Page 118 of The Oligarch's Daughter

But Mr. Frost wasn’t done. “Why did you not inform us you were going?”

“Frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d find anything useful.”

“Yet you wanted to dig around in old files and waste more than half a workday.”

Paul shrugged. What could he say anyway?

Frost changed the subject: “You are a friend of Chadwick Forrester, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever talked with you about his dissatisfaction with our firm?”

“Never.” Why, Paul wondered, was he asking? What did they have on Chad?

Frost nodded, his eyes drifting off. He was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he spoke. “Your work on BAE Systems was extremely profitable. You turned fifty million dollars into two hundred and twenty-three million dollars. That’s a very big hit for the firm. I congratulate you.”

“Thank you.”

“You are a valuable employee. Not just because you are Mr. Galkin’s son-in-law. But you can’t go off on your own whim, looking into things that excite your curiosity. You have to run such projects by me first. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“I understand you speak Russian.”

“Barely. I took two years of it in college.”

“You probably know a fair amount of Russian slang.”

“Some.”

“It’s not an easy language for Americans to learn. But there’s a very useful Russian slang word you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“Pochemuchka.”

Paul repeated it, stumbling over it, a tricky little Russian word.Pochemuchka. “And what does it mean?”

“It means someone who asks too many questions. An overly curious person. A busybody. It comes from the title of a Soviet-era children’s book whose hero, Alyosha Pochemuchka, is never satisfied with the answers he gets. When you say it of a child, it’s a term of endearment. But not with adults. It’s not an endearment.”

“Got it,” Paul said, and he turned to go. Then, thinking of something, he turned back around. “So what happens to Alyosha Pochemuchka? In the book, I mean.”

There was a long pause. Paul could tell that Eugene Frost was debating how to reply. Finally, he spoke, slowly, deliberately. “This was a Soviet-era children’s book. One hundred percent Soviet propaganda. What do youthinkhappened to the boy who asked too many questions in the old Soviet Union?”

“Understood,” Paul said simply as he turned and left the office.

78

In the late afternoon, he texted Special Agent Mark Addison and told him he’d found something of great importance. Addison had assured Paul that it was safe to text him on the office Wi-Fi as long as he used Signal.

Addison replied at once.Can you meet at 9 tonite?

Paul thought for a moment. He couldn’t stay late at work again. He decided to go home at the regular time, have a quick dinner with Tatyana, tell her he had to go back to the office for an hour or so. He’d meet Addison at nine, hand him the flash drive, and go back home.

When he got home, Tatyana was cuddling Pushkin as she looked at photos on her computer. “Oh, I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Uh-oh,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. He was wary: a surprise? Since Moscow, he’d been feeling strangely awkward around her, like some kind of impostor. A traitor, to be more precise. He was betraying her father; there was no way around it.