Read Someone Else's War: A Novel of Russia and America Page 18

  ***

  If Olivia was surprised to see Lieutenant Colonel Marianenko and Major Suslova at breakfast later that morning, she showed no trace of it. Very politely, he rose and introduced himself. After a second, she realized that she was supposed to offer him her hand and did so. “Good morning, Doctor Tolchinskaya.”

  That elicited a reaction, her pale brows arching upwards. “Tolchin, Lieutenant Colonel.”

  “Actually, your father’s name was Tolchinsky, which he Anglicized. So, Tolchinskaya it is.” He watched her blink, a little startled by his polite brusqueness, before he turned. “Please meet my assistant, Major Suslova.”

  He watched them shake hands, taking each other’s measure, watched Doctor Tolchinskaya’s eyes flicker over Suslova’s muscular figure, not at all deceived by her linen blouse, with its embroidery and cutwork. Olivia’s eyes lingered on Suslova’s cabled forearms beneath the elegant, belled lace cuffs, noting the way the blouse flowed over her pistol in front of her left hip. She took in her hair, cropped so short the natural waves were barely in evidence, a severity that should have been masculine but was in fact elegantly feminine. “My pleasure, Major.”

  “And mine, Doctor.”

  “Please,” Marianenko said, “Sit down.”

  Olivia did as she was told, reached for tea. “Is it usually so hot so early in the year?”

  “The weather seems to be changing. When I was younger, I remember it colder,” Suslova said. “Of course, I grew up mostly in the Baltics and Siberia. A bit further north than here.”

  “I would guess I am about five hundred kilometers from Leningrad.”

  The two officers exchanged a wry look. “Very good. Petersburg, now. You have never been to what is still, after all it has suffered, our Venice. Would you like to go?”

  “Later, perhaps. For now, there is much to be done.”

  “In due time, all will be done, Doctor. In due time,” Marianenko said smoothly.

  “Of course.”

  After breakfast, Olivia followed Marianenko into an office that had been previously locked, trailed by the hard-faced guard who had asked her if she had a man. The room held a desk and three chairs at one end. At the other was a small table with two facing chairs, a laptop and some other office items atop it, and behind it a large opaque window, cut into an interior wall. It was the only thing in the room, in the whole dacha, that seemed out of place. Then she realized what it was and wondered why they hadn’t installed an elegant two-way mirror instead of a police standard-issue one-way window. Perhaps to let the dacha’s visitors know they were being watched. Marianenko pointed to her chair, facing the opaque window. She sat down. He took his place, the window behind him. Feeling suddenly impish, Olivia looked directly into the mirror and smiled. It was, after all, good to be getting started at last. Suslova could not help smiling back, even if the smiles were unprofessional and hers would not be seen. She had already set up her laptop; the link to Marianenko’s was open. It was only necessary to lay her pistol out beside it and check the latch on the window. The latter was easily operated. She chambered a round in the former and settled in.