two and two together for us. There’s a phone booth on the corner, I’ll be right back.” He popped out of the car and disappeared down the street. Will sat trying to think through what he had just been told, but Oliver was back before he could come to any conclusions.
    “That was fast,” said Will.
    Oliver started up the car. “Yes, I was lucky to catch Brandon at his desk, though he was a bit tight-lipped. Didn’t want to talk on the telephone, he said. Suspect he’s nervous about agency wiretaps, or maybe it’s that mole they always fear is listening in, who knows? We made a date to meet up at our old handoff spot tonight, out in the Bois. He also said I should bring you along.”
    “He knows I’m with you?”
    “Well, I didn’t offer it up, but he asked and I didn’t see any point in lying, especially since the last time we saw him I was dragging you out of your office. In any case, sounds like it’s for the best, he said he’s got some good news for you.”
    “Really?” Will was curious. “Wonder what that could be.”
    Oliver lit another cigarette. “Dunno.”
    Will looked at his watch, happy with the feeling that things were beginning to sort themselves out. “Looks like we have a couple of hours, maybe we can meet up with the girls for a drink first?”
    “I’m sure the girls are fine; if we’re lucky they spent the whole day shopping for lingerie at Victorine. We can catch up with them later. I say we get some oysters and wine over at Le Chat Noir, it’s on the way.”
    XVI

    Zoya woke after the sun had set. She pulled herself up in the bed and tried to piece together the last twenty-four hours. What had happened? Why had Elga attacked her? What was the meaning of the disassembled clock? How had she possibly escaped such a perfectly designed attack? She remembered the small girl who had been there, trying to trap her with a spell. The girl’s presence was easily explained: needing to make the killing stick, Elga had found a malleable little urchin and pulled her into the scheme. Zoya realized that this was why she had survived the attack. Elga worked fast, but she was an unreliable and brutal woman who would as easily cut a hungry soldier’s throat as hand him a cold potato—and she was the same with the girls she trained, pulling their hair one day, gently combing it out the next. Zoya knew such inconsistency made for poor training. If it was rushed, the girls would pay the price. Along the way, she had seen Elga try to train a few others, but the old woman’s uneven methods made for shoddy work. There might be some out there still on the road, thought Zoya, but she doubted it. She had seen most of these unlucky students fall before her eyes, either from forgetting precious words or from sticking out too far for suspicious eyes to find.
    Zoya knew she had been on a razor’s edge of losing the skirmish, and if Will had not shown up she doubted she would have lived through it. She still could not believe the sight of his sweet face with its quizzical expression popping in the door at that fortuitous moment. That was too odd a twist of fate; she suspected those ghostly witches were pulling strings again. But to what end? What were they weaving? It did no good to guess. All Zoya did know was that being saved by a man was not an entirely comfortable feeling. Normally it was her task to pull them back from the abyss, confusing the auditors, poisoning the prosecutors, covering her lovers with shades of invisibility as they rode into battle. Men had occasionally tried to aid her as well but they were almost always the worst, appearing later with grim, avaricious smiles that said, “Debts are meant to be paid.” She could not recall ever having been rescued like this by a man before, ever. It annoyed her, for it implied a debt and she did not like owing anyone.
    She had to admit, though, Will was different: he had fallen into the situation unaware, like the rabbit he was, once again hopping blindly into the middle of the hunting party. It was not even clear if he had any