The Mephisto Covenant Read Online Free PDF Page A

never blinking.
    “Mom,” she interrupted, “what’s going on? Who’s this?” Her mother didn’t answer. He sighed, setting his belly to jiggling. “I’m your uncle, Tim
    Shriver.” Couldn’t she have come home , had a shower, and faked being sick so she didn’t have to go to school? Why did a fat guy who claimed to be her uncle have to show up right now? “I don’t have an uncle.”
    “I’m married to your father’s sister, Melanie. Mike and I worked together for many years. Trust me, I’m your uncle.”
    No way Dad had a sister and never told her. “Why weren’t you at his funeral? If you worked together, shouldn’t you have been there? And if Dad had a sister, she’d have been there.” She wasn’t about to trust anyone at this point. “Who are you really?”
    “He tells the truth,” Mom said, now staring at the coffee table. In the background, the local news was on. “There was bad blood.”
    Moving farther into the room, Sasha stared at Tim. “If you worked with my dad at the same insurance company, did you go to Russia? Do you have any ideas about who killed him?”
    He darted a look at Mom, who was still focused on the table, motionless as a statue, before he looked again at her. “Mike didn’t work for an insurance company. He and I were with the CIA. Someone ratted him out.” Oh, God. Never, ever in her wildest imagination had she thought of something like that. “Mom, is it true? Did Dad really work for the CIA?”
    Her mother nodded, looking miserable. “It’s how we met, when I was still in Russia. The situation in Moscow was terrible for me. I wanted to live in the United States, but they said no, until Mikhael said he would help me.”
    “Why did they say no?”
    “Because of my family. My grandfather was head of the KGB under the Soviets. His son, my father, became almost as important in the new Russian government, but everything was chaos, lots of scrambling for position, and an old enemy accused him of selling arms to rebels in Chechnya. He was imprisoned for treason.”
    Sasha stared at her mother as if she were a stranger. Never in her whole life had she heard any of this. Mom had talked about her life in Russia as if it was idyllic. They had lived in the country, in the Ural Mountains, on a sheep farm. Mom’s mother had died when she was little and she had lived with her grandfather and father and a housekeeper named Marta. Was it all a lie?
    Did she know her parents at all? She felt betrayed, like a dupe.
    “I also worked for the Russian Security Council,” Mom said, “which is like our State Department, and it frustrated me as much as it did my father. There was so much corruption, so much suffering of the Russian people, all because of greed and power plays. Eventually, my father was exonerated, but he died not long after his release. I was bitter and wanted to leave, to move to the United States. Mikhael convinced the State Department I could be helpful to them, because of my background, so they hired me as an analyst, and I’m sure they hoped I’d pass along information as it came my way. Even after I arrived in the States, I continued friendships with people in Russia.”
    Sasha’s hands were clenched into fists, and her whole body was stiff with anxiety and fear. “Was it one of your friends who killed Dad?”
    If possible, her mother became more pale, looking up at Sasha as if she had cut her to the core. “No one knew he was with the CIA. He went to Russia as an insurance adjustor, and everyone believed his cover.”
    “Obviously, someone knew, Mom. All this time, you knew he died because he was a spy, but you never told me. Why? And why won’t you tell me who killed him?”
    “Why does it matter so much, Alexandra? He’s dead! Knowing who shot him won’t bring him back. You have to let it go!”
    “I want a name, Mom.”
    She deflated and looked down at the coffee table again, tears spilling across her cheeks. “A Russian operative. Yuri