Page 100 of The Shadow Friends

“I have sources too. Ingrid Slocum is an American. She’s not the woman you’ve been sent to kill.”

“Prove it.”

“That’s a little hard to do at the moment,” said Maggie, glancing back toward the support post she was manacled to.

Hannah considered Maggie’s words as she paced to the picture window, then back again.

“Look, I know Ingrid,” said Maggie. “So does half this town. She serves on our library board. She’s American, a retired executive secretary.”

“Details that could be manufactured about anyone.”

“Then why are you even asking about her? It sounds like you’re going to kill her no matter what I say.”

“If this really is a mistake, I want to know how it happened. And why.”

“Oh, dear. Did Moscow screw up and send you after the wrong woman?”

Hannah slammed her fist into Maggie’s cheek. The blow was so sudden that Maggie didn’t have a chance to brace herself. She slumped sideways, groaning in pain. Hannah crouched down in front of her, and when Maggie opened her eyes, their faces were so close their noses almost touched.

“Who is trying to kill me?” said Hannah.

Maggie stared at her, clearly bewildered by the question. “What?”

“The disasters in Amsterdam and Madrid. Those were obviously traps to lure our operatives and eliminate us. Those stupid Vory walked right into it. Hiring them is like sending in a chainsaw when what’s needed is a scalpel.”

“You’re the scalpel, I take it?”

“I don’t make mistakes. I’m in and out. They always assume Vory did it, and I’m happy to let them think so. Because then no one looks at me.” Hannah rose to her feet and started to pace again, in a tight circle. “Now I just want to go home. After all this, I deserve to go home. I was promised a house in the country. A house with a garden, where I can wash away the blood.” She halted and turned to Maggie. “Who’s setting these traps? Who wants me dead?”

“Why are you asking me? I’m just a farmer.”

“Ingrid Slocum is part of this. She’s CIA, isn’t she?”

Maggie stared back, expressionless, her eyes revealing nothing.

“And who are you, really?” Hannah asked. “Surely not just a farmer.”

Again, Maggie’s answer was a blank and silent stare, a response that could only come with training. She, too, must be CIA.

“I think my question has just been answered,” said Hannah.

“If you believe this is a trap, why are you doing this?” asked Maggie. “Why don’t you just walk away and disappear? Go someplace where even your handlers can’t find you?”

“It’s too late for that now.” Hannah turned to the window and stared out at the night, thinking about the impossibility of starting over and rebuilding a life from scratch. She was fifty-two years old, she had no friends she could trust, and the money she’d hoarded for emergencies would last her no longer than a year. Without Moscow’s help, she truly would be on her own. This was the price of living a lie your whole life. Loneliness.

No, her only way forward was to do what her handlers ordered. Only then would they finally bring her home. This, they’d promised, was her final task.

Hannah turned to Maggie. “Tell me the code for your security system.”

“I’m just a farmer. Why would I have—”

Again, Hannah slammed her fist into Maggie’s jaw, and the blow whipped the woman’s head around. Slowly Maggie raised her chin to look at her, blood trickling from her torn lip.

“What if we make a deal?” asked Hannah. “No one ever has to know about it.” She crouched down and stared straight into Maggie’s eyes. “Help me get into your house, and I’ll let you live.”

“Why would I believe you?”

“You don’t have a choice, do you? Isn’t any chance to live better than no chance at all? I don’t really need to kill you. They already know who I am, so your death serves no purpose for me. But if you agree to help me, you gain everything. You live.”