Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Harvath knew two things about Eva Nekrasova. One, she would be traveling with a security detail, and two, she would know how to get rid of them.

After receiving his cryptic text and agreeing to meet, she had given him an address. The moment Harvath arrived, he knew why she had selected it. It was the one place her husband wouldn't want her bodyguards to accompany her.

Secreted away in the Old Town neighborhood of Nice, the address was for a lingerie boutique called Trésor Caché. While Eva shopped inside, her two-man security detail sat on the terrace of the café across the street, keeping an eye on the shop's front door.

With no one watching the back, Harvath had arrived ten minutes early via a small courtyard whose gate had been left unlocked. The owner of the boutique, a friend of Eva's, had shown him to her upstairs office, where she opened a bottle of champagne and set it on the table, along with two glasses and a pack of cigarettes. After searching, she found a lighter and handed it to him.

Politely, Harvath put up his hand and said, "Thank you, but I don't smoke."

"It's not for you," the owner replied, as she turned to go back downstairs. "I'll send Eva up when she gets here."

The room was dimly lit, with a hand-carved wooden desk, low-slung, pillow-strewn couches, and multiple brass lanterns. With its Moroccan mirrors and other Arabesque details, it looked like something straight out of Bousbir, the historic red-light district of Casablanca.

He made himself as comfortable as he could. Despite the dose of ibuprofen Staelin had given him back at the villa, his body was still quite sore. It was going to take time until he was one hundred percent. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on pushing through it.

Moments later, he heard someone on the stairs. Opening his eyes, he stood just as Eva walked in.

The last time he had seen her had been at the Centre Antoine Lacassagne, Nice's premier cancer institute. Since then, her face had been hollowed out and there were dark circles under her eyes. Even though she tried to hide it in a billowy kaftan, she had lost way too much weight.

Nevertheless, there was still an elegance to the way she carried herself. He met her at the door and she kissed him on both cheeks—a greeting as much French as it was Russian.

"I didn't think we'd ever be seeing each other again," she said, holding him out at arm's length and inspecting him. "You look like you've been through it just as bad as I have."

"My work has definitely been on the upswing," he responded with a smile.

He led her to one of the couches and immediately offered assistance when he saw how much pain it caused her to sit.

"I'm all right," she said softly. Then, eyeballing the bottle of champagne, she asked, "How about a drink?"

Harvath didn't have the heart to say no. Filling both glasses, he handed her one and then sat down next to her.

"What should we toast to?" he asked.

"It's very Russian," Eva said, raising her glass and leaning into her Russian accent, "but let's toast to health."

"Perfect," Harvath replied. "To health."

The pair clinked glasses and took a long sip of champagne.

"So," she began, "what's your interest in Inessa Surkova? Please God, tell me it's not romantic."

Harvath laughed. "No. It's definitely not romantic."

"Then it must have to do with that shit, Arkady Tsybulsky."

"I take it you're not a fan?"

"My husband loves him. The rest of us think he's an asshole. His wife, Polina, is even worse."

"I read his file."

"Then you should know you want nothing to do with him. Trust me."

Harvath appreciated the warning. "Where is Polina?" he asked, digging for more details. "Why isn't she here with him?"

"Polina is a Russian nationalist. She believes all Peshkov's lies about Ukraine. She thinks it's unpatriotic to spend money in France while the French are backing the Ukrainians."

"And what do you think?"

Eva pondered her answer for a moment. "I think if she wants to stay behind in Moscow, that's her choice. But choices have consequences."

"Inessa being one of those consequences."

The woman nodded.

"To be honest," Harvath admitted, "I was surprised to learn that you are friends with her. I didn't think you would approve."

"It's not my job to approve. They're adults. They can do what they want. All my husband's friends have mistresses. I don't like it, but it is what it is. At least in the case of Inessa, she makes it a bit easier to be around Arkady. And if you spend the time to get to know her, she's a good person. A bit sad, but good."

"What's sad about her?"

"She's had a rough life. No little girl grows up dreaming of being the plaything of a monster like Arkady Tsybulsky. I'm sure she lays in bed every night wishing he were dead, but knowing that if he died, she'd be out in the cold. Men like him have no honor. I guarantee you he's made no provisions for her. She's disposable. He doesn't care what happens to her after he's gone. I've told her to stockpile as much jewelry as she can get. It's all she can do."

"Does she listen to you?" Harvath asked.

Eva motioned for him to hand her the cigarettes, which he did. There was an ashtray on the end table and he set that near her as well.

She opened the pack, lit one of the cigarettes, and took a deep drag. Exhaling, she remarked, "God that tastes good. Nikolai won't let me smoke. Not since my cancer came back. He's turned the entire staff against me. I have to sneak around like a criminal."

"What do your doctors say?"

"They agree with him, of course."

Harvath smiled. She knew what he meant. Finally, Eva said, "It's more aggressive this time. They say my odds are fifty-fifty. I've already begun treatment again."

"I'm sorry it came back."

"Thank you."

"At least you're in good hands here. The Centre Antoine Lacassagne is an excellent facility."

"Tell that to Nikolai," she replied. "He wants me to go back to Russia with him."

"For treatment?"

"No. Peshkov wants him back. He won't say why. He told Nikolai to bring the whole family. That it was important that we all return. He offered to set me up with my own private medical team."

"All at his compound on the Black Sea?" Harvath asked.

"Yes," said Eva, stunned. "How did you know that?"

"Tsybulsky was asked to go too. He and Inessa are leaving tomorrow."

"Why?"

Harvath shook his head. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm not going. And neither are my children. I don't care what Nikolai does. I've told him that. I'm not leaving my doctors and I'm not pulling the children out of school."

This was the second oligarch that Harvath had learned Peshkov had reached out to. It was alarming. There was something ominous about the man summoning his closest friends and confidants back to Russia. On top of that, he was encouraging them to bring their families. The Russian president had even offered to dedicate a medical team to Eva. Why?

It was a question that would have to wait. Better yet, it was something the CIA could worry about when he sent his next update to Holidae Hayes. Right now, he needed to get to Inessa. And for that, he needed Eva's help. He decided to tell her the truth. Or at least as much of it as he could.

Looking at her, Harvath said, "You asked me why I reached out to you about Inessa Surkova. It's because I need a favor. I need you to put me in touch with her."

"Is that all?" Eva asked, taking another drag on her cigarette. "We didn't need to go through all of this. I could have texted you her phone number."

"It was important that we do this face-to-face."

"Because?"

"Because there's a man from Inessa's past. He says he loves her and he thinks she loves him too."

Eva, a hardened cynic, rolled her eyes.

"I know," Harvath replied. "I had the same reaction, but trust me, it's important that he see her."

"So I'll text him her phone number."

"He already has it. That's not the problem. The problem is that if she decides she wants to go with him, he thinks Tsybulsky won't let her leave."

"Well, he'd be right. Arkady sees Inessa as his property. Whoever this man is, you should tell him to find another girlfriend. This one is only going to get him killed."

"I wish it were that easy," Harvath continued. "The first part of my job is to get the two of them together without Tsybulsky, or any of his men, knowing."

Eva laughed. "Good luck. He's even more obsessed with security than my husband. Everyone on his staff is ex–Russian Special Forces and he pays ridiculously inflated prices for them. The saying in the Spetsnaz community is that you haven't truly made it until your invitation to Spetsgruppa ‘D' arrives."

Harvath was familiar with the different Spetsnaz units, but he hadn't heard of a Spetsgruppa "D." He figured it was some kind of wordplay. "What does the D stand for?"

"Deneжный meshok," she replied. "In English, it means ‘money bag.' In Russian as well, but for us it's considered quite derogatory. It refers to a boorish person with a crass amount of wealth." Smiling, she added, "I think it fits Arkady perfectly."

Harvath smiled back.

Taking another sip of champagne, she asked, "What's the second part of your job? Once you get these two supposed lovebirds together."

"If Inessa decides she wants to go off with this man, I'm supposed to help her disappear."

Eva shook her head. "If you do, Arkady won't rest until he's killed all three of you."

"I don't think I'll lose any sleep over him," Harvath responded.

"He's not like my husband. He can't be reasoned with. And you should know that he doesn't select his ex-Spetsnaz soldiers solely for their skills and experience. He picks them for their moral flexibility. They are not honorable men. They're bad people."

"Understood. I intend to stay as far away from them as possible."

"Why don't I believe you?" she asked.

Once more, Harvath smiled. "Everything's going to be fine. I just need you to do one thing for me."

"Which is?"

"Contact Inessa. Tell her you want to see her before she leaves. Get her to meet you for dinner tonight."

Eva looked at him. "That's it?"

"That's it," he replied, topping off her champagne. "I'll take care of everything else."