Skandal by Lindsay Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

to Cindy while she says it, like her permission would outweigh mine.
    “What are you people doing?” I ask. Guys , I chide myself. What are you guys doing.
    Donna stares at me, like it’s the first time anyone’s ever ignored her. “We’re practicing my skill. Cindy turns off her musical shield, and I ask her all kinds of uncomfortable questions.”
    “Not all kinds,” Cindy says sharply. “There’s still plenty you’ll never learn, young lady.”
    “Someday, I’ll get your real name out of you.” Donna grins.
    But Cindy’s studying my expression. “Donna, I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our exercise later. I’d like to work with Yulia privately for now.”
    Donna’s face twists, but she smoothes it out by the time Cindy looks back at her. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll just … go watch Marylou practice, or something.”
    Cindy beckons me to follow her through the maze of curtains. “Feeling better?” she asks, as we wind through the path.
    The room feels pressurized, closing in on me. My breath buzzes in my lungs as I search for the right words. “Um,” I say. I have mastered this English stalling technique, at least. “First, I must say something. I know you did not want me to see the photographs in that folder.”
    “No,” Cindy says, voice clipped. “I didn’t.” Her eyes keep darting back to the shoebox, as if she’s eager to end this discussion and resume our work.
    “But this is a problem.” I swallow through my tightly clenched throat. “In Russia, I could not trust my handlers, you see.”
    She taps her heel against the linoleum. Her smile is easing away, but she says nothing.
    “I do not want that life here. I want to be able to trust you. I want to work with you.” I look away. “Is this something we can do?”
    “I’m not trying to keep secrets from you.” Cindy holds her palm up like she’s shielding herself. “Our chief doesn’t want you to work directly on your mother’s case. He thinks it will be … easier for you, that way.”
    “But—but I want to help. Is this because of what I said in my hearing? That I’m not willing to hurt her.”
    “Honestly?” Cindy smiles. “Yes, that’s a part of it. It tells me two things about you. The first is that you have a compass in you still—some dividing line between right and wrong. That the KGB didn’t break that part of you.” She tilts her head as if she’s trying to see me from a better angle. “Though I already knew that about you.”
    I certainly don’t feel like someone with a good sense of right or wrong. From her cool tone, I’m not entirely sure she means it as a compliment, either. “And how do you know that?”
    Cindy looks down at her lap; her lips twitch, like she’s about to tell me, but then she shakes her head. “Another time.” We reach another alcove in the maze, where she plucks a shoebox off of a desk and holds it out to me. “But the second thing it tells me is that there’s only so far you’re willing to be pushed.”
    I breathe in slowly, so slow the cold air makes my teeth ache. I know what’s coming next.
    “I had the field team bring this in for you. We collected these items from the dead spies we’re investigating. We need to know who these people were and why they were sent here.”
    I sink into the nearest couch and balance the shoebox on my knees, trying to touch it as little as possible. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
    Cindy settles next to me, barely disturbing the couch. “Take your time.”
    My hands tingle from disuse. I’ve learned to keep them to myself in Papa’s house, where he and Valentin leave a faint trail of scrubber sound on everything they touch. When Winnie takes me to the Smithsonian museums, I’m too overwhelmed with her translation challenges to focus on the whispered conversations the tourists leave behind. Well, maybe I’ve read objects at the museum once or twice. A tour group had just gone through, and the guide had read