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“Which is?”
“Damned if I know.”
“Where are they now? Oliver Davies and Neri Lombardo?”
“Long gone. Checked out of their rooms at the Versailles and disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Probably on their way back to Grand Cayman right now and a club they have there. But Cambodia is a possibility, too.”
“Is someone watching me—other than you?” I asked them.
“Good guys or bad guys?”
“Either.”
“I couldn’t tell you that even if I knew the answer.”
“But you do know the answer.”
“Like I said: watch your back. These are people who don’t give a damn who they kill.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, shocked by her candor. I rested my elbow on the canvas tote beside me and felt the hard metal of the gun against bone.
* * *
As soon as the detectives were gone, I asked Bud McDonald if we could chat. He sat down in the cabana, and I told him everything that Felicia and Patrick had shared with me. I asked him if, based on his experience with the Boston PD, Yevgeny Orlov could have been with the CIA.
“I was a cop, so my experience is pretty limited when it comes to spies,” he said.
“But you think it’s possible?”
“Sure. Want some other options?”
“Yes, please.”
“Maybe he was Russian and FSB, and his job was his cover.”
“I once teased him that he was FSB.”
“And you’re still alive? Rule that one out.”
Through the cabana flap, a plane came into view as it descended in seemingly slow motion toward the airport.
“You ever wonder why some Americans loved Russia—you know, before Putin invaded Ukraine?” he asked, his tone ruminative. “Yeah, a lot of it was dictator worship. But part of it was just golf course foursomes. A lot of Russian American bromances were born on the links and the nineteenth hole. Either way, if Orlov was FSB or CIA, I suspect the FBI is involved. Which brings me to another option: maybe he was FBI.”
“Like undercover?”
“Yup.”
“But it’s also possible that he was just some businessman with GEI, right?”
“Sure. And maybe no one murdered him out at Red Rocks,” Bud said, and he smiled at my naivete. “Look, if he was CIA or FBI, then the cops here know. They just can’t tell you.”
“Where does that put me?” I asked, and my voice sounded peculiar. A little strangled and breathy. I heard the luffing of a sail. “Did Yevgeny…”
“Did Yevgeny sleep with you because he was CIA or FBI or even FSB, and you were an entrée to your sister and Futurium crypto? It’s possible. Or maybe he just had a type.”
