The Nearest Exit by Olen Steinhauer Read Free Book Online

had moved beyond argument by now. No evidence would sway him.
    Primakov turned to look at his son, though at first he focused past him to take in the milling tourists sprinkled throughout the cathedral. His focus drew back, and he frowned. “You look absolutely terrible, Misha. You stink.”
    “Perils of the job.”
    Primakov turned back to the painting. “My opinion? You’re probably right. This girl has nothing to do with anything, and her death will serve no one’s interests. Except, of course, your immediate supervisor’s. Who is he?”
    Even now, Primakov was trying to extract what he could. “Alan Drummond.”
    “He’s new, then? I thought Mendel was running it.”
    “Drummond says he’s gone now.”
    “And this Drummond is . . . ?”
    “A voice on the telephone.”
    Without turning to face him, Primakov said, “You didn’t check up on the voice on the telephone asking you to kill little girls?”
    Milo stared at the back of his father’s head. “Yale. Marines—Afghanistan for two years. Moved to the Company in ’05. Arms Control Intelligence Staff. Requested transfer to Congressional Affairs the next year. Can’t say how he got to Tourism. Friends, I suppose.”
    “Who’s he friends with?”
    “Don’t know, but it can’t be nobody.”
    Primakov swatted at his cheek. “It makes sense, then. Mendel’s been vetting you the slow way. Easy jobs. This Drummond takes over, and he wants to show his government sponsors what a big shot he is; he wants Tourism up and running. So he looks at your file and notices your daughter. Ideally, he’d find a six-year-old for you to take care of, but that’s a lot to ask anyone, even a Tourist. So he doubles the age and pulls out a random name.”
    “Then what I said stands. It’s finished. I’m not killing some kid just to clear my name with New York.”
    “I’d suggest you think about it first.”
    “I’ve been thinking for a week, Yevgeny.” He paused. “Mother won’t allow it.”
    The old man swiped at his cheek again. “Been hearing her voice again?”
    “Occasionally.”
    The fact that his son was listening to a dead woman didn’t faze Yevgeny Primakov. “You don’t have to kill her, you know. You said they want no traces, no body. Disappearance is enough.”
    “Hold her in a basement somewhere? Thanks for the help.”
    He turned to leave, but Primakov caught his arm, and they walked together down the southern aisle. “You’re strung out. Pills again?”
    “Not many.”
    “We need you healthy, Misha. I don’t want you buried yet. Neither does Tina. Have you talked to her?”
    Quick, elastic memories stretched into his head. That last meeting with his wife—November, the day after the Company came calling. Their counseling sessions had been circling around the same arguments, never moving forward. Trust—that was the issue. Tinahad learned too much about her husband. No one, she’d explained in front of the therapist, likes to feel like the fool in a relationship. Over the weeks he’d seen no sign of forgiveness, so he said yes to the Company, and the next day announced his new job with the vague descriptor
field work
. The therapist, noticing the sudden chill in the room, asked Tina if she had something she felt like saying. Tina stroked the corner of her long, sensual lips.
Well, I was going to suggest he move back in with Stef and me. That’s off the table now, isn’t it?
    The worst timing.
    “Misha?”
    The old man was grabbing his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the shadows.
    “No need to cry over it, son. She’s still your wife, and Stephanie will always be your daughter. There’s plenty of hope.”
    Milo wiped his cheeks dry, not even embarrassed anymore. “You don’t actually know that.”
    The old man grinned; his dentures were a blinding white. “Sure I do. Unlike you, I’ve been stopping in to visit my daughter-in-law and granddaughter.”
    This surprised him. “What did you say?”
    “The truth, of course.