Soldier's Redemption Read online

  Katerina regarded Skylar with those strange icy eyes, made more pronounced by the black liner and the black hair that obscured half her face. The color couldn’t be natural—it was way too dark for such light skin. “I’m sorry for her,” she said, and walking past Skylar, she headed back to the bedroom.

  Skylar followed, stopping at the door, her heart racing. A half-packed suitcase sat on the bed, drawers were pulled open and the closet door stood ajar.

  “Where are you going?” Skylar asked.

  Katerina looked over her shoulder. “Away.”

  “Like Malina did?”

  “Who are you?” Katerina repeated, turning to sit down beside her suitcase, the dark smudges under her eyes more pronounced in this light.

  “My name is Skylar. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. Are you leaving with Ian Banderas?”

  “No!”

  “The dishwasher at Pushki’s said—”

  “Sergi doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t want to know.”

  “What doesn’t he want to know?”

  “What Banderas is doing.”

  Skylar crossed the floor and sat down on the other side of the suitcase. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”

  Now tears filled the dark-rimmed eyes. “I made a plan. I would go along with Ian and see where it took me so I could find Malina. Svetlana was supposed to watch out for me. But she disappeared a day ago, and now you tell me she’s dead.”

  “Do you think Banderas is on to you, as well?”

  “No. He thinks I’m leaving Kanistan tonight. He told me some big story about how I would have a brand-new start in America. He even gave me a little money and bought me this new suitcase. I’m supposed to meet Dasha tonight after work.”

  “Who’s Dasha?”

  “Ian says she is an embassy representative, and she will accompany us to America. I’ve never met her.”

  “Us? What do you mean?” Skylar asked.

  “Me and a few other girls from other towns.”

  “So this, this ring of sorts, is not just here in Traterg.”

  “No.”

  “And they don’t actually force anyone to go?”

  Katerina looked down at her hands.

  “What is it?”

  “Malina told me she had changed her mind, and she was going to tell Ian and Dasha she didn’t want to leave. I did not tell this to Svetlana because I thought it would make things harder for her. Malina left to talk to them, but she never returned. I don’t think she got out of Kanistan alive. But I couldn’t take that hope away from Svetlana, could I?”

  “No,” Skylar said softly.

  “I think they use restaurants to find girls who have run away or lied about themselves. Malina was different. She had her mom, not that she would ever admit as much. We both had to pretend to be eighteen and I was trying to disappear, so we didn’t talk about family with anyone.”

  Skylar’s thoughts momentarily skipped back to Chiaro and Aneta’s family and the missing Zina who had also worked at a café. Apparently Banderas hadn’t known Malina had a concerned mother until after the fact.

  “Anyway, Dasha says I will have a new passport and documents and that I will work for an American family until I pay them back the money they spent for things like room and board, airfare and clothes,” Katerina continued. “But I don’t think you can ever work off the debt because it just keeps growing. Malina believed them at first. Then they gave her little pills to take—they said so she would not get airsick. Only they looked like some her mother got for pain when she broke her leg a year ago. Ian gave me those pills last night.” She reached in her pocket and took out a small bottle with three pills in it. “Malina said all these do is make you like a zombie. I think that’s when she decided not to go with them.”

  “I see,” Skylar said as Katerina tossed the bottle on the bed.

  “And I do not like the way they stress how nice I must be to everyone in my new American home,” she added. “How I must jump when they say to jump, especially the man. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” Skylar said, looking around the modest room. This poor kid had obviously had a hard time of it, and Skylar was glad she was heading back to wherever she called home. She noticed clothes and toiletries still scattered all over the place and added, “Can I help you pack the rest of your things?”

  “I can’t take anything else. My suitcase is full. Please, I have to go now.”

  “Just one more thing,” Skylar pleaded. “This is important. Have you ever heard of a man named Luca Futura?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “No. Ian said his name several times.”

  “In what capacity? Is he involved with this situation?”

  “I think so,” she said. “But I’m not sure.”

  Skylar swallowed her heart as she took out her phone. “I’m going to call a cab that will take you any direction you want for fifty miles. Will that work?”

  “I can’t afford—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pay for it.”

  “Then a ride across town to the train station would be great.”

  “Okay. But while we’re walking to the street, you have to tell me exactly what the plan was for tonight. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, shrugging on a coat and grabbing her suitcase. “Just hurry.”

  * * *

  COLE RAN OUT OF THE AIRPORT to the welcome sight of a line of cabs all awaiting fares. He ducked into the closest one and yelled, “Go!” Apparently language barriers didn’t exist when the voice delivering the message was urgent enough. The driver took off, and Cole sat back in the seat, still clutching his briefcase.

  He’d never intended on taking that plane—not tonight anyway—but he also hadn’t planned on an attack so quickly. Maybe the fact it came so fast explained the amateur efforts of his assailants—not that amateurs didn’t occasionally get the job done.

  He needed to get to a phone. Without Skylar to help translate, he was stuck in the water because the only option left now was to find a way to blend in. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady his nerves.

  As the cab rolled into the city, Cole spotted a row of shabby hotels, and a few blocks later, he asked the driver to stop. Again, his message seemed to get through because within moments he had paid the tab and was walking back down the block, nervously looking around for signs he’d been followed. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He checked in using cash and went up to his room where he used a credit card to place a call to Slovo.

  She answered on the third ring. “Irina Churo,” she said.

  “It’s Cole Bennett,” he told her. “I need help. Tonight. Can you drive down here?”

  Her voice lowered. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’m covering for a guy whose wife just went into labor. I can meet you tomorrow. Will that work?”

  “I guess it has to,” he said. He gave her the name of the hotel he had checked into and a general sketch of his plan. After he hung up, he placed another call, this one to Skylar. As it rang and rang, he pictured her staring at the strange number on the screen, sensing it was him while digital strains of Raiders of the Lost Ark filled the air.

  She didn’t answer, and he decided not to leave a message.

  Then he opened his briefcase. It was a miracle he’d managed to keep it during the attack. Tonight he would reconnoiter; tomorrow, Irina and he would do the rest.

  * * *

  THE IDEA CAME TO SKYLAR when, without anywhere else to go, she’d decided to hang out at Katerina’s place in case Ian or Dasha showed up and she could confront them. She assumed her status as her uncle’s niece would protect her from their violence, but the truth was she was so upset by Svetlana’s death and the audacity of the people who murdered her and her friend that she almost welcomed a confrontation.

  As for the bombshell that Katerina dropped? That she couldn’t bear to believe—not only for her aunt’
s sake but for Cole’s. Had she been so blinded by loyalty to her family that she’d jeopardized the man she loved, that she refused to stand beside him when he needed her most?

  Katerina had left a box of black hair dye on the drain board, and as soon as Skylar saw it, the wheels began to spin. They were about the same size and bone structure. Katerina’s makeup and haircut were so distinctive they defined her, and they were both things Skylar could imitate. Surely fate had stepped in....

  She had to know how deep her uncle was in this mess, and that was going to take a little risk.

  An hour later, her hair was as black as midnight and with the help of kitchen shears just about as ragged as Katerina’s, falling forward over half her face. She found a ratty pair of jeans Katerina had probably left behind because they were so big they fell off if not belted and a T-shirt cast aside in the closet along with an apron embroidered with Pushki’s. Even the girl’s shoes fit tolerably well although they each had a hole in the sole. All that was left to do was make up her eyes with the almost-empty container of discarded eyeliner she found and lower the pitch of her voice.

  With any luck, the staff and patrons would see exactly what they expected to see as Skylar assumed Katerina’s identity and assured whoever—if anyone—was watching her that everything was fine and going according to plan. And since she’d worked a semester during college waiting tables, there was a good chance she could make this work.

  Skylar walked back to the café without a coat as hers was red and highly visible and nothing like the clothes Katerina wore. The cook looked up as she entered the kitchen. “’Bout time you showed up.”

  She shrugged and didn’t respond, pleased that so far she’d been taken at face value. An older waitress told her to get out on the floor, that she had tables ten through twenty and things were getting busy. She found a chart on the wall and paused in front of it long enough to get an idea of where her tables were located.

  The café had been smoky in the middle of the day, but now it was worse. Groups of people looking as though they were fresh from work sat at round tables drinking everything from coffee to wine, and it wasn’t long before she was taking orders and turning in tickets by watching how the other waitresses did it. Her main fear was that a cook would notice her handwriting wasn’t the same as Katerina’s, or perhaps that she wasn’t using the right codes, but she kept at it, looking at other tickets whenever she could.

  It was a noisy, boisterous crowd who all called her by name and asked her questions that she responded to with flippant answers and vague waves of the hand. Katerina had told her that Dasha would come to Katerina’s house after the café closed at ten o’clock but that she suspected the woman might come earlier to the café just to make sure things were on schedule. Dasha would give Katerina a ride to the airport, a new American passport and documentation, then she would fly with Katerina and an undisclosed number of other girls to the United States. Entry into the country would be mere formality, Katerina was assured, because of Dasha’s diplomatic connection. And it was important that Katerina take all three of the small white pills she’d been given as soon as she got home.

  Skylar had called the airport and found that there was a commercial flight leaving for New York that night. And then she’d stared at her phone and tried to decide if she should tell anyone what she was up to. With Cole out of the picture, the only person she could confide in was her uncle. Not right now, no thanks.

  She’d had several hours to think about what Cole had told her that morning and review his actions of the past few days, and now she was able to consider the possibility that some of what had happened between them might be real. Every look, every caress, every whispered word couldn’t have been a lie. Or was that wishful thinking?

  As far as how she would provide proof damning enough to make her uncle wake up and smell the coffee—well, that she wasn’t sure about. It was her first time as a spy, and she was winging it.

  “Katerina!” the waitress named Rosa said. “Your order is waiting. Wake up, girl!”

  “Oh, sorry,” Skylar said, scooping up a platter of sausage and potatoes.

  “It’s okay,” Rosa said. “You look a little different tonight. Maybe a little preoccupied?”

  “Maybe,” Skylar said.

  “You have another admirer,” Rosa added.

  “Another?”

  “Besides the cute blond guy that started coming onto you after Malina left him high and dry. There’s a new one, over near the kitchen. He’s been staring at you.”

  Skylar hadn’t noticed anyone staring at her, which was a little disconcerting. She’d been so busy trying to be Katerina that she hadn’t been wary enough. This time when she delivered her order, she peered into the shadowed edges of the room and saw a dark-haired man with a beard and thick glasses nursing coffee and smoking brown cigarettes. He held a book and didn’t seem to be watching anyone. Maybe Rosa was imagining things.

  By then, the after-dinner crowd began to show up, including a lone woman who looked vaguely familiar to Skylar. She was relieved when the woman chose another waitress’s table, afraid they may have met at some time.

  Who was she? Blunt-cut black hair, ruby-red lips, pretty...she could hear Cole saying something: pretty in a “she-eats-minions-for-lunch way.” That’s what he’d said about this woman when she came into the hotel dining room with Ian Banderas. Was this Dasha?

  Skylar got very busy for a while, but she tried to keep an eye on the two people of interest. The woman left after eating a cup of soup. Skylar didn’t notice when the man left; he was just suddenly gone.

  It was after ten by the time Skylar tallied her tickets, collected her tips and made her way out the door. Before checking in at the café, she’d replaced the three little sleeping pills with aspirin and left them on the counter of Katerina’s home. Since there was no way to lock the door, she’d also straightened things up so that if someone checked they wouldn’t immediately suspect the real Katerina had vacated the premises.

  The sidewalks were slippery with icy rain. Without a coat, the cold encouraged her to hurry. Her phone was in her pocket, and she kept her hand over it because twice that evening it had almost fallen out. She’d actually snapped a quick shot of the woman in the café already, but it was dark and grainy. Besides, the person she really wanted to capture was Ian Banderas.

  The garden path at night resembled something out of a horror movie with waving black limbs and blowing leaves. She let herself into Katerina’s old house with a sigh of relief.

  That sigh was premature as the lights suddenly clicked on, and she found the woman from the restaurant standing by the counter, a clothes bag in her hands.

  “Sorry to startle you,” she said, her voice as crisp as her haircut. She wore a blue wool jacket with a complicated insignia on the lapel over a long black skirt. It was the emblem of the Kanistan embassy; Skylar had seen it before when she’d visited with her uncle. So that’s how they moved people around. Heeled boots made her tower over Skylar. “My name is Dasha, your embassy connection. Ian told you I would come, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said, hoping to appear demure.

  “Have you taken your pills yet?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Take them now,” Dasha said. “Ian will be here in a few minutes.”

  Ian was coming! This was great news. She could get this on the camera, maybe even hit the movie mode so it recorded voices. She took the small bottle from the counter and emptied the contents—three aspirin masquerading as barbiturates—into her hand, swallowing them with the aid of a glass of water Dasha handed her.

  “And change into this,” Dasha added, shoving the clothes bag at Skylar.

  Skylar took the bag and saw immediately that it held the same outfit that Dasha wore. She retreated to the small bedroom and wondered how she would transfer her phone between clothes.

  “Please, hurry,” Dasha said, and it was clear she was going to stand at the door and watch. Skylar
took the bag and retreated into the bathroom. The first thing she did was check to see if her wallet, which she’d hidden under a pile of dirty towels, was still there, sighing with relief when she found it was. She changed out of Katerina’s old jeans and shirt quickly, stuffing them into the small trash can, donning the skirt and jacket. Neither article had pockets. With nowhere to conceal the phone, she stuck it in the trash can with her clothes. She would have to think of an excuse to use the bathroom again before she left.

  “That’s better,” Dasha said when she returned and the critical cast of her gaze made Skylar glad she’d ditched her wallet and phone.

  “Where is your new suitcase?” Dasha asked. “I don’t see it here.”

  “I sold it,” Skylar said.

  “And the money Ian gave you to settle your obligations?”

  “I spent it all,” Skylar said.

  Dasha shook her head. “I’ll give you your passport when we get to the airport. From now on, you’ll be Susan Williams from Seattle, Washington. Are you excited about your grand new adventure?”

  “Yes,” Skylar said.

  “Good for you. Oh, and by the way, we did a little checking and discovered you have family you failed to mention. We know exactly where they live. You have a little sister, too, no? Rest assured, we will send them a note to explain your absence along with a little extra cash to help them along.”

  They’d found Katerina’s family? Skylar started to rub her eyes, remembered all the makeup and stopped herself. Was mentioning the sister some kind of veiled threat? Was this how they made sure the girls wouldn’t get cold feet? Katerina had assumed they didn’t know about her family, but obviously, they did.

  “I know you switched the pills,” Dasha said, a little of the sugary sweetness missing from her voice. “Why did you do that?”

  “I, um, sold those, too.”

  “Enterprising little thing, aren’t you? Well, never fear, I switched them back. We can’t have you airsick.”

  Call it the power of suggestion, but with the knowledge that she’d taken the wrong pills Skylar became light-headed. This couldn’t happen; she needed to keep her wits. As she stepped away from Dasha, the room spun and she stumbled.