Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

ever-so-slightly to a paunch. He waved his left hand at
them—the artificial one that replaced the natural one he’d lost
years ago. He had a broad smile that even his neatly-trimmed full
beard couldn’t conceal.
    “Yet another stunning performance!” Avram
exclaimed. “A few hundred more like that and I’ll be forced to
consider giving you a raise.”
    “Such compliments will turn a girl’s head,”
Eva said with a drawl.
    “I only said I’d consider it,” Avram replied.
Then his face turned suddenly serious. Not the serious of
discussing the show’s management, which he never took lightly; this
was a somber expression that the dancers seldom saw on his
features, and it warned them that something unusual was happening.
“Could you both come to my office now?”
    “Is there time for a shower first?” Judah
asked.
    “No,” the older man said. “There’s someone I
want you to meet … and I don’t think she’ll be offended by a bit of shvitzing .”
     
     
CHAPTER 3
     
Missions
     
     
    Avram Bar Nahum led them back to the room
that served as the road manager’s office in this theater. It was
comparatively small and sparsely furnished, but the Ville’s manager
spent little time in it anyway. There was just a basic desk with
data ports, a comfortable swivel chair for the manager and two
other less comfortable chairs for visitors.
    One of the chairs was already occupied as
they entered. The woman who’d been sitting there automatically
rose. “Sit, sit,” Avram said quickly, gesturing for her to return
to the chair. “ Kinder , I’d like you to meet Lady Hasina
Wettig.”
    Hasina Wettig was a slender black woman, a
full head taller than Eva, with short black hair and brown eyes
brimming with intelligence. Her lovely face was highlighted by
prominent cheekbones and an unlined forehead. Her business suit was
stylish and mostly conservative navy blue, though she did have an
accent of bright red in her scarf. Her only jewelry was a pair of
discreet golden earrings. Her hands had long, narrow fingers with
short nails—the hands of someone who didn’t do manual labor but who
also didn’t lounge idly about. She looked no older than twenty-one
or twenty-two.
    Eva raised an eyebrow. “Daughter of Knyaz
Nkosi, one assumes.”
    Hasina gave a bit of a smile as she nodded.
“One assumes correctly.”
    “My father’s told us a lot about your
father,” Judah said.
    “Indeed? He wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
Her voice was coolly neutral, neither angry nor accusatory. But it
was also not pleased.
    “Eva, why don’t you sit over there?” Avram
said quickly, gesturing to the empty chair beside Lady Hasina.
“Judah, you can bring in another chair from outside—”
    “It’s crowded enough in here,” Judah said.
“I’m comfortable standing.”
    The young dvoryanka looked over at Judah.
“Exactly what did your father tell you?”
    “That he and my mother and my uncles and Aunt
Marnina all worked as secret agents while your father was Commissar
of ISIS.”
    “Apparently not so secret.” Hasina looked
back to Avram. “This was not supposed to be made common
knowledge.”
    “It hasn’t been,” the older man said calmly.
“You don’t know about show business folk.”
    “Educate me,” Hasina said crisply.
    Eva cut her uncle off before he could say
anything further. “We jabber and gossip backstage. We’ll stab our
best friends in the back—figuratively—for a better spot on the
bill. I’ve never been to the imperial court; I’ve heard the
infighting gets pretty ferocious there. They have nothing on us,
believe me.
    “But what belongs backstage stays backstage. Period. Nothing goes out front except what we want to
show them. And nobody, not even ISIS, controls that more carefully
than we do.”
    “Over the years Mikkel and I have told the
company just about everything we did,” Avram said. “We had to
explain what happened to Eva’s parents and Judah’s mother. I had to
explain