Page 134 of The Oligarch's Daughter

“Do you believe me or do you believe Berzin?”

“You mean, do I believe you or do I believe my father?”

He felt his chest hollow out. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Exactly,” he said.

“Pasha,” she said after a long pause, “you know me by now. I am a Galkin.”

88

The rest of the weekend passed quickly, a succession of meals ever grander and more impressive, costly wines and champagnes. Paul and Tatyana didn’t talk much, and when they did, she felt far away. By the time they got out of the helicopter at the East Thirty-Fourth Street Heliport, he was ready to come home.

They arrived at Tatyana’s old apartment, and Paul knew at once that something was wrong. To begin with, their welcome mat had been turned upside down.

“What is this?” Tatyana said.

“Strange,” Paul said but didn’t elaborate. Maybe it was nothing. Kids in the neighborhood pulled random pranks. People stole Amazon packages from people’s front doors.

He keyed open the door, and Tatyana entered. Meanwhile, Paul felt on top of the door for the little strand of dental floss he’d left there.

It was gone.

Before leaving, without telling her, he’d put a few little telltale items in various places. Like spies do in the movies. So he would know if someone had been there while they were gone. Their lock was easy to pick.

He hoisted their suitcases and brought them into the foyer. She carried Pushkin in his carry case.

“Did you leave the lights on?” he asked her.

“Definitely not. I remember turning them off. You must have.”

He didn’t reply. He knew he hadn’t left the lights on. Someone had been here and wanted him to know it.

His heartbeat thumped in his ears.

He went into the bathroom next to their bedroom and noticed right away that his razor blade had changed places with his shaving cream. The intruders had deliberately made their work obvious.

He emerged from the bathroom and went to the kitchen while Tatyana wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom. He pulled out a screwdriver from the junk drawer, returned to the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. He switched off the wall sconce to the left of the mirror.

Holding his breath, he unscrewed the backplate. He found the thumb drive still taped inside the plate. Still there.

He let out a breath. He’d successfully hidden it from them. They hadn’t found it. He congratulated himself: not a bad hiding place after all.

He removed the little device and slipped it into his pocket, then screwed the sconce backplate back on.

Tatyana knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in to take a shower?”

“Sure,” he said.

While she took her shower, he opened his laptop and inserted the thumb drive. Only a whiteXover a red circle appeared on the screen, and a few lines of text:

OSError: The volume does not contain a recognized file system. Please make sure that all required file system drivers are loaded and the volume is not corrupted.

The flash drive had been wiped clean. Before, it had been gobbledygook. Now even the nonsense text was gone.

He suddenly felt short of breath. Someone had indeed found the concealed drive, and they’d erased it.

And put it back.

He texted Special Agent Addison and asked to meet him as soon as possible.

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