Domino (The Domino Trilogy) (47 page)

“Which is not good for us,”
Elzbeta snapped. “So much for going underground.”

“Now, now, it’s not as bad as all that,”
Rostovich said. “We’ll just have to watch how we present ourselves, that’s all. Our hosts are both former KGB, and experts in disguise. Meanwhile, Julian has agreed to continue being our intermediary for collecting the copy. I recommend Domino---that is, Nancy---continue to write it in shorthand, though we can use an encrypted scan file to send it over the Internet now instead of a clunky old fax machine. By the way Nancy, I liked how you referred to me as, and I quote, ‘a cross between Salvador Dali and Al Capone.’”

Elzbeta
gasped. “What? Jesus Christ, she’ll blow our cover! We can’t keep her with us. Take her to the American embassy in Odessa and leave her there.”

Rostovich
shook his head. “Even if we could get there safely---which right now, we can’t---Nancy doesn’t have a passport. She has no way of proving her citizenship, and the staff there are just as corrupt as those in the Ukrainian government.”

I glanced back and forth between them.
“If I’m such a liability, why did you go to all this trouble to get me?” I turned to Rostovich. “And not to be nit-picky, but if you were going to chase me halfway across the world after your old crime buddy kidnapped me, did it ever occur to you to bring my passport along with you? Hannah could have told you I keep it in my locked bottom desk drawer.”

Rostovich
sighed. “She did tell me that, and we did look for it. But it seems our good friends Rolf and Wilhelm---Hannah told me about them---got to it first, when they grabbed the two of you from your apartment. By the way, those two did not work for me. They somehow intercepted the two bodyguards I sent over to protect you. My employees are still missing, and the police in Cleveland have no leads. Other than what we might be able to find for them, anyway. That’s where Nancy’s reporting skills can help. You can send out copy on what we find here using my secured connection without revealing our whereabouts. Someone who reads it back home might uncover a clue we’ve overlooked. There are many layers to this web, Nancy. I didn’t mean to catch you up in my own troubles, but now that you are, you’re probably the best person alive to get yourself out, not to mention several others.”

When
Rostovich had arrived in my chambers at the House of Pleasure, I’d thought my troubles were over, that I’d be back safe in my American bed within a day or two. But it was not to be. “What makes you think I want to keep writing about all of this?” I exclaimed. “All I want is to go home. I don’t care about your stupid shadow-puppet-whatever mystery anymore. I don’t care about anything but getting out of this hellhole and back to the States.”

This wasn’t entirely true. I was thrilled at the prospect of the whole
English-speaking world reading my words, hanging on every new detail as it happened---what journalist wouldn’t be? But I wasn’t sure I wanted to pay the heavy price required to get that kind of copy. Hadn’t I paid a big enough price already?

Rostovich
reached over and squeezed my hand. His touch sent a jolt through my body; my groin warmed and my cheeks reddened as it evoked memories of our romp back at the Ritz. We’d been intimate only twice, yet I felt as if our bodies had been connected forever. Perhaps we’d been lovers in another life. Or maybe the passions stirred up when a Dominant like him took a virgin like me were so powerful they amounted to a powerful drug, even more addictive and seductive than opium. All at once I wanted to run away with him, to put all of this danger behind us and just share the pleasures we could give to one another. In a darkened room, with a silk scarf and a leather belt, things could be so simple, so beautiful.

“I wish I could get you home right now,” he said softly. “But
Bluschencko controls most of Sevastopol, and he already knows we’re here. Until we can find a way to neutralize him, we’ll have to lay low.”

I leaned in closer to him. “Can’t you and I just go somewhere, alone, together?”

He kissed my forehead. “I wish we could. But not now.”

“
First we must find Katje,” Elzbeta interrupted. She’d been eavesdropping. Not that there was a lot of privacy here. The whole apartment could fit into my parents’ garage.

“Who is
Katje?” I asked.

“My sister,”
Rostovich replied. “She’s been missing for almost eight years. I think the photos I showed you back in Cleveland might be the key to finding her. But I need your help. I need your special gifts. I can’t do it on my own.”

“My special gifts?”

“You have so many,” Elzbeta said. “I told you once, you didn’t believe me. Now you have proof.”