Lara Lacombe - Fatal Fallout

She paused, glancing up to find Thomas watching her, his gaze steady as he listened. He nodded encouragingly, so she took a deep breath and continued.

“That’s how we started working together. He was always very kind to me, making sure I was comfortable and included. He went so far as to introduce me to his family, take me to his daughter’s concerts, his wife’s dinner parties. I returned the favor when he was stateside, showing him around D.C. and keeping him fed and entertained when we weren’t in meetings. Not that kind of entertainment,” she said darkly, seeing his brows rise slightly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Thomas replied, eyes wide with false innocence. She glared at him, but he merely smiled in return. “Was there ever any indication he was involved in something...shady?”

She shook her head forcefully, denying the question before he’d even finished asking it. “No. No way. Ivan was a good man—he’d dedicated his life to keeping these dangerous materials out of the wrong hands, and there’s no way he would have compromised that.”

“Not even for money? It sounds like securing these sites takes a lot of cash. Is it possible he was selling a bit on the side, not enough to be suspicious, but enough to fund some other operations?”

Claire blinked at him, not following this line of thinking. Was he serious? “Why would he do that? Why would he sell off spent fuel, only to turn around and use the money to keep spent fuel from getting into the wrong hands?”

“Maybe he didn’t think he was selling to the bad guys,” Thomas said, shrugging a shoulder as if he didn’t care either way.

“That’s not logical,” she pointed out, needing Agent Kincannon to understand the fallacy of his argument. “Anyone who wants spent fuel has questionable motives, and Ivan knew that better than most. He wouldn’t do that.”

Thomas leaned forward again, mouth drawn as he regarded her. “You have a bit more faith in Ivan than I do.”

“It’s got nothing to do with faith.” Exasperation made her voice shrill, and she paused to swallow the emotions tightening her throat before continuing. “It’s logic, plain and simple. Ivan wouldn’t do something so unreasonable.”

“You like things to be logical, don’t you?”

Was she seeing things, or did the corner of his mouth twitch upward? She arched an eyebrow, sending him what she hoped was a cool look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Okay, that really was a twitch.

“Not at all. I’m just trying to play devil’s advocate,” he said.

“And this is funny to you?”

The hint of a smile vanished from his face. “Absolutely not. I just want you to consider the possibilities.”

“But you’re wrong.”

He stared at her for a beat, then sighed, a teacher disappointed in his student. “You just told me that you and Ivan were close, that he took you under his wing and made you part of the family. Do you really think he would have included you in something like this?” When she didn’t respond, he pressed a bit more. “Or would he have tried to protect you, keep you out of the loop because he knew that it was dangerous and he knew you wouldn’t approve?”

Claire stared at her lap, her thoughts swirling like flakes in a snowstorm. Could he be right? If Ivan had been involved in something illegal, she knew he would have kept it from her. But...why would he do that? What would compel him to toss aside his values and morals and his entire career? He’d spent his whole professional life trying to keep this material out of the hands of people who would use it for evil, so why would he join forces with them now?

He’d been so excited during his last visit, so hopeful for the future. She refused to believe he’d been selling spent fuel on the side.

As if sensing her turmoil, Thomas leaned back in the chair, giving her space. He didn’t speak, but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her face as she worked through his hypothetical scenario.

“I suppose what you say is possible,” she allowed, knowing she had to at least acknowledge the chance he was right, even though in her heart she knew it wasn’t true. “But I don’t think that’s what happened here.”

Thomas nodded. “Fair enough. I just need you to consider the possibility that Ivan was not what he seemed.”

Claire opened her mouth to respond, but Thomas cocked his head toward the door, holding up a hand to keep her quiet. Footsteps sounded in the hall, coming closer to her apartment. He rose silently from the chair and padded over to the door, sliding up to the peephole to watch. Claire shrank down into the couch, huddling into a small ball, her palms slick from sweat and condensation. Her heart thumped hard in her chest when the footsteps stopped outside her door. She jumped when the doorbell rang, eyes glued to Thomas’s broad back as he stared out into the hall. Who was at the door? Someone dangerous? Why wasn’t he moving?

She heard a faint beeping sound, then a thud. Whoever it was walked back down the hall, and as the sound faded, Thomas relaxed. He opened the door, bent down and turned back into the apartment, an express mail package in his hands. She sighed as she realized the visitor had been nothing more than a deliveryman, shaking her head at her over-the-top reaction.

“Are you expecting something?” He set the package on the table with a frown.

“No.” She scooted forward to examine it, reluctant to touch it while Thomas regarded it with such open suspicion. “Oh!”

“What?” He held out an arm to keep her from getting too close, alarm evident in his voice.

“I know that handwriting.” Ignoring his grunt of displeasure, she reached out to trace the letters of her name. She looked up at him, his face blurry as she blinked back tears. “This is from Ivan.”

Chapter 3

What the hell?

After a few tense moments, Thomas had agreed to open the package. He’d insisted on doing the honors himself—no telling what it contained, and if there was some kind of chemical or biological agent inside, better for him to be exposed than her. It was his job to protect her, and somehow, he didn’t think Harper would shed too many tears if he were to meet his untimely demise.

The envelope contained nothing more than a yellowing stack of papers, neatly clipped together in the upper left corner. Claire removed the paper clip and began to flip through the pages, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked them over. He could see they were covered in tiny rows of precise, dark script but couldn’t make out the language at this distance. He sat next to her on the couch, leaning over her shoulder to get a better view.

She smelled like lavender, and the neck of her shirt gaped open enough to show the edge of her bra strap. A soft pink that matched the color on her toes, not white as he’d assumed earlier. Cut it out, he told himself sternly. She’s a job, not a woman. Feeling disgusted with himself, he forced his eyes away from the enticing sight, focusing instead on the papers in her hand.

At this range, he could see the writing was Cyrillic. “Can you read this?”

She jerked at his question, and he realized she’d been so focused on the papers she hadn’t known he was close. She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. I don’t understand why Ivan would send these to me. He knows—” she swallowed hard “—knew I don’t speak Russian or read Cyrillic.”

“Maybe he knew he was under threat and sent them to you for safekeeping.”

“Maybe,” she said, still sounding doubtful.

He stood, reaching into his jacket for his phone. “We need to get them translated, the sooner the better,” he said as he dialed. “If there’s a message there for you, we need to know what it says.”