He looked away for a moment, then turned back. “I will not stand in your way.”
She smiled and put her hand against his cheek. He leaned into her palm and closed his eyes. “I love you.” She pulled his hand up and kissed his palm. “I love you hard.”
Sergei and Sevastian sat down across from Sophie, looking wary. They seemed to know they’d reached the end of a very comfortable gig.
“It is time for me to return to America. Michael and I are well enough to travel, and our lives are in danger.
They looked at one another with resigned expressions. “We thought you might leave soon,” said Sergei. “We are sorry to see you go. You have been kind to us, and not just in business. You are a brave, honorable woman.”
“You have been kind to me as well. I owe you my life and the life of the man I love. I wish to repay you for this, and not just with money.” They looked blank, contemplating what could be better than cash. “Have either of you considered leaving the Soviet Republic? Perhaps you could start a new life in another country. My country.”
Sevastian’s eyes widened. “What you speak of is the dream of many young Soviet men. But few achieve this dream. Our two countries have an uneasy peace, and Soviet citizens cannot gain entry to America easily.”
Sophie pulled out the papers Maxwell had sent her. “It is easier when you know the right people. If you wish, you can fill out this documentation. In a week’s time, you’ll be able to follow me to the US where you will be granted entry.” She pushed the papers across the table. “You’re both young, strong men of character. You could have good lives in America.” They stared at her. “Or, if you prefer to stay here, I can provide considerable financial incentive for your continued silence about what happened here.”
Sergei looked down at the papers. “I would go to America. I have no wife, no children. The Commandant has brought dishonor to the Soviet Republic. I can do better.” He drew the papers across the table.
Sevastian followed his lead. “For me as well.”
“You’ve made the right choice,” she said, smiling. “You won’t regret this.”
After the team returned for the night, Sophie had a long, heated meeting with the executive committee.
“He’s a living witness to the atrocities in Parnaas, as are you,” urged one of the more fiery members of the team. “We can’t pass this opportunity up. I say we leak Nariovsky-Trent’s story to the media along with your arrival time in New York, and take advantage of the coverage. We’ll get massive exposure.”
Sophie shook her head. “I can’t agree to that. He’s a volatile individual at the best of times, and right now, he’s a walking powder keg. The last thing he needs is a media scrum when he clears immigration.”
“You’re allowing your personal feelings to cloud your professional judgment.”
“I’m no longer here in a professional capacity. I stepped down as the leader of the coalition days ago. I’m here on Michael’s behalf.” She glared around the table. “I recognize what he represents to the coalition; I’d be blind if I didn’t. But he’s simply not ready for the media. And I won’t see him turned into a tool for anyone, even my own organization and causes.”
“Stop for a moment, everyone,” the Rev interjected, holding up his hands. “Can I suggest a compromise?” Sophie gestured for him to go ahead. “What about after you get home? Maybe a week or so. Allow you both to get your feet under you, have Michael visit his family. Then we’ll do a press release and conduct a few interviews under more controlled circumstances.”
She pursed her lips. It sounded like a reasonable compromise. “I can live with that. I can float it to Michael, or you can pitch it to him yourselves. Your choice.” Sophie smiled. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Perhaps one of you would like to try media training him this evening?” Nobody volunteered, and a lot of people couldn’t look her in the eye all of a sudden. Michael’s acid tongue was legend already. “That’s what I thought. Look, I’ll talk to him tonight, and I’ll give you his answer before we leave. Will that work?”
“Yeah, it works.” The Rev nodded to Will, who stood up.
“Sophie,” Will said, “you made this happen. The coalition, this mission, everything. I know we’ll all face some pretty heady things in our careers yet to come, but it’s hard to imagine a bigger one than this.” She saw heads nodding around the table. “We have some ideas on how to recognize you officially, but those will come later. Right now, we wanted to thank you personally for having the guts to pull this off.”
They went around the table, each person saying thank you and sharing an anecdote, something special they appreciated. It was intensely embarrassing and emotional.