Free Slingshot: A Spycatcher Novel by Matthew Dunn Page A

moved to the sofa and sat. “What’s your interest in Lenka?”
    “I’m a private investigator and have been instructed by a client to check on the welfare of Mr. Yevtushenko. My client’s concerned that he’s done something stupid and is in danger. He’s run away from his work and Russia.”
    “Who’s your client?”
    “I’m not allowed to say. It’s sensitive.”
    “A British private investigator in Minsk, looking for a Russian diplomat, and with a client who can’t be named?” Alina smiled. “I’m not stupid.”
    “I’m sure you’re not and will therefore realize that some things are best left unsaid.”
    Alina shook her head. “Perhaps, but I have no reason to help you or the people you represent.”
    Will studied her. Suzy was right. Alina certainly had above-average looks. She was tall for a woman and wore delicately applied makeup, beige cords, and an elegant V-neck sweater that looked nothing like the dowdy clothing he’d expected her to be in. “You and your child live here alone?”
    “Just us.”
    “Do you work?”
    “I teach poetry, part time at one of the local universities. The campus has a nursery so it suits me.” She looked around, then locked her gaze on Will, her expression now hostile. “If you’re thinking of offering me British money, forget it. I might not live in the nicest place, but we manage just fine.”
    “You’re sure about that?” Will held her gaze, then sighed. “I’m not here to offer you money. Honestly, I think Lenka might be out of his depth. I’m here to help him.”
    “The British are here to help a Russian man? Are you sure about that?”
    Will leaned forward. “Has anyone else been here to speak to you?”
    Alina shrugged and looked away.
    “Belarusians? Perhaps the Russians?” He lowered his voice. “Yes, I’m sure the Russians have been here, haven’t they?”
    She returned her attention to him. “You’re not worried about my Yevtushenko. He’s done something or got something that you want.”
    “Do you know what that might be?”
    “He never spoke to me about his work.”
    “Did the Russians tell you what it might be?”
    “I didn’t say they were here.”
    “Nor did you deny it.”
    A clock chimed. Will looked at it—a small silver antique carriage clock with beautiful engravings. He frowned, then said, “We are looking for something. And if we can get that something, there is every hope that we can extract Lenka from men who he shouldn’t be mixing with.”
    “And then what? Put him in a cell and beat him?”
    “No. Bring him to you.”
    Alina waved her hand dismissively before placing it against a necklace that matched her earrings. It had to be a replica, but could easily have been mistaken for a genuine diamond pendant.
    “You don’t love him anymore?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Then why wouldn’t you want to see him again?”
    “When did I say . . . ?” Her expression became hostile again. “I don’t know where he is, I haven’t heard from him, and I’ve no desire to help a British stranger.” She spat, “You haven’t even told me your name.”
    “Even if I did, would it be of any value to you?”
    “It would be a lie.”
    “Exactly.”
    She breathed deeply while staring at him, her hand falling to the tatty sofa arm. “You’ve wasted your time.”
    Will looked at the clock again and saw that next to it were three books containing the works of the Russian poets Nikolay Gumilyov, Osip Mandelstam, and Ivan Krylov. Clad in leather binding, they looked as though they’d been professionally restored. They were wrapped with silk ties that had been knotted in bows. He smiled. “He bought you things, didn’t he?”
    Alina frowned.
    “Expensive things.”
    She said nothing.
    “Clothes, French makeup, real diamond jewelry, a timepiece, books, no doubt other things.” His smile vanished as he looked at her. “I wonder how he got the money to pay for them.”
    Silence.
    “Because I can’t imagine