In Sheep's Clothing by Susan May Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

breathe names, or even connections. Chat rooms are not private, even encrypted ones like ours. Ponyatna? ”
    “Yeah, I got it.” Annoyance plucked his nerves and he felt a faint ripple of fear. He wasn’t under any illusions that the Internet, and even his e-mail, couldn’t be monitored. That was why they used nicknames and chatted in English, why Preach had set up their private, encrypted chat room. Vicktor rubbed his thumb along the handle of his coffee cup. Post-Communism residue soured his stomach.
    “Is it lunchtime yet?”
    Yanna’s face lit up. “Roma!”
    Vicktor stood and locked hands with Roman, who grinned. “I got a tidbit for you that will make your day.”
    “You’re on Evgeny’s case,” Vicktor guessed. It gave him pleasure to see his friend’s smile droop.
    “How did you know?”
    “Malenkov. Chewed my ear off this morning for not calling him on his day off.”
    Roman turned a chair around and straddled it, joining them at the round table. He eyed Vicktor’s beverage with a grimace. “Vicktor, why can’t you drink tea like every other Russian?”
    Vicktor ignored his sour stomach and took a long, loud sip of his coffee.
    Roman put two hands to his neck and squeezed, mimicking choking. Vicktor nearly choked for real with laughter when a waitress hustled up, and looked at the COBRA captain like he had a disease.
    Yanna shook her head.
    Roman cleared his throat, becoming, instantly, the counter-terrorist Red Beret who knew how to defuse a tense situation. He smiled, nicely. “Got any borscht?”
    “I’ll see,” the waitress snapped. She whirled and headed for the kitchen.
    Roman gave an exaggerated shiver. “Oh, how I love Russian service.”
    Vicktor gulped his laughter. Roman didn’t need any outside encouragement.
    “So, you already know my big news.” Roman crossed his arms and waggled his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll bet you don’t know this…”
    Vicktor gave him a mock glare.
    Roman glanced at Yanna. “He’s grumpy, huh?”
    She smirked.
    “Roman,” Vicktor warned.
    “Keep your shirt on, Vita. Some of us got to asking how the comrade major found out about Evgeny. I mean, Arkady certainly didn’t roust him out of bed with the news, did he?”
    Vicktor leaned forward, his heart missing a beat. “Who told him?”
    “Actually, we’re not sure.”
    Vicktor’s eyes narrowed.
    “But we do know the call came in early this morning on one of Major Malenkov’s private lines, right after he came in to work.”
    Disbelief almost stole Vicktor’s voice but he forced out the words, “The comrade major’s phone is tapped?” He glanced at Yanna, whose eyes were wider than her teacup.
    Roman held a finger to his lips.
    Vicktor gasped. “Why?”
    Roman’s smile vanished. “Listen to me, Vita. Everybody’s phone is tapped at HQ. Fourth Department knows all.”
    The Fourth Department. Internal Affairs. Shock turned him cold. Why would the Fourth be investigating Comrade Malenkov?
    “The call came in on an ancient number we’ve been monitoring for years.” Roman leaned forward for emphasis. “It’s been out of use for a decade, but the comrade major himself requested the tap.”
    Vicktor’s mind reeled. Why would the major ask to have one of his lines tapped?
    “Why hasn’t the number been used for so long?” Yanna rested her elbows on the table. “Shouldn’t it have been reassigned?”
    “It used to be Comrade Major Ishkov’s line. I guess they thought leaving it open might lead to his murderer.”
    “Murderer?” Vicktor said, and three heads turned from a nearby table.
    Roman shot him a cross look.
    “Sorry,” Vicktor mumbled. He schooled his volume. “Ishkov was one of the heavyweights, mentored under Khrushchev. I didn’t know he was murdered.” He pushed his coffee away, his appetite gone. “I thought he had a heart attack. I remember him. He was a legend. I never did figure out why he didn’t retire.”
    “They needed him around to keep the old spies in