Page 133 of The Oligarch's Daughter

“Well, he’s wrong. I was at home in bed.”

“But when you—”

“Khvatit!” Galkin told his security director abruptly. “Dostatochno!” “That’s enough,” he was saying. Then, in English, he said, “Andrei Dmitrovich, this is my son-in-law. My daughter’s husband.”

“Of course,” Berzin said hastily.

“There will be time for investigation.” Turning to Paul, his eyes dead, Galkin said, “Are you a spy, Paul?”

“A spy?” Paul said. He felt a freeze creep up his spine. His mind was careening; he was unable to think clearly. Had they found the tracker in Galkin’s briefcase and somehow figured out he’d planted it? “Come on, Arkady, that’s ridiculous.”

“Ah,” Galkin said, raising both hands like a benediction. His small eyes glittered. “My security director says you are. I want to believeyou. Because if you are lying to me”—he wiped his hands together as if he were ridding them of dirt—“I will not care if you are married to my daughter. Is all clear?”

87

Heart galloping, short of breath, Paul returned to the Rothko Suite, found Tatyana sitting in a chair, her little dog on her lap. His crazed thoughts had begun to organize themselves, form patterns. He had been sloppy in his search of AGF’s network. He must have set off some kind of silent software alarm. A thorough investigation would indeed incriminate him. What if they pulled the CCTV for the building lobby that night and saw him leaving?

“What’s wrong?” Tatyana said, reading his expression.

“Your father doesn’t trust me.”

“No? What do you mean?”

“He thinks I’m a spy. It’s his Stalinist security thug, Berzin. He’s got it in for me for some reason.”

“Did my father say he doesn’t trust you? In those words?”

“Not in so many words. He asked me if I’m a spy.”

“Just like that?”

“Right.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said no, of course not. I said that was a ridiculous accusation.”

“Why did he even ask?”

Paul shook his head. “The details aren’t important. One night, someone accessed parts of the company network that are sealed off from most employees.”

“Vova saw you,” she said, “coming out of the building in the middle of the night.”

It was like a cold breeze had suddenly rippled the air. “Where did you hear that from?”

“From Berzin.”

“Is that why you were talking to him outside his suite?”

She shrugged. She wasn’t going to answer.

“So you already know all this?”

“Yes.”

“And are you taking my side?”

“I don’t know the facts,” she said. Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, but her expression had clouded.

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