“With Cougar?” Burt said. “If private contracting exists, then I won’t just be there, I’ll aim to be the biggest. But once the state has a dependency on companies like mine, it will attract every kind of cowboy. The money’s too good.”
Burt sighed and drew on his cigar before turning and asking the senator, “So now, because this threat was artificial, what does the committee think? Does it consequently believe there’s no threat from Russia?”
“That, unfortunately, is the knock-on effect,” the senator replied. “They think that if a threat needed to be created, there can’t be much of a threat in the first place.”
“Just as I feared,” Burt said. He looked at the senator. “Then may Mikhail revive,” he said. “Because Mikhail’s the real thing. He knows.”
The gathering at Burt’s ranch five hours later was the first time Burt had seen Anna since he’d debriefed her in the hospital room. To her surprise, he flung his arms around her, the only time he’d done so since they’d met on the beach in the south of France.
As ever, he took her aside before dinner for a private talk. They went into his study.
“Last fire of the winter,” Burt said as he threw more wood into the blaze. “Even the nights are getting warmer.”
He poured her a glass of wine and a whisky for himself, then sat down on a chair on the opposite side of the fire.
“Cheers,” he said, and they both drank. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Nearly okay,” she said.
“Good.” They were silent for a while. Then he looked at her directly. “I have someone who wants to see you,” he said. “But only if you agree to see him.”
She didn’t reply.
“It’s Logan,” he said. “He has something to say to you. He’s staying in one of my guest houses, but he’s not a guest. Not tonight, in any case.”
Anna put down the glass carefully.
“I didn’t know he’d made it.”
“No. I’ve been keeping it away from you while you recover. But as I told you, he’s one of the best I ever had.”
“What does he want?”
“That, you’ll have to ask him,” Burt said. “But you don’t have to see him at all.”
But she knew she had to see Logan, to settle the matter once and for all. She followed Burt out into the darkness, and he pointed at a light in a cabin beyond the paddock at the back of the house.
“Follow the lights along the path,” Burt said. “They’ll take you there.” He turned to go inside and left her on the path.
Anna walked up the winding path and entered the small cabin without knocking. Logan was standing at the far end of the room, texting on his phone. He looked up in surprise.
“You’ve got some nerve, Logan,” she said. “I could feed you to the rats.”
He put the phone down and walked to the centre of the room, where he stopped.
“Will you listen?” he said. “Will you sit down and listen. Just for a minute.”
She hesitated. Then she moved towards the fireplace and took a chair away from the light.
Logan sat down opposite her, underneath the arc of a lamp so strong it whited out his features. He was the interrogated now.
“You don’t need to tell me why you sold pictures of me and my son to the Russians and everyone else,” she said. “The reason’s clear. It’s the same reason that another man, a Russian, killed Finn. For money, prestige, power. How does it feel to win it that way, Logan?”
“It feels shit,” he said.
“That’s it? You want my forgiveness?”
“Yes. That’s what I most want in the world.”
Anna remained silent and looked at Logan. It was easy to forgive someone for whom you’d lost respect, she thought. It meant nothing.
“So what happened?” she said. “In Russia? I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Logan got up out of his chair and went to the table where he’d been standing when she arrived. He picked up something and returned. Hovering on the edge of the light from the lamp, he threw it gently at her feet.
She saw it was an identity card, on what looked like a gold chain. She picked it up and saw the photo, the name. It was the man Burt had told her about, the member of Russia’s parliament and Finn’s killer.
“He’s dead? You got him?”
“Yes.”
“And this?” She put the card down on the floor again. “Is this a gift for me? Like something the cat brought in.”
“It’s just the evidence. I wanted you to know Finn’s killer is dead.”
“It’s what they do in Russia, Logan. The KGB kills Putin’s enemies on his birthday. It’s not a great tradition.”
“It’s all I had,” he said.
“Well, I don’t need it,” she said, and stood up. “It’s sad, isn’t it. When Finn goes out to get redemption, he dies. When you go, you come back. But it’s true what Burt says about you, Logan. You are very good. I’m impressed by that, at least.”
“I want you, Anna,” he said, looking up at her from the chair. “I want to start again. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”
She looked at him, her face softened, but it was no good.
“Thank you.”
“Is there a chance? Any chance for us?”
“I’m sorry, Logan,” she said. “Maybe in some other life. Just like all the others.”
She stayed on the porch until she saw the taillights of his car disappear across the flat mesa to the south.
Keep reading for
Prologue and Chapter 1
Prologue
AUGUST 1971
LIEUTENANT VALENTIN VIKTOROV WALKED carefully and with evident hesitation through the labyrinth of Aleppo’s covered souk. He might have seemed lost to those moving past him quickly on their errands. But, lost or not, it was clear that he had his mind on things other than his surroundings.
He was a tall man with short-cropped fair hair and an athletic build. His face was so finely shaven, his skin so smooth, that he looked almost too young to be shaving at all. He certainly looked far younger than his twenty-seven years, and gave off an appearance of a young russian army conscript on leave, rather than the seasoned KGB intelligence officer that he was.
Despite the fact that he was not on official assignment this summer morning, he was operating as he always
