The Double

I took a sip. God, it was disgusting, thick and gloopy and I could taste broccoli and fish oil and something bitter and pungent that could have been Brussel sprouts. I looked up at the waiter. “It’s perfect, thank you,” I managed.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” muttered Konstantin from behind his paper.

I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible so I gulped it down and was finished long before him. I climbed the stairs towards our bedroom, full of vitamins, but in desperate need of something to wash the taste away.

But on the second floor, I stopped. Konstantin’s study was right there. I bit my lip. I still had a mission. And I knew he’d be safely downstairs for at least a few minutes.

I sneaked inside. The room must have been a bedroom originally because a door led off it to a small bathroom. The map on the wall was of New York, with neighborhoods color-coded to show who controlled them. Right in the middle of Konstantin’s territory were three red spots, like drops of blood, showing where Ralavich had set fires the night before. I frowned at them. Why had Ralavich done it? He couldn’t possibly hope to take over those neighborhoods, let alone hold them: Konstantin was far too powerful. So what did Ralavich hope to gain by scaring the people who lived there?

I searched the drawers of Konstantin’s desk, but they were empty and the desk itself was clear. He must lock everything in the safe every night.

I crept over and took a look at it. The thing was ancient—why were so many things in the house so old? But it was still sturdy enough: there was no way of getting it open without the combination. I had my phone in the pocket of my robe so I snapped a quick photo of the door and sent it to Calahan: maybe he could help.

Then I heard the stairs creak. Shit! I raced out onto the landing and turned towards the next flight of stairs...but it was too late. Konstantin rounded the corner and saw me.

His mood changed in a heartbeat. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

I took a faltering step back. “Nothing! Going upstairs!”

He stalked over to me and frowned suspiciously at the door to his study. “Were you in there?”

I backed up again. “No! Of course not!”

He took a step towards me. I shrank back against what I thought was the wall. But my ass hit something smooth and polished and when I put my hand behind me to steady myself, it hit only air. I screamed and flailed as I tipped over the banister—

He grabbed the front of my robe and jerked me forward to safety. I slammed into his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel my heart pounding at how close I’d come...and I could feel his heart hammering as well, at the shock of nearly losing me.

When he gently pushed me back, all the anger had gone out of him. He didn’t say sorry, but I could see the guilt on his face. His eyes had a protective gleam that made me go weak inside and he gripped my wrists like he didn’t ever want to let me go. “Don’t go in my study,” he said gently. “Okay?”

I nodded quickly, too awash with adrenaline to speak.

He disappeared into his study and closed the door and I climbed the stairs to our bedroom on shaking legs. If he’d finished breakfast a few seconds earlier... if he’d seen me taking a photo of the safe….

In the bedroom, I drank a tall glass of water and leaned against the wall while I tried to slow my breathing.

“You okay?” said Calahan’s voice in my ear.

I sat down heavily at the dressing table, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Yes,” I lied.

What I didn’t want to say was, in that moment when he’d nearly caught me, I hadn’t just been scared. I’d felt...bad. Just for a fleeting second, I’d felt disloyal for betraying him.

“Tell me about Ralavich,” I said. I started to do my make-up as we talked.

“He’s very. Bad. News. Lots of drugs. Some guns. But his specialty is brothels in St. Petersburg that...they aren’t normal brothels. The women are all trafficked and the men, they pay to….” Calahan’s seen a lot of evil, in his time. I knew this must be something awful, for it to be so difficult for him to say. “They call them rape clubs,” he managed at last, his voice shaking with anger and disgust.

“And now he’s trying to expand into America,” I said, my voice tight. “He wants to bring that here. But how could he possibly hope to take on Konstantin?”

Carrie came on the line. “Hailey, the mission is Konstantin.”