Bad people don’t like loose ends.
A prime minister with a bullet wound was a loose end, and that went away. The question I don’t want to ask is simple.
What about a dead cadet?
“Gracie!”
For a second, I’m sure I must be hearing things, but the word comes again.
“Gracie, wait.”
I tell myself that I’m wrong, that Alexei can’t be outside of Russia’s walls and chasing after me. But he is. I see him running up the hill, and a new kind of panic takes control.
“What are you doing out here? Are you crazy? You shouldn’t leave the embassy. Wait — how did you leave the embassy?”
We’re at the top of the hill, near the base of the cliffs and almost to Iran. I can see the mob and the blocked street below. I can actually hear the chanting, but Alexei only shrugs.
“You aren’t the only one who can climb the wall, you know.”
It’s hard to imagine Alexei climbing onto the ancient wall that circles the city, running along the top like a fugitive. Like me.
But Alexei is stepping closer, pulling me over to the cliffs, near the Iranian fence. It’s so calm here, almost like the night before didn’t happen. But even in the shadow of the fence I can see the black that rims Alexei’s eyes, the bruises on his jaw and the cuts that mar his skin.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say again.
Alexei shakes his head. “I had to come.”
“No. It’s not safe. We have to get you back before —”
“I came to say good-bye.”
It’s maybe the only thing he could have said that might stop me. My mind reels with all the things that he might mean. But there is one obvious answer: Alexei is returning to Moscow. Alexei is leaving. Again. And a part of me hopes he will stay away forever. Another part hopes he’ll take me with him.
“Oh. I see. Okay. I guess this time you’ll have to stay in Moscow for good.” I tell myself that it’s okay. Prudent. Totally for the best.
I’m in no way prepared for when Alexei says, “I will not go to Moscow.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that, in fact, the opposite is happening. I am renouncing my diplomatic status. I’m going to turn myself in.”
When I was twelve I followed Alexei and Jamie up the big wall that circles the city. I wanted to chase them and catch them and be just like them for a little while. And when I couldn’t listen to Jamie scold me for my foolishness any longer, I did something truly stupid: I jumped.
That is what this feels like.
Not the mind-blowing pain of a shattered leg, but the whoosh of air that leaves my lungs, the jarring crush of the earth rushing up to greet me. For a moment, I forget where I am. It’s like I’ll never breathe again.
“No,” I say, as if I can forbid it, stop it. “You can’t.”
Was this what the meeting at the embassy was about this morning? Was this the deal my grandfather brokered while I was out having the Scarred Man bind my wound? I want to run down the hill and yell at the mob that I’d be dead if it weren’t for Alexei. But I can’t say a thing.
Alexei puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “My father is holding a press conference denouncing my immunity even as we speak. They are readying an official vehicle to take me to the central police station in about an hour. It is not an arrest. I will answer their questions, that’s all. I have nothing to hide.”
It’s what I wanted at first, for the Russians to stop shielding themselves behind immunity. For the world to see that Alexei has nothing to hide. But in my mind, I hear the Scarred Man’s words — the Scarred Man’s warning. Terror fills me and I can’t let Alexei see it.
“This is insane!”
“No. It’s not. It is for the best. I can turn myself in, and there can be a full investigation, without all the politics.”
“This is Adria! There will always be politics!”
“Grace, my father is worried what all of this unrest will lead to. It can’t be good for diplomatic relations and —”
“Do you think I care about diplomatic relations?” I shout. “Well, I don’t, Alexei. And you shouldn’t either. Think about it.” I grab his shirt. I refuse to let him go. “None of the politicians care about what happened to Spence. Not what really happened. They just want to make this problem go away. Make you go away.”
I can feel Alexei’s heart pounding against his chest as I grip his shirt, holding him to me and this place and this time. I force him to look into my eyes. I have to make him see.
I finally understand what Dominic was really saying: Sometimes good people stand in the way of bad things. Sometimes good people get hurt. But maybe if I’m smart enough, strong enough, clever enough, this time I can find a way to stop it.
“You have to go back to Russia. Now! You have to get out of here.”
But Alexei is stepping back, shaking his head. “I will not run away.”
“You can’t go to jail, Alexei.”
A brief glint fills his eyes. “Are you worried about me?” he tries to tease, but this isn’t funny. None of it is funny.
So I yell, “Yes!”
Alexei is taken aback.
“They’re saying someone killed Spence, Alexei. They think someone murdered Spence, and now you are conveniently willing to take the blame for it. Someone wants you to take the blame for it.”
Alexei shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”