Private Moscow

Chapter 75

I staggered into the dining hall, stunned by my conversation with Chief Wilson. I clutched the childhood photos of Karl Parker tightly, as though holding them might keep me connected to a past I now knew to be a lie. Nothing about my old friend’s life was real. Everything he’d ever told me about his time before the Marines was false.

I found myself at Leonid and Dinara’s table, and dropped the photos, which scattered like leaves falling from a tree.

“What’s the matter?” Dinara asked.

“I just spoke to the chief of police of Karl Parker’s home town,” I replied. “The real Karl Parker died in a car crash with his parents. It seems the man I knew stole the dead child’s identity.”

Saying it out loud somehow made it even more real. I sat down, propped my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Dinara offered.

I glanced at her and Leonid, who offered a sympathetic nod.

“I thought I knew Karl,” I said. “The guy trained me. We were friends.”

“You think his wife knew?” Leonid asked.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I don’t think so.”

“Prizrak,” Leonid said to Dinara.

I looked at her for an explanation.

“Ghost,” she said. “It’s another word for a sleeper. A deep-cover agent.”

I was reeling and refused to accept the possibility. “Karl — the man I knew — he served his country with distinction. He was no traitor.”

Leonid’s phone rang, and he stepped away from the table to take the call.

“How are you feeling?” Dinara asked.

I looked at her clear, penetrating eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. I came here and risked everything for a friend. And now it turns out I never knew him at all.”

“I don’t think we can ever truly conceal what we are,” Dinara said. “Even when we’re deep under cover, I think our true character shines through.”

I took little comfort from her words. A man prepared to lie big was certainly willing to lie small. All his interactions, every moment, everything he was and everything he stood for was all an illusion. Nothing he’d ever done was beyond question.

“Can you email Justine?” I asked. “Let her know what the chief told me. I can’t face explaining it again.”

I slapped the tabletop in frustration. “I feel like a fool!” I exclaimed, drawing the attention of a handful of people lingering over their late lunches. “The head of the world’s best detective agency couldn’t figure out his own friend was a fraud.”

“Assuming he was, he will have been trained by the very best,” Dinara said. “I’ll let Justine know. And Jack...” She hesitated. “You weren’t looking for it. That’s why you didn’t see the lie. He was your friend and teacher, and you trusted him.”

Leonid returned before I could answer.

“That was Anna Bolshova. She says she’s got something for me. She wants to meet.”

“When?” Dinara asked.

“Thirty minutes, the Arts Park, by the river,” Leonid replied.

“Want some company?” she asked.

Leonid shrugged. “Sure.”

“Jack?” Dinara asked.

“I’m going to stay here,” I replied. “See if I can figure out when the man I knew took over the real Karl Parker’s identity.”

“OK,” Leonid said. “Hopefully we’ll bring you back something useful.”

Dinara got to her feet and followed the grizzled former detective out. I sat staring at the remains of their meals for a few moments, before I shook off my self-pity and headed back to the library.