Red Sparrow

“I will be a little bitchy from now on,” she said. “Zlobnyj.”

SHRIMP YIOUVETSI

Sauté onion, red pepper flakes, and garlic, add chopped tomato, oregano, and ouzo, and reduce to thick sauce. Add shrimp, stir in chopped parsley, and cook briefly; transfer to baking dish, top with feta cheese, and bake in medium-high oven until bubbling.

42

The next evening at 1700 hours a bank of fog settled low over the Narva River in an otherwise clear night sky. Thick and ragged as a plug of surgical cotton torn from the box, the fog occasionally licked up over the roadway of the bridge. The lamps along the bridgeway came on and caught the fog, blowing right to left, making it seem as if the bridge itself were moving on casters along the riverbank. Well above the fog bank, the tower of Hermann Castle on the west bank faced the deserted battlements of the Ivangorod Fortress on the east bank.

On the Russian side of the bridge, two light trucks were positioned lengthwise across the roadway. Six border guards in camouflage utility uniforms were slouching around the trucks. Behind them was a small armored personnel carrier, a Tigre, with a light machine gun mounted on a ring turret in the roof. There was no one on the gun, which was locked on its pintles, pointed at the sky. Behind these vehicles, parked along the side of the road that led past the convenience store and administration building, were five cars from Saint Petersburg SVR—two Mercedes and three BMWs. The drivers stood together in the dark talking. The rest of the SVR men had entered the checkpoint tollbooth and were waiting out of sight, following orders to stay discreet. On the sloping riverbank below the bridge two border guards stood completely enveloped in the fog, dripping wet.

On the Estonian side of the bridge Benford sat fifty meters from the bridge inside a van parked in the center of the road. He could look straight down the roadway of the bridge at the parked Russian vehicles. Next to Benford’s van a small KaPo jeep was pulled over on the shoulder. Four black-suited troopers sat in the jeep smoking. KaPo had intended to put two spotters in the bastion of the Hermann Castle tower, but the ministry did not have the budget for nightscopes. The lights on the bridge would have to be enough.

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There was a sound of squeaking brake pads and the crunch of tires on the gravel shoulder, a car coasting to a stop. Benford saw Nate get out of a little green compact, his hair down over his forehead, a ridiculous blue and white—no, it was the Greek flag—on his T-shirt. Benford got out of the van and walked back to the car.

“What are you doing here, Nash?” said Benford in a low, even voice. “And what is that ridiculous shirt you’re wearing? Do you know what is supposed to happen in a half hour? Have the kindness to get into the van and stay out of sight. You need a shower.” Benford steered Nate into the van and slid the door closed. The KaPo troopers in the jeep looked over and wondered what was going on. Benford walked over to them and accepted an offered cigarette. The troopers were respectfully quiet.

Benford could see more activity at the other end of the bridge. The light trucks parked lengthwise across the bridge were separated slightly and the Tigre APC had moved between them. A soldier had unlimbered the gun on the roof. From behind Benford came the sound of another vehicle, and Gable pulled up in a nondescript black sedan. He appeared to be alone in the car. Gable got out and walked toward Benford.

“Tell me what you have done,” said Benford. “Tell me you have her.”

“The Russians tried for her last night in Athens. A rescue team, they called themselves. I have no idea how they tracked us, someone the Russians have at the hotel, the cops, I don’t know. She killed both of them, executed them.” The KaPo troopers had climbed out of their jeep and were standing behind it, looking at the Russian side of the bridge through binoculars.

“She killed them? Where is she right now?” asked Benford. “Do we have someone to swap for MARBLE?”

“She told me no. For six hours it was no. Nothing I could say to change her mind. The next morning I was going to turn her over to Forsyth to fly her to the States, and she was waiting for me by the car. Waxing the two Center goons may have done the trick, I don’t know. She’s seriously furious.” Benford looked as though he was going to pass out. “She’s in the backseat, lying down; she got back there as we entered Narva. I wanted to change the profile.” Benford blew out a stream of smoke. It had been nearly seventy-two hours of not knowing.

“She agreed?” Benford asked.