Page 45 of Code Name: Harbor

I take a breath. “I’ve spent many years being very careful about what I know about Anatoli Voronin. The arrangement I have with him has kept me and my crew alive. They’re like family to me and I have to protect them.”

Josie’s expression is sympathetic. “I completely understand that. I suppose you’re not going to tell me exactly what you and your crew do for a living, are you?”

I angle my head, my eyes censuring. “You know I won’t. You know I can’t. You work for people who hunt people like me down.”

Josie flinches, as that’s the closest I’ve come to admitting what I am.

“I don’t get it, Finn,” she says, reaching to take my hand. “You own a successful art gallery. Why do you need to—”

I place my fingertips over her lips to quiet her. “I own an art gallery, Josie. That’s all you need to know, okay?”

She stares at me a long while before pulling my hand away from her mouth. She nods, voice soft and brittle at the same time. “Okay.”

“Your people and the FBI know I picked you up out of the water, but that’s all the involvement I want them to think I have in this.”

“They’re going to want to interview you,” she reminds me.

“I know, and that’s fine. I’ll avoid them as long as possible, but I’m not going to give them anything, Josie. They’ll only see the successful businessman.” I lean forward, brush a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “But there’s something I need you to know first.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t do what Voronin does. You understand that, right? I don’t traffic humans. I don’t kill people.”

“You do victimless crime, right?” she says, and I hear the tinge of disapproval laced with sarcasm.

I give her another chastising look. “Come on, Josie. We both know there’s no such thing as a victimless crime, but I can promise you that I don’t physically hurt people.”

“I know that,” she says quickly, hands going to my thighs to lean into me so that our faces are close together. Her eyes flick back and forth between mine. “I don’t know what you do, Finn, but I know you don’t hurt people. You saved me, and that told me everything I need to know about you.”

I tip my forehead to rest against hers for a moment before pulling back. “What I’m about to give you is going to break the arrangement I have with Voronin, which is basically for us to give each other wide berths. I’m prepared for that. I made that decision last night.”

“Finn.”

“Let me finish.”

She nods.

“What I’m asking you for is your word that my name is never associated with what I’m going to give you. Not to Agent Royce. Not to your colleagues, your family, your friends. Not now and not later. If anyone asks you where your information came from, you say you have a confidential source. I need you to do that so that my people are protected.”

“Of course I won’t mention you,” she says reassuringly. “You have my word and I knew that from the start when we made our deal. I’ll take any bit of info that will point me in the right direction. That’s all I want.”

Relief courses through me and I trust her promise. I don’t know why I do, but I’m guessing after you’re repetitively balls deep in a woman, you get a glimpse of her soul. That’s the only explanation for the gut instinct that Josie is trustworthy.

“Then let me tell you what I think will help you nab Mikhail, which will give you the tie to Voronin.”

I grab a pad of paper and a pen, sliding it over to her, and proceed to give her all the knowledge I’ve accumulated over the years from observing Voronin’s crews on the water and through mutual underground contacts. I tell her about a warehouse in the Georgetown industrial district that I believe is used for “cargo” that must sit for more than a day before it’s distributed.

I tell her about a small Russian bakery on a side street in Bellevue where I’ve seen Mikhail and Voronin meeting at times and I give her a description of all the vessels I’ve seen on the waters.

“Voronin uses another guy like Mikhail. His name’s Yevgeny Karpov and he’s based out of Vancouver. Runs what looks on paper like a high-end seafood import business, but he’s been in the pipeline with Voronin for a few years.”

I give her all my knowledge of Karpov’s vessel patterns as well. “The bureau hits him and Voronin loses his Canadian feed, but he won’t have the real dirt the way Mikhail does.”

I let her sit with it for a beat, then I tell her the harder thing.

“There are people inside law enforcement who feed Voronin.”

“The FBI suspected that already. How do you know?”