Page 84 of Ford
“Why didn’t he pick us up?” Ford asked.
“Because he shouldn’t have anything to do with either of you.Pydyom.”
The woman walked over to a side door and opened it, looked out into the hall, and motioned for them to follow.
Then Scarlett really was in a spy movie because she sneaked down the hallway and out of the back door of Lubyanka. Waited for the “Stay down” and got it when they climbed into the back seat of Yanna’s car, a black Mercedes. “Just until we get out of the parking lot.”
Ford bent over, pulling Scarlett down under him as they exited the lot. Nothing of his demeanor betrayed his pulse rate, including his softly spoken, “It’ll be okay.”
Right.
“It’s not far.” Yanna pulled into traffic. “David is waiting in the hotel bar. You can sit up now.”
Scarlett sat up, but Ford pulled her close to him.
“I’m head of our cybercrimes division.” She looked in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t understand,” Ford said. “How did you get involved?”
“David is my husband. And he needed my help.”
The hotel looked like something out of czarist Russia, rising like a castle on the corner, with columns, balconies, and gilded windows. Scarlett expected to see a czarina appear, white-gloved, gowned, and waving to the crowd that would be gathered in a park on the opposite side of the street. No, not any park—Scarlett spotted one of the corner turrets of the Kremlin. Flags fluttered above a canopied entrance of the hotel.
Yanna pulled up to a ramp next door and took it down a level, parking near the entrance. The cement ceiling hung low, the place damp and gloomy, and the difference in temperature raised gooseflesh on Scarlett’s skin.
Okay, it might not have been the temperature. Because really, Ford was buying this? Had he never seen any Russian spy movies?
They should have run when they had the chance. Orheshould have run.
But he hadn’t.Whatever happens, I will show up for you, Red. Whatever happens.
His words were starting to embed in her bones.
Ford took her hand again as they followed Yanna into the stairwell.
She stopped them. “You can’t be seen together. The CIA is looking for two Americans traveling together, and while you are not your sister and her companion—”
“Hercompanion?” Ford said, but Yanna held up her hand.
“We don’t have time to have you brought in for questioning. So you, young lady, are coming with me. And, Mr. Miller, you’ll find my husband at the end of the bar. Big blond man. Very handsome.”
“Wait.” Ford swung down his backpack from his shoulder and unzipped the front pouch. Dug out the earwigs and handed one to Scarlett. The other he put into his ear. “You call me. You listen to everything I say, and if I say—”
“I want a burger.”
His smile was slow, and he nodded.
She pulled out her phone. “No reception in here.”
They took the stairs up a flight, and Yanna opened the door into the opulence of the hotel. Full-sized marble statues of Greek gods, or perhaps just very well-muscled men, flanked a marble hallway. A long red carpet led up to registration desks at the end, bordered by tasseled crimson and gold velour draperies and carved wooden sofas covered in brocade.
“Welcome to the oldest hotel in Moscow.” Pride tinged Yanna’s voice.
Huh. Scarlett dialed her cell, and next to her, Ford picked up.
“Copy,” he said, and she hummed an affirmative.
“David will be recording the conversation, also,” Yanna said. She turned to Ford. “Wait a moment before you come in.”