The English Girl: A Novel

murdered an innocent young woman for the sake of Volgatek’s bottom line. He’s also going to explain how Volgatek is nothing more than a front for the KGB. And then I’m going to burn them to a crisp, Uzi. I’m going to prove to the civilized world once and for all that the current crowd sitting in the Kremlin isn’t much better than the one that came before them.”
    “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Gabriel. The civilized world already knows, and it couldn’t care less. In fact, it’s so broke and frightened about the future that it’s about to allow the mullahs to realize their nuclear dreams.”
    Gabriel said nothing. Navot exhaled heavily in capitulation.
    “A confession? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “On camera,” added Gabriel. “Just like the one he forced Madeline to make before he killed her.”
    “And what if he doesn’t talk?”
    “Everyone talks, Uzi.”
    “What are you going to do about Keller?”
    “He’s coming with me.”
    “He’s a professional assassin who once tried to kill you.”
    “We’ve let bygones be bygones. Besides,” Gabriel added, “I’m going to need a bit of extra muscle.”
    “What else do you need?”
    “Passports, visas, travel, accommodations—the usual, Uzi. And I also need Moscow Station to put Pavel Zhirov under immediate full-time surveillance.”
    “Is that all?”
    “No,” said Gabriel. “I need you, too.”
    Navot was silent.
    “I didn’t ask for this, Uzi.”
    “I know,” Navot replied. “But that still doesn’t make it any easier.”
    I t was nearly midnight by the time Gabriel returned to the Grayswood safe house. Entering the room he shared with Chiara, he found her seated upright in bed, with a cup of herbal tea on the bedside table and a stack of glossy magazines on her lap. Her hair was arranged into a careless bun with many stray tendrils, and she was wearing the stylish new glasses she required for reading. Chiara was self-conscious about the glasses, but Gabriel took secret pleasure in the slight weakening of her vision. It gave him hope that perhaps one day she might look less like his daughter and more like his wife.
    “How did it go?” she asked without looking up.
    “With rest and proper rehabilitation, there’s a chance I might regain partial use of my left hand.”
    “That bad?”
    “He’s angry. And I don’t blame him.”
    Gabriel removed his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. Chiara rolled her eyes in disapproval. Then she licked the tip of her finger and turned the page of the magazine.
    “He’ll get over it,” she said.
    “It’s not the sort of thing that one gets over, Chiara. And it would have never happened if you and Shamron hadn’t conspired behind my back.”
    “It wasn’t like that, darling.”
    “How was it exactly?”
    “Shamron came to see me when you were in France looking for Madeline. He said he wanted to put the screws to you one last time about becoming chief, and he wanted my blessing.”
    “It was nice of him to ask.”
    “Don’t be angry, Gabriel. It’s what he wants.” She paused, then added, “And it’s what I want, too.”
    “You?” asked Gabriel, surprised. “Do you realize what it’s going to be like after I take my oath?”
    “We’re sharing a room in a safe house with eight other people, including a man who once tried to kill you. I think I can handle your being chief.”
    Gabriel walked over to the bed and leafed through the stack of magazines lying next to Chiara. One was devoted to women who were pregnant. He held it up for her to see and asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
    She snatched the magazine from his grasp without responding. Gabriel scrutinized her for a moment with his head tilted to one side and his hand resting against his chin.
    “Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
    “Like what?”
    “Like I’m a painting.”
    “I can’t help it.”
    She smiled. Then she asked, “What are you thinking?”
    “I’m thinking that I wish we were alone instead of in a safe house surrounded by eight other people.”
    “Including a man who once tried to kill you,” she added. “But what are you really thinking?”
    “I’m wondering why you haven’t asked me not to go to Moscow.”
    “So am I.”
    “Why haven’t you?”
    “Because they locked her in a car and burned her to death.”
    “No other reason?”
    “None,” she replied. “And if you’re wondering whether I want to go to Moscow with the rest