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There was an awkward silence, and Victoria smiled at me wanly. “It’s just going to take time for it all to sink in,” she said.

“I understand,” I replied, getting to my feet. “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate.”

She nodded somberly. “Thanks, Jack.”

I showed myself out. Karl’s deception had troubled me deeply and it had taken me a while to forgive him. I could only imagine the impact the truth was having on his wife and son. It would take years for them to come to terms with it.

Ermilita, the housekeeper, walked me to the door, and I found Justine waiting beside the Nissan Rogue Private New York staff car.

“Ready?” she asked.

Chapter 118

“They don’t hand those out with fish,” Berdy Kotov said, gesturing at the medal on Dinara’s desk.

It was a Gold Star, which marked her out as a Hero of the Russian Federation, the highest honor available to a civilian. The President had presented it to her two weeks ago, and she was still bewildered by her sudden change of fortune.

A few weeks previously, she’d been an enemy of the state, hunted by the instruments of government, and facing mortal danger at every turn. Now, she’d received Russia’s highest accolade, and she and Private had been exonerated and commended by the government for the role they’d played in exposing a rogue intelligence operation. Dinara wasn’t sure how rogue the operation had really been, but the government was certainly going to great lengths to rehabilitate Private, and business was booming as never before.

People like Kotov had flocked to the office with assignments. Kotov was convinced his lawyer was embezzling funds from his book-wholesaling business. Elena Kabova, the office administrator, had been run off her feet, fielding inquiries from business people, suspicious spouses, lawyers, accountants and wealthy Muscovites, and it was starting to feel like the large and varied client list of any other Private office.

“So, do you think you can take my case?” Kotov asked.

“What do you think, Dinara?” Feo remarked. “Can we take Berdy Kotov’s assignment?”

Kotov looked nervously at the big man, who’d offered to help out until Dinara could staff the office properly. She’d already hired a number of his associates from the Residence on short-term contracts to cope with the workload.

“We’d be happy to help,” Dinara said, rising from her desk.

“Thank you, thank you,” Kotov replied, and Dinara ushered him out of the partitioned office she’d installed to give her a little privacy.

“Elena will be in touch with our client-services agreement,” Dinara said, and Kotov nodded and headed for the exit.

Elena poked her head around the corner. “Lunch is ready, and there’s someone to see you.”

Dinara walked through the open-plan office. Almost all the desks were occupied by Feo’s people, who were either on the phone, doing paperwork or working on computers. Only one desk was empty: Leonid’s. There was a framed photo of the detective on the otherwise bare surface, a small tribute to a good man.

Dinara walked round the corner into the reception area and saw containers of solyanka soup lined up on Elena’s desk. Another small mark of respect. Each day, they had Leonid’s favorite lunch, and it was almost impossible not to think or talk about the man while eating the soup he’d loved.

Dinara was surprised when she looked across reception to see a familiar face in the waiting area.

“Hello, Dinara,” Anna Bolshova said. She wore a dark skirt and jacket, and had a green woolen coat slung over her arm.

Her work on the Bright Star case, and in bringing Erik Utkin and his Black Hundreds drugs gang to justice, had earned her a promotion, so Dinara was surprised to see her in civilian clothes on a weekday.

“Hello, Anna,” Dinara replied.

“So...” Anna hesitated. She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve always been ambitious, and I’ve always said I want to work where the action is. The politics of the police... well, let’s just say my recent experiences have left me a little jaded toward the official instruments of the state.”

Dinara broke into a broad smile, and Anna responded in kind.

“Anyway, to get to the point,” Anna said. “I understand you’re hiring.”

Chapter 119

“How are Kevin and Victoria holding up?” Justine asked as we started our journey to the airport.

“It’s a lot to handle, but hopefully they’ll learn to forgive him,” I replied.

“What about you?” Justine asked.

“I’m getting there.”

“And the shoulder?”

It had taken three hours of surgery, and weeks of special rehabilitation exercises, but I was almost back to full mobility. “I hardly notice it,” I replied honestly.

“I...” Justine began, but she hesitated. “I don’t know what I would have done, Jack.”

I could sense her anguish at the thought of losing me, and felt my own emotions rise. “I know,” I replied.

I didn’t trust myself to say anything else, and our shared fears of what might have been hung over us.

“But we came through it,” I said at last, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” Justine agreed with a hesitant smile. “We did.”

We spent the journey from the Parkers’ Long Island home to John F. Kennedy Airport talking shop. Private had been exonerated and the handful of clients we’d lost had returned. Most offices were seeing an uptick in business thanks to the high-profile success of the Bright Star investigation. But with success came a different set of challenges: mundane issues such as hiring, budget approvals and hundreds of other operational decisions, many of which needed my attention. The distraction of the day-to-day kept us occupied until we reached the perimeter of JFK Airport, but when we turned onto the North Service Road, I sensed a change in mood. Justine was building up to something, and as we approached the perimeter airfield gate, she finally said, “I’ve been replaying the conversation we had in the bar before you went to Moscow, and I’ve been wondering whether we need some confusion in our lives. Maybe we’d make the same mistakes all over again, but what if we didn’t?”

I thought back to my unfinished highball at the Library bar in the Nomad Hotel and searched for a reply, but was distracted by the scene on the other side of the gate. A Gulfstream G550 waited at a stand, and there were four vehicles parked beside it: three town cars and another Nissan Rogue, this one in red.

“A powerful friend insisted we fly private,” Justine revealed.

A crowd of people stood near the airstairs, and I recognized some of the faces. Mo-bot and Sci were there, along with Jessie Fleming, the head of Private New York, and Rafael Lucas, our legal counsel. They were talking to Eli Carver, the Secretary of Defense. His Secret Service detail stood a few paces away, and kept a close eye on him and his surroundings.

The gate guard checked our credentials, and waved us through. When we pulled up by the aircraft, Secretary Carver came over to greet us.

“Jack Morgan,” he beamed. “I wanted to thank you in person.”