“No offense taken,” I say. “I can get used to your directness, especially if it involves more compliments.”
Hanna laughs softly.
“Sugar?” I ask.
“Two. And milk, please.”
I add two lumps to the strong black tea and stir in some milk.
“I’ll take that,” Mina says, reaching for the cup. She blows on the tea before bringing the cup to Hanna’s lips.
After taking a sip with much difficulty, Hanna asks, “When are you moving in together?”
“Hanna,” Mina exclaims again.
“Actually,” I say, “we’re already living together.”
Hanna beams. “Is that what you came to tell me? I’m so pleased. Where are you staying?”
“For the moment, in Prague,” I reply. “After that, we’ll see. Our work may require frequent traveling.”
“You said you do consulting.” Hanna takes a bite of the cookie Mina offers. She chews and swallows before continuing. “What kind of consulting?”
“Human resources,” I say.
Mina clears her throat, looking everywhere but at Hanna.
“Since we have a few hours before we need to get back, how about a game of cards?” I suggest.
Hanna’s face lights up. “I love cards.”
“Careful,” Mina says, “she’ll clean out your coins.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have a whole wallet full of them.”
“You do?” Mina regards me suspiciously.
“A little bird might’ve told me to come prepared.” Or the nurses’ reports.
Either way, I’m here to please.
For the rest of the morning, we play poker. I let Hanna win, but not too obviously. We have lunch together in the dining hall. Afterward, while Hanna naps, Mina sits in the chair next to her bed, Hanna’s hand clasped in hers. When she wakes, we take her for a stroll in the gardens, then come back to the room and spend the rest of the afternoon sharing more tea and cake.
Throughout this, Hanna tells me stories of Mina’s childhood, little anecdotes I put away in my mind like guilty treasures, because I sure as hell don’t deserve this afternoon with its normal airs and the simple yet profound enjoyment of a family spending time together. I take it like I took what doesn’t belong to me, making it mine despite the nagging voice in the back of my head that’s questioning my integrity. I’ve never suffered from a conscience before, and it’s uncomfortable. The doubt started when Mina told me she’s in love with me. It grew a little when Anton confronted me, and after meeting Hanna, it’s an annoying but impossible-to-ignore notion.
It still doesn’t mean I’ll let Mina go. It only means I get to feel bad about it.
Fuck me. I’m developing a moral sense.
While Mina and Hanna are chatting, I remove myself to a corner to give them some time alone and use the opportunity to check my phone for news from Anton. The message is disappointing. Laszlo Kiss had already escaped his weekend residence by the time Anton got there. However, Anton questioned the staff, offering money as an incentive, and he may have a new lead with regards to Kiss’s whereabouts.
Our fugitive might have run to his cabin in the Swiss Alps.
This is a nuisance. I need to catch this fucker as soon as possible, before he slips completely through my fingers, and we have the job tomorrow. Perhaps I could spare Anton. He could fly to Switzerland in the morning and be back to fly us to our hideout in Africa by the time our job is finished. He’s only supposed to play bodyguard and drive our getaway car. It won’t delay us by more than a few seconds if I have to take the wheel.
Decision made, I promise myself to take it up with Anton later.
I’m about to darken the screen when I notice a message from our hackers. Making sure the women are still engrossed in their conversation, I open the encrypted email. It’s the classified information I requested on Gergo Nagy, the man who saved Mina from the attack.
I skim through the accolades and go to his military history. Known as The Chameleon, he’s a disguise expert, one of the best in the world. And he was in charge of training Mina.
A red flag pops up in my mind, intuition making the follicles in my nape tingle. Heartbeat picking up, I scroll to the attachments and open a photo.
Handsome guy, about my age. Strongly built.
There’s something about that mouth, though. It’s the way he smiles without actually smiling. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I lift my gaze to stare at Mina. She’s talking away, unaware of the cauldron of perturbation in my stomach.
What are you hiding, princess?
Then it hits me, and my heart nearly bursts through my ribcage.
30
Yan
Motherfucker.
The realization hits me so hard I have to turn my back on the women lest Mina sees something in my face. My hand shakes as I punch in the code to unlock a file and draw up the images from the clinic’s video feed, then zoom in on the face of the man Mina met in these very gardens, the ones we visited a mere hour ago with Hanna. Placing the photo of Mina’s companion and Gergo Nagy side by side, I study the image with growing fury.