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Told everything.
And right now what I think about doing that doesn’t matter.
Why?
Epiphany: Because when he made that crack, “The best that me and people like me—and the other three or four honest cops—can do is fuck them up from time to time,” he sounded like the Mexican chapter of Oprichnina International.
That’s the way “the good Russians,” the Christians, have dealt with every vicious bastard from Ivan the Terrible to Vladimir Vladimirovich: They fucked them up from time to time.
She’s decided that Juan Carlos is a kindred soul.
Please, God, let her be right.
“You have the floor, Podpolkovnik Alekseeva,” he said finally.
It took Svetlana about five minutes to tell Juan Carlos everything. At first there was a cynical expression on Pena’s face—“I recognize bullshit when I hear it”—but it changed as she spoke, and when she was finished, he nodded, as if in approval.
“Okay, Red,” he said. “I now believe you were an SVR colonel.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Which leaves us where?” Juan Carlos asked. “What do you want from me?”
“To make up your mind whether you’re going to help us or not,” she said.
“It looks like I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“I hope that’s because you think we’re right,” she said.
“As opposed to what?”
“Knowing your other option is you and your men being found as Carlito’s friend and the DEA agents were found, and having this man Joaquín Archivaldo try to figure out who did it.”
Pena looked between Castillo and Svetlana for a moment.
He said: “And because I’m willing to believe Red is ex-SVR, I guess I’m willing to believe she’s capable of doing exactly that. Where the hell did you find this woman, Carlos?”
“Actually, my brother and I found him,” Svetlana said, matter-of-factly. “It didn’t turn out the way we expected. We planned to eliminate him, and almost did.”
“What happened?”
“God showed us another path,” she said.
“Somehow I don’t think you’re being sarcastic,” Juan Carlos said.
“I’m not.”
“I’ll be damned,” Pena said. “I was beginning to think I was the only Christian left on earth except for the Pope.”
“There’s a few of us Christians left,” she said. “And I’m working on Carlito.”
“Good luck with that,” Pena said. “Which brings us back to my original question: Where are we?”
“As my heathen Carlito would put it, Juan Carlos, are you in or out?”
“You already know the answer to that, don’t you, Colonel?” Pena said.
Svetlana raised her voice and issued an order in Russian. One of the Spetsnaz popped to attention, saluted, and motioned to two of his men, who followed him as he trotted around the side of the house.
