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* * *
Five days later, Aleksandrov Vishenko’s chief brigadier charged into Vishenko’s office and wasted no time. “She has been located, Pakhan.” He didn’t have to specify a name.
Vishenko rose to his feet. “Where?” he demanded.
“After she was spotted in Denver by the man who missed taking her out”—a man whose failure to kill Caterina Mateja had been a fatal mistake—“we concentrated our search efforts there. We have just learned a woman resembling her was arrested by immigration agents a week ago and taken to a detention facility outside Denver.”
“A detention facility?” Vishenko frowned. “Can you get a man inside?”
“That will not be necessary.” The brigadier’s smile was cold and confident. “We merely need to spread the word that the man who kills her will be deported with a fortune. There will be no shortage of volunteers.”
* * *
Alec put down the report he was reading, sat back in the chair in his office at the embassy and sighed. Damn it, he told himself. We’re no closer than we were last week.
That wasn’t strictly true. McKinnon had turned over the witness statements to Nick D’Arcy’s contact at the DOJ, and they now had search warrants and wiretap warrants on the seven former and current embassy employees. Wiretaps were already being installed. And McKinnon’s interview with the three other Zakharians in custody had also borne fruit. Based on McKinnon’s sworn statement as to what the three had said when they thought McKinnon didn’t understand Zakharan, they were also able to obtain limited warrants on Vishenko in addition to the wiretap warrant the FBI already had.
But that was all McKinnon’s doing. Alec had accomplished exactly nothing. He’d faithfully turned over Angelina’s detailed report on her cousin to his sister the very next day. But so far Keira hadn’t been able to come up with anything based on it. He’d known up front it had been a long shot, but...
Alec ran a hand over his face and realized he was tired. Very tired. It was late—he should have left the office hours ago. He was pushing himself too hard. He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop. If he wasn’t careful, he’d miss something because he wasn’t at his best. But he wanted to get this case solved. Needed to get it solved so he could get on with the rest of his life.
Things were far from settled in his personal life. From everything Angelina had said, she wasn’t envisioning leaving Zakhar. Yes, she would transition jobs when and if she got pregnant—as she’d already planned to give up her position when she could no longer function at the peak proficiency she demanded of herself—but her license to practice law was here in Zakhar. Her current job as a bodyguard on the queen’s security detail and her fallback job as an attorney both required she stay in Zakhar.
She’d already met him more than halfway. Now it was his turn. He couldn’t ask her to follow him from place to place, from job posting to job posting. He couldn’t ask her to give up everything—family, friends, home, job. And country. No, he told himself with clear-cut determination. Time for you to step up to the plate, Jones. Time for you to give up something for her.
He knew what he had to do. If he left the DSS, they couldn’t transfer him away from Zakhar. Angelina wouldn’t need to sacrifice her career for him—he could sacrifice his career for her instead. Which meant he needed to start looking for another job. Security, maybe? A lot of US companies had offices here. Maybe security was a possibility.
He wasn’t going to ask Angelina to marry him until he could support a family. Old-fashioned? Yeah, but he couldn’t change everything about himself overnight. He’d wait to ask her until he had his new job all lined up. Until he could promise her they’d never have to leave Zakhar because of him.
But he couldn’t start looking for another job until he could resign from the DSS without destroying his conscience. And that meant he had to close the trafficking case and bring everyone involved to justice. Because he’d never given up on anything. Ever. And he couldn’t do it now—not even for Angelina.
A few months back, he’d wondered if he’d ever meet a woman who understood what it was like to kill in the line of duty. Who understood that a man could regret the necessity of killing, while not regretting the killing itself, and that his motivation wasn’t money or power or greed, but rather the desire to make a difference and make the world a safer place.
Edward Everett Hale had said it best. I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.
