Page 246 of Filthy Feck


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My cell buzzed as he guided D where she was most comfortable—surrounded by submachine guns.

Unknown:How goes the search?

My brows lifted at the uncanny timing of, well, it had to be Kuznetsov, didn’t it?

Was the timing too uncanny though?

I peered around, wondering if he was spying on us, but like Conor had said, I’d trouble-shooted his network security before I’d taken off. His code wasn’t just perfect; it was crazy beautiful in its complexity.

Me: Kuznetsov?

Unknown: Yes. You know my name. You use it.

Me: Do you know someone called Belyaev?

Unknown: Knew of him. He’s dead now.

Me: I know.

Unknown: Why do you ask?

Me: Do you know WHY he died? Or how?

Unknown: No.

Me: He died on the same day as your son.

Unknown: What?!

Me: Do you know that he was a Sparrow?

I purposely kept that cryptic. Whether or not his son was a Sparrow was something I didn’t feel like dropping over text. Whatever I thought of him, hewasold.

Unknown: I did. He was highly ranked.

Me: One of the highest.

Unknown: Was his death related to Aleks’?

Me: Yes. We’re still ascertaining how.

Unknown: Belyaev was feeding us intel.

Me: On?

Unknown: Art trafficking from looting during Operation: Enduring Freedom.

Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

Unknown: For obvious reasons.

My breath hitched.

Me: Me?

Unknown: Yes. That was why you were swallowed up by their trafficking operation, no?

Well, that and the double agent in our ranks, but I wasn’t about to share anything of that nature with him.

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