Richard nodded.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take your jacket off while I’m packing?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Salad?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No, thank you.”
“Richard, is it really that urgent?”
He remembered her anecdote, oft quoted by press – about how an MI6 agent barged into her apartment and she demanded he take his clothes off – to make sure he’s unarmed … He hadn’t even kissed her yet – but while he’s sitting at a distance, nothing will tempt him.
Alexandra threw careful glances his way occasionally, she was coiling wires, packed the laptop, the tablet, tubes of makeup into her suitcase. The red notebook, the phone, and passport she placed on the table – in plain sight, so she wouldn’t forget.
When Richard put the backpack on, he winced.
The wheels of the mint suitcase noisily ran across the asphalt in the inner courtyard of the apartment block, they were headed to the arch that led to the outside of the building. Richard took the keys out of the pocket, a white off-roader beeped briefly, Alexandra squinted.
He counted seconds until her question.
“If the car’s here, why did you take the backpack and the bag with you up to the apartment?”
Richard opened the trunk.
“I picked them up on the way.”
“On the way – at my building?”
The suitcase and the red notebook followed Richard’s things into the trunk. She’s always perceptive, she’s impossible to fool – but he wasn’t trying to.
“Yes,” he turned and met her eyes. “I stored them in an apartment in the adjacent section, just in case, I hoped I’d never have to use them.”
“Just in case …” Alexandra drawled. “Oh, that mysterious stranger, Richard North.”
When Richard was on a mission of getting to know the writer Alexandra Stern, pen name Stella Fracta, he was playing the part of a little-known British actor Richard North from the theater troupe The Old Vic … The Circus arranged a fictitious biography for him, an apartment in Battersea in London and a spare one to watch the target – in Moscow. Alexandra treated him like a piece of furniture at first – despite all his tricks; he was just supposed to become her lover and infiltrate the Poets’ society, her alchemical circle which MI6 was so interested in. When he finally earned her trust, his world turned upside down.
He was in love before he knew it. Before he knew it, he was an alchemist – and became entangled in mystification, a story of heroism and treason.
Richard slapped down the trunk door and headed for the driver’s seat.
Alexandra sat next to him in front, she put her seatbelt on and turned to look back – at the child safety seat.
“I borrowed this car,” Richard rushed to explain as he started the engine.
“I don’t mind it if you have kids,” she chuckled. “I’m sure they’re as beautiful as you.”
He shook his head and started to drive. Jealousy and Alexandra were like oil and water …
It frightened him to think that he could have children – that he has no idea about.
2. Agent
They rounded the Sheremetyevo Airport complex, stopped at the open parking lot next to Terminal A. The evening sky was gray and dull, the sun, veiled with clouds, hadn’t set yet, but was doing little good. Richard left the car, Alexandra slipped out after him, they stopped in front of the trunk.
“Wait.”
Before Richard could touch the handle of the trunk, Alexandra took his hand and stepped closer, put her hands on Richard’s shoulders. He was like a hot iron to a touch, he tried to seem lively, but for the entire one and a half hour drive the unnatural blush on his pale, stubbled cheeks has been betraying him.
She pulled him closer by the neck, put her cool fingers onto his cheekbones, he leaned down and closed his eyes. The kiss was cautious at first, then he involuntarily opened his mouth, holding her by the head, drinking her in greedily, turning her back towards the trunk, pushing in.
There wasn’t enough air, his lips were boiling, Richard came to his senses and let her go, his breathing heavy.
Alexandra unzipped his leather jacket with one motion, under it, on the left side of his stomach, a dark bloody stain spread across the jumper.
“You idiot,” she growled. “You thought I wouldn’t figure it out?”
She smelled the fresh wound while still at home – and watched him all along the drive. He didn’t let her take the wheel.
Richard released a breath through his nose, hastily tucking the jacket’s flaps. He didn’t answer.
“Are you going to board the plane like this?”
“What choice do I have?”
“You need a doctor.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“I hope that this scratch already got cleaned and stitched, and you’re not going to pass out in the next few minutes.”
“There’ll be a doctor on the plane,” replied Richard after a pause, and added, “I’m not lying.”
He had already told her that they were expected at the business aviation center at the airport, for the private flight to Tokyo, and that they would then go to a hotel and stay there indefinitely. Richard decided to take Alexandra with him and continue the current mission with the Bulls, travelling in such a way that she would always be close by – because it was unsafe to leave her in Moscow. It took effort for him to convince the Circus to help him – by appealing to the risk of the Poets operation failing.
He didn’t give the chiefs the details – just informed them that the identity of the actor Richard North that was dating the Russian writer Stella Fracta was compromised, and that’s why it was better for Alexandra to be under his protection.
Though, when they were together, it was him who felt protected by her …
Alexandra walked demonstratively ahead, rolling her suitcase, clutching the red notebook under her arm as they crossed the parking lot and moved towards the terminal building, though she was still unable to take the heavy bag from him. Richard was following her and looking around – afraid that his guard was failing him.
His head was starting to spin, a mucky nausea was crawling up his throat.
They were greeted at the check-in counter and informed that the plane is ready for takeoff and waiting for them. Soon they were going up to the second floor – to the restaurant with a panoramic view of the runway – to meet Richard’s people, among who, as he claimed, was a doctor. There were no visitors at the restaurant save for two guests at one of the tables, with unfinished and, undoubtedly, not their first cups of coffee. The young dark-haired man jumped up and squinted short-sightedly when he saw the approaching figures, his companion remained seated in the armchair, leaning on the table tiredly – he was Richard’s age, but nearly all his hair had gone gray.
“Richard!” the dark-haired man called out in English. “You said you’re going to pick up equipment!”
“I did,” Richard replied loudly.
The