When Halston had taken the assignment, she’d helped create her CIA legend. When asked what she wanted her last name to be, she’d selected Kotov—cat in Russian.
She loved cats. As a child, her family had owned two at two different times, and she grew to respect them. They were independent, sneaky, lovable. Some were destructive, using any and all furniture as their personal scratching posts. Others were plain insane. But they were all loving in their own unique ways. Their first cat slept on Halston’s pillow, snuggled around her head like a hat. After that cat passed, the second would take up residence on her desk while she did her homework. He’d climb across the keyboard, sit in the middle of it, and stare at her.
Halston walked over to the driver. “I’m Minka.”
“Zdravstvuyte, gospozha Kotov. My ostanovimsya u zony vydachi bagazha.”Hello, Ms. Kotov. We’ll stop at baggage claim.
“English?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Ambassador Bulgrov said I must speak English, for practice.”
He gave her a tight nod.
“This is my bag.”
His eyebrows jutted up. “Just this?”
“Yes.”
He took it from her, led her through the expansive airport. Outside, the cold air smacked her cheeks. She breathed deep.
I’m home.
Excitement sent adrenaline charging through her. She wanted to run through the parking lot screaming, “I’m home, I’m home!”
Instead, she followed him in silence to the sedan. He set her bag in the trunk, opened the back door. In she went. Grateful hedidn’t make small talk, she soaked up the sights at they slogged through rush-hour traffic toward the nation’s capital.
An hour later, the driver stopped in front of the Russian Embassy in northwest DC. After retrieving her bag, he drove away. She paused to take in the massive compound. An eight-story office building straight ahead, a second smaller one to her left. On the right were a cluster of taller buildings, perhaps apartments.
Okay, Minka, we got this.
She flashed her Federation government ID at the security guard and into the main building she went. Since the woman at reception was on the phone, Halston hung back. She ended the call, motioned for her.
“Minka Kotov. I’m Ambassador Bulgrov’s?—”
The woman offered a pleasant smile “How was flight?”
“Good, thank you.”
“I call Natasha.” She gestured to the waiting area. “Please be comfortable.”
Halston set her bag on the sofa, glanced around the large lobby. To call the space ornate and ostentatious was an understatement. The east wall was adorned with a large portrait of the Russian President and his cabinet. On the opposite wall hung a portrait of the outgoing Ambassador. Various paintings of the mother country filled any bare spots. Gold vases and urns rich with Russian history adorned the tables. Six steps led to the first floor, their walls decorated with more art. A row of massive chandeliers lit up the double-wide hallway with offices on both sides as far as Halston could see.
A few minutes later, a short, thick woman in her late thirties charged into the lobby, her gaze narrowing in on Halston. Dressed in a brown suit with brown heels, she offered no smile.
Halston offered a tight smile. “Minka Kotov.”
“Dobro pozhalovat'.”Welcome. “Natasha, Social Director. We speak English… unless we bar hop and get shit-faced drunk. Then, Russian.” Her throaty laugh echoed in the spacious lobby. With a vice grip, the stocky woman pumped Halston’s hand hard, then fixed her fists on her hips.
“Embassy would come to stop without me.,” Natasha said. “No time for tour. I take you to office.”
Natasha marched up the six steps to the first floor and charged down the wide corridor. The pristine marble was covered by a floor piece that resembled a richly-designed tapestry. Elaborate wall sconces flanked each office doorway, the soft light a soothing sight.
Natasha slowed to text, muttering to herself in Russian. Following close behind, Halston peered into open doorways. Most employees were gone for the day, their offices dark. The social director came to an abrupt stop outside an office, stepped inside, and flipped on the light.
“Your office,” Natasha said before moving aside.
