Hidden Prey

Russian names with relish and a sputtering dampness. “She might be quite . . . immoral, I suppose you’d call it, in your terms. If she thinks you’re getting somewhere, and you’re not keeping her up with it, she might try to initiate a sexual relationship with you. They’re very, very well trained.” Harmon’s thin tongue, looking a little like a Ritz cracker, flicked over his lower lip.
    Lucas nearly laughed, but suppressed the impulse and said, solemnly, “I’ll take care.”
    “So she had nothing else? Nothing relevant, other than the signs?”
    “No, we were mostly setting up a schedule. We’ll show her the files when she’s finished transmitting prints, and gets cleaned up. She’s said she’s jet-lagged and she’s gonna crash pretty early.”
    “All right.” Harmon eased away. “We’ll be in touch.”
    “I just can’t figure out . . .”
    “What?”
    “I can’t figure out why you guys don’t seem to care. I mean . . . people are getting killed.”
    “Honestly? Catching spies for the former Soviet Union is not exactly a good career move anymore. Costs a lot of money, disturbs the relationship, and nobody cares. So, catch a spy, you get an atta-boy and transferred to Boise, where you’ll be less expensive.”
    “That’s really . . . fuckin’ great,” Lucas said.
    “Call me if you need anything,” Harmon said. He turned away. “Anything that we got, that doesn’t cost too much.”
    “Hey,” Lucas called after him. “How was the ‘signs’ thing relevant?”
    “Might mean she’s never been here,” Harmon called back. And “Good report, Davenport.”
     
    L UCAS SLID INTO the booth across from Reasons. Since the hotel was a cylinder, the restaurant, naturally, revolved. When Lucas and Harmon started talking, they were looking at the lake; when they finished, they were looking south, at right angles to the lake. When Lucas joined Reasons, they were looking down at the Civic Center complex, which included the federal building, the county courthouse, and the city hall; the port and the lake were coming up. Lucas settled into the booth and ordered a Diet Coke. “Another spy?” Reasons asked.
    “Yeah, one of ours.”
    “Is ours better than theirs?”
    Lucas waited as the barman put a glass of Coke in front of him, and then said, “I don’t think so. The guy says, ‘She might be immoral, in your terms. She might try to initiate a sexual relationship with you.’ ”
    “Really?” Reasons was impressed. “If she does, will you tell me about it? I mean, the details?”
    “I’m more married than you are,” Lucas said. Imitating Harmon’s voice, Lucas said, “They’re very, very well trained.”
    Reasons laughed merrily. “You’re shitting me.”
    “That’s what the man said.” Lucas shook his head. “He also said, ‘Good report, Davenport.’ ”
    “That rhymes.”
    “Brilliant observation.”
    Reasons said, “If she can’t get to you, maybe she’ll try to fuck me. I’m a good American. If my country calls, I’d have to answer the call.”
    “Just don’t tell her any military secrets,” Lucas said. “Andy Harmon will be all over your ass.”
    “Maybe I couldn’t help myself,” Reasons said, “If she’s that well trained.”
     
    A S THEY LEFT the restaurant, on the way back to Nadya’s room, Lucas excused himself, took his calendar and his cell phone out of his pocket, and looked up a St. Louis phone number. He needed help.
    A man answered on the third ring.
    “How many Italians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” Lucas asked.
    After a moment, the man said, “You sound like a fuckin’ Canadian. Is that you, Davenport?”
    They talked for five minutes. When Lucas hung up, he felt a little like a spy himself.

     5 
    N ADYA WAS LOOKING GOOD .
    She’d changed into a dark blue suit that went well with her blond hair and showed off her figure; she’d added a touch of lipstick and small diamond-chip earrings. Her hair, worn short, and still damp from the shower, looked artlessly windblown. As they got in the elevator to go back down, Reasons muttered to Lucas, “Christ, she wouldn’t even need any training.”
    “What?” She’d heard part of it.
    “How’d the prints go? When will you find out?” Lucas asked.
    She said, “He’s Oleshev,” she said. “The fingerprints, they’ve already checked, there is no doubt. There wasn’t much before.”
    “What does his father do?” Reasons asked. Distracting her