The Double

I limped up to our room, grabbed my phone, and then crept down the stairs to the basement, wincing with each step. The skirt of my dress was so wide, it almost touched the wall on both sides. How the hell am I supposed to creep around in this?

I made it to the garage before anyone else and quickly looked around. Fortunately, I’d had a lot of practice when it comes to hiding. A broken light had left a patch of deep shadow right at the back of the garage and I hunkered down there, peeking out around one of the big SUVs.

Grigory arrived first, a thick envelope in his hand that must have been packed with cash. A moment later, the man with the beard showed up, carrying some sort of suitcase. “I hope Konstantin knows what he’s doing,” he muttered as he handed it to Grigory. “Using this thing will bring a lot of attention.”

Grigory looked suddenly grim. “He knows what he’s doing.” He handed the man the money and carried the case around to the back of a black Mercedes. He was going to load it into a car and deliver it right now! This was my only chance to find out what it was.

Trying to move silently, I pressed my back against the side of the SUV and shuffled sideways along its length, keeping it between me and Grigory. He was muttering to himself, moving things around in the Mercedes’ trunk to make room for the case.

I reached the SUV’s front fender, less than six feet from where Grigory stood. As he put the case in the trunk, his back to me, I craned my head out from behind the car and lifted my phone. Then, just as he swung the trunk closed, I took a photo.

My phone camera clicked, the trunk slammed and I dropped back behind the SUV, all at the same time. I heard Grigory whip around—he’d heard something. I sat there with my back pressed against the cold metal, heart hammering, trying not to breathe.

On the screen was the photo I’d taken, the suitcase clearly visible. It was one of those toughened flight cases with a vaguely military look. There was a number on the side that meant nothing to me, but maybe Calahan could decode it. I quickly sent him the photo: if Grigory caught me, at least all this wouldn’t have been in vain. But the email just sat in my outbox. Shit! There was no signal because we were underground.

I heard Grigory take a step towards the SUV. I imagined his eyes searching the silent garage. I was paranoid that my phone was going to ring and give me away, so I powered it off.

Over a minute went by. Then I heard Grigory curse in Russian, climb into the Mercedes and speed off. I slumped against the SUV, panting. Then I levered myself up and began the long walk back up the stairs to the ball. Before, I’d been running on adrenaline but now I felt every hard, concrete stair under my soles, every jolt as my heel came down, and the shoes bit into my skin. By the time I reached the ballroom, I was a wreck. But I pasted a smile on my face, opened the door and slipped inside.

I walked the length of the room looking for Konstantin. Maybe he’s still playing poker. It was only when I reached the far end that I felt a warm hand on my bare shoulder and spun around. That was a mistake: my right shoe dug into the side of my foot in a particularly vicious way and I staggered sideways.

Konstantin grabbed me under the arms, taking my weight like it was nothing. “What is it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.” But as I tried to straighten up, a bolt of pain shot up my leg and I couldn’t disguise my wince.

Konstantin looked down at my feet, then frowned at me. “Why didn’t you say something?” He shook his head. “We’re leaving. I’ll take you upstairs.”

“You can’t leave!” I said, horrified. “It’s your party!”

“If it’s my party,” he said firmly, “then I can do what I like.”

And he hooked one arm under my back and the other arm behind my knees and suddenly I was scooped up in his arms, my huge skirt flowing down over his forearm, and he was carrying me through the room. Everyone turned to look and I would have curled up and died from embarrassment but—

But nobody else mattered because I was looking up into his eyes. And the deep concern I saw there, the tenderness, took my breath away. It was even more overwhelming because of who he was, because I knew it was coming through all those layers of coldness.

He carried me all the way up to our bedroom and kicked the door shut behind us. Then he dropped me gently onto the bed. Christina probably would have found a way to land gracefully, but I just sort of sprawled, arms and legs everywhere, and then I reached down and pried off my shoes. The relief was almost spiritual. I lay back with a contented groan.