The Good Spy by Jeffrey Layton Page B

railing gazing seaward. To ward off the afternoon chill he wore a jacket commandeered from the Sea Ray. Laura napped in the living room a few steps away. He allowed her to sit on the sofa by the fireplace, ankles hobbled.
    Admiring Laura’s intellect, Yuri remained mystified as to her choice in men. How could she have ever married an idiot like that?
    Touched by Laura’s adversity and recognizing her goodness, Yuri regretted involving her in his affairs. Nevertheless, she remained his prisoner. All of his training told him he couldn’t trust her. Or could he?
    Racked with decompression sickness and on the verge of passing out, he’d overtly threatened her only once with his dive knife. Following that crude warning, just the presence of the knife perpetuated the threat.
    Meanness was not in Yuri’s nature, and during the past several days he showed compassion where he could. Laura responded with obedience and recently expressed interest in his welfare, especially his injured leg.
    Yet, he remained cautious.
    Again, he wondered if he could trust her.
    She was an American citizen and therefore his enemy.
    What should he do?
    With lives of the crew at risk, he would eliminate the threat Laura represented if it came to that. His instincts, however, conveyed another message: If motivated, she could be useful.
    Now that Orlov and Krestyanova were working on the problem, real help would be on the way. Or would it? Yuri recognized that the Neva ’s fate eventually would be determined at the highest levels of the Russian government.
    If Moscow approved, a rescue team would be mobilizing soon. But lingering doubts remained. Because of those misgivings, he could not afford to dismiss any option.
    As Yuri shuffled back into the living room, he made a decision. If Moscow wavered, he would start working on Laura.
    * * *
    â€œWho the hell is that?” Ken Newman muttered to himself.
    He hid behind the sidewall of a vacant beach house just east of Laura’s rental.
    An hour earlier, he’d spotted Laura’s BMW in the driveway. After parking on the shoulder of the road, he walked to the home’s entry, a fresh bundle of flowers in hand. He almost knocked on the door, when he heard muffled voices: Laura talking with someone inside—a male.
    From his hideout, Ken had just watched the stranger step back inside the house. Despite the limp, he saw enough to set off alarms. Tall, lean, and fit with a good-looking face, the man contrasted sharply with Ken’s developing beer gut, double chin, and receding hairline.
    His imagination shifted into overdrive: “She’s cheating on me!”

CHAPTER 19
    A steady drizzle blanketed the dark and chilly Point Roberts peninsula. Ken Newman shrugged off the wetness from his parka as he walked along the water’s edge. He would have been shivering if he hadn’t traded his nylon windbreaker for the down-filled water-repellent REI jacket he kept in the Corvette.
    Ken approached the west side of the beach house. The lower floor blazed with light. He cautiously climbed over the collection of slime-coated logs and jagged rock riprap that fronted the house.
    On his hands and knees, Ken crawled across the drenched lawn. Within seconds, the knees and lower halves of his Levis were soaked. But Ken remained focused: Who’s that son of a bitch with my wife?
    Ken reached the side of the house, just below a living room window. He could hear an exchange between two people. Although muted by the window glazing, he recognized one of the voices. He stood up. Despite the glare from the interior lighting, he could see enough.
    â€œAh shit, I knew it,” he muttered under his breath.
    * * *
    Laura kneeled as she faced Yuri. He sat on the couch half-naked, having removed his trousers; a towel covered his groin. Laura worked her right hand up and down his lower left leg while applying a white cream squeezed from a plastic tube.
    â€œDo you feel anything