Hidden Prey

then . . .” Just before he hung up, Lucas could hear the canned jazz playing behind him, the same music that had been playing behind Nadya. Then the phone clicked out and he said, “Ah, man . . .”
    “What?” Nadya asked. She looked freshly showered and wide-awake.
    “Nothing,” he said.
     
    H E SHOWED HER the diagram, and she brought up a file of names and ranks. “Okay, here is trouble,” she said. “We have more people on the ship than we have boxes.”
    “How about officers?”
    “We have more boxes than we have officers.” She tapped the screen. “Besides, this chart, there are four leaders. On a ship, just one.”
    “What if they were watches, or shifts, or whatever they call them on a boat?”
    She peered at the screen, then said, “This is possible. I would check, but I thought ships had only three shifts, not four. But I don’t know this for sure.”
    “Hmm.”
     
    T HE SHIP DIDN ’ T FIT , at least not all at once. Lucas went back and sprawled on the bed while Nadya looked at the files in the original Russian. When she finished, she said, “There is nothing, unless this is some kind of code. But I think it is what it seems to be. An organizational chart.”
    Lucas said, “How about a genealogy?”
    “What?”
    “You think the chart is a genealogy? A list of ancestors?”
    “Of Oleshevs?”
    “Or maybe the people that Oleshev was trying to contact?” He rolled off the bed and padded over to the desk, bent over her shoulder, and said, “We know Spivak’s family. Do they fit anywhere? Move over.”
    She stood up and Lucas sat in front of the laptop. “Spivak is married and has two children, so . . .”
    Lucas tapped a chart: “If these were his parents, and this is Spivak and this is his wife, and these would be the two kids . . .”
    “And this line . . .” She touched the screen over his shoulder. He could smell the warm water and hormones rolling off her. “This line leads from his wife, if this is the Spivak family, to another family. So who is his wife’s family?”
    “That’s what the FBI is for,” Lucas said. He was interested now: the diagram felt right. If Oleshev had been feeling his way around a group of spies, and he knew only one or two of them . . . he might have something like this as a mnemonic. “And I’ve got a phone number.”
     
    H ARMON CAME UP INSTANTLY , as always.
    “Those files were really interesting,” Lucas said. “We’re running them down now. But we need some information. We need to know Spivak’s wife’s maiden name, and we need to know who the members of her family are. All of them.”
    “And how they relate,” Nadya said from over his shoulder.
    “Yeah. And how they relate.”
    “Who’s there with you?”
    “Nadya.”
    “What’d you get?” Harmon asked. “Did you get something out of the files? What?”
    Lucas told him, and Harmon said he could have the information on Spivak’s wife’s family in an hour.
     
    S O THEY SAT and waited; and Lucas found that he was a little pissed. He was ninety-seven percent sure that Nadya and Reasons had been rolling around in her bed, and though it was none of his business, it seemed to push the investigation off balance. On the other hand, he’d not only slept with witnesses in the past; he’d on occasion been in bed with the principal of an investigation . . .
    He had, he thought reasonably, no stance from which to complain; but it still pissed him off. Maybe because he was married now, and the opportunities were suddenly out of reach? Would he have been sniffing after Nadya if he’d been free?
    He considered her, sitting on the single easy chair, reading a copy of Golf & Travel. She was attractive, she was his age, she smelled good, she was safe and from out of town . . .
    “Silly fuckers,” he mumbled at the ceiling over the bed.
    “What?” Nadya asked.
    “Nothing. Thinking.”
    “I am surprised you have such a small room,” she said, tossing the magazine back on the coffee table. “They didn’t have a suite when you arrived?”
    “Didn’t ask. Never thought about it,” Lucas said.
    “You never heard of the Internet hotel sites?”
     
    S HE STARTED RAMBLING on about Price.com and the deal she got while she was still in Moscow, and for a few seconds Lucas thought he was losing his mind. Then the phone rang, and Harmon said, “I’ve got news.” For the first time, he sounded as if he might be interested in what was going