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Uneasily, I asked, “What if the agent who took out Kuznetsov’s son is killed as a result of this conversation?”
Eoghan pursed his lips. “Doubt it would be an issue. Everyone’s expendable.”
Star scoffed. “True dat.”
“I really hate that the government is supposed to be the good guys,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Eoghan took another sip of his drink then, seeming to have come to a decision, sighed. “Okay, the story is that this Kuznetsov was some kind of emissary for Russia. He was driving from Ohio to New York, allegedly, but before he could even leave the state, the brake lines the agent cut failed as planned, but the location of the crash was badly calculated.
“There was a collision but they limped away from it by the skin of their teeth. I’m thinking Kuznetsov thought it was sabotage, so he ordered the driver to put distance between them and the crash site, to reconvene somewhere safer.
“The agent behind the job had to go in and manually end them.”
“Meaning?” Star questioned.
“Chased them down a hill until they’d picked up speed and crashed again. This time, it caused a pile-up. The driver was killed, as was Kuznetsov. His wife was strangled, and the kid ran off into traffic. That’s where her story ends. My division looked for her in the hospitals and in social services, but they didn’t find anyone fitting her name or description.”
“That’s weird,” I pointed out.
Star was frowning. “She must have turned up somewhere.”
“Apparently not. She never showed up in a morgue or with injuries at the local hospitals. CPS never placed her in the system.”
“That makes no sense.”
Eoghan shrugged at Star’s confusion. “I know. But that’s all I was told, and it was a ‘make sure that you don’t let this happen or else’ kind of example.”
“What happened to the agent behind the botched job?”
“I don’t imagine he or she is sipping piña coladas in Cancun, Conor. So I doubt Kuznetsov will get his revenge.”
“You think they’re dead?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Star grimaced. “I can’t imagine Kuznetsov was in the dark about any of this. Why waste our time and resources on finding the agent when we could just be focusing on the girl if he didn’t think the agent was alive?”
“True.” I focused on my brother. “Do you have anything we can use to pin this pile-up down, Eoghan? A date or a place?” I knew we could ask Kuznetsov but, in his letter, he mentioned neither, which kept us pretty much in the dark.
It wasn’t like we had the man on speed dial to pepper him with questions.
“I told you, they wiped the records clean.”
“You can’t bleach a pile-up away. Not a British spy agency in the US, at any rate.”
“Don’t be naive, Conor. My division makes the CIA look like kids playing tag around the globe,” was his flat retort. “If you don’t think they have leverage on key members of staff in the right places who can do as they say, you’re an idiot.”
I grumbled, “Nice.”
“Just telling you to keep your hopes low—”
Star choked out, “Operation: Jorgmundgander.”
Eoghan’s tension was immediate. I cast a glance between them. “I’m assuming this has nothing to do with the MCU?” It was my turn to sound wistful.
“I thought it was an urban legend,” she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes.
Jesus, it was her turn to fan girl.
