roll on my side, face him. There’s enough light from the night-light in the hallway to see his face. “You could quit.”
He turns his head toward me. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Why? Maybe you—”
“They’d probably kill me. Or at the least destroy me.”
I watch his face carefully, the creases in his forehead, the eyes that look like they’re processing the suggestion, sorting through the consequences.
He turns his head back so that he’s looking up at the ceiling. “Matt Miller doesn’t exist without the SVR. If they take away my identity, where would I go? How would I live?”
I roll to my back, look up at the ceiling, too. “Then we could go to the FBI.” To Omar. Our friend, the man who wanted to allow sleepers to come out of the shadows and exchange information for immunity.
“And say what?”
“Tell them who you are. Give them information. Make a deal.” Even as I say them, the words sound hollow. The Bureau rejected Omar’s plan, swiftly and thoroughly. What’s to say they’d agree?
“I don’t have enough to give. I have nothing valuable to trade.”
“The Agency, then. You could offer to be a double.”
“Now? Look at the timing. Two decades of silence, and then I offer to work as a double now, when you’re closing in on me? They’d never believe I’m sincere.” He turns to face me. “Besides, I always said I’d never do that. If it were just me, fine. But I wouldn’t put you and the kids in danger like that. It’s too much of a risk.”
My heart aches. “Then I’ll quit. If you weren’t married to a CIA officer—”
“They know you wouldn’t. They know about our financial situation.”
There’s a strange feeling swirling around inside me, thinking of the Russians knowing the details of our lives, of our vulnerabilities. Of just how trapped we are. I try to ignore it, focus on the issue at hand. “Then I’ll get myself fired.”
“They’ll see through it. And anyway, then what? What if they order me to leave you?”
Our bedroom door creaks the smallest bit, and I look up to see Ella standing there, framed in the light from the hallway, hugging her ratty stuffed dragon close to her chest. “Can I come sleep in your bed?” she asks, then sniffles. She’s looking to Matt for an answer, but I’m the one who responds.
“Sure, sweetie.” Of course she can. She’s sick, isn’t she? And I’ve been so preoccupied with Matt, I haven’t paid her any attention, provided any comfort.
She climbs up, scoots in between us. Settles herself in, pulls the sheet up to her chin, adjusts it under the dragon’s chin, too. And then the room is quiet again. I stare at the ceiling, alone with my fears. I know Matt is doing the same. How could either of us sleep right now?
I feel Ella’s warmth beside me. I hear her breathing slow down, become softer. I look over at her, the little mouth open, the halo of baby-fine hair. She rustles in her sleep, sighs softly. I look away, back at the ceiling. I almost can’t bring myself to say the words, but I have to. “What if we all go to Russia?” I whisper.
“I couldn’t do that to you and the kids,” he answers quietly. “You’d never see your parents again. None of you know Russian. The education there…the opportunities…and Caleb. The medical care, the surgeries…He wouldn’t have the same life there.”
We lapse back into silence. I feel tears stinging my eyes at the helplessness of it all. How is there no other solution? How is this our only option?
“They’ll probably start an investigation,” he finally says. I roll back on my side so that I’m facing him again, looking at him over Ella, sandwiched between us. He turns to face me, too. “When you tell security. They’ll watch my comms. I don’t know how long. But we won’t be able to breathe another word of this. Anywhere, anytime.”
I picture our house bugged, a room full of agents listening to every word of what we say to the kids, to
He turns his head toward me. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Why? Maybe you—”
“They’d probably kill me. Or at the least destroy me.”
I watch his face carefully, the creases in his forehead, the eyes that look like they’re processing the suggestion, sorting through the consequences.
He turns his head back so that he’s looking up at the ceiling. “Matt Miller doesn’t exist without the SVR. If they take away my identity, where would I go? How would I live?”
I roll to my back, look up at the ceiling, too. “Then we could go to the FBI.” To Omar. Our friend, the man who wanted to allow sleepers to come out of the shadows and exchange information for immunity.
“And say what?”
“Tell them who you are. Give them information. Make a deal.” Even as I say them, the words sound hollow. The Bureau rejected Omar’s plan, swiftly and thoroughly. What’s to say they’d agree?
“I don’t have enough to give. I have nothing valuable to trade.”
“The Agency, then. You could offer to be a double.”
“Now? Look at the timing. Two decades of silence, and then I offer to work as a double now, when you’re closing in on me? They’d never believe I’m sincere.” He turns to face me. “Besides, I always said I’d never do that. If it were just me, fine. But I wouldn’t put you and the kids in danger like that. It’s too much of a risk.”
My heart aches. “Then I’ll quit. If you weren’t married to a CIA officer—”
“They know you wouldn’t. They know about our financial situation.”
There’s a strange feeling swirling around inside me, thinking of the Russians knowing the details of our lives, of our vulnerabilities. Of just how trapped we are. I try to ignore it, focus on the issue at hand. “Then I’ll get myself fired.”
“They’ll see through it. And anyway, then what? What if they order me to leave you?”
Our bedroom door creaks the smallest bit, and I look up to see Ella standing there, framed in the light from the hallway, hugging her ratty stuffed dragon close to her chest. “Can I come sleep in your bed?” she asks, then sniffles. She’s looking to Matt for an answer, but I’m the one who responds.
“Sure, sweetie.” Of course she can. She’s sick, isn’t she? And I’ve been so preoccupied with Matt, I haven’t paid her any attention, provided any comfort.
She climbs up, scoots in between us. Settles herself in, pulls the sheet up to her chin, adjusts it under the dragon’s chin, too. And then the room is quiet again. I stare at the ceiling, alone with my fears. I know Matt is doing the same. How could either of us sleep right now?
I feel Ella’s warmth beside me. I hear her breathing slow down, become softer. I look over at her, the little mouth open, the halo of baby-fine hair. She rustles in her sleep, sighs softly. I look away, back at the ceiling. I almost can’t bring myself to say the words, but I have to. “What if we all go to Russia?” I whisper.
“I couldn’t do that to you and the kids,” he answers quietly. “You’d never see your parents again. None of you know Russian. The education there…the opportunities…and Caleb. The medical care, the surgeries…He wouldn’t have the same life there.”
We lapse back into silence. I feel tears stinging my eyes at the helplessness of it all. How is there no other solution? How is this our only option?
“They’ll probably start an investigation,” he finally says. I roll back on my side so that I’m facing him again, looking at him over Ella, sandwiched between us. He turns to face me, too. “When you tell security. They’ll watch my comms. I don’t know how long. But we won’t be able to breathe another word of this. Anywhere, anytime.”
I picture our house bugged, a room full of agents listening to every word of what we say to the kids, to
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