The Russian's Greed

kidding me?”
“You should maybe tryit. You might be surprised with both flavor and texture.”
“Yeah, and I mightthrow up. I think I’m sticking with something a little lessdisgusting.”
“We will start withappetizer,” Anya said.
Gwynn slid her fingerup the page and shivered. “Oh, my God. Cow feet and chicken. Howcan that even be a thing, let alone an appetizer? There’s somethingseriously wrong with anybody who eats cow feet. I can’t evenimagine what part of the chicken comes with it.”
Anya tried not tolaugh. The night’s plan of action required that she be distraught,angry, and brokenhearted. “Maybe for you, just a salad and noappetizer.”
She let her fingerslide down Gwynn’s menu until it reached the salad list. Gwynnactually gagged when she read cod liver with lettuce, eggs, andonion. “No wonder you wanted to be an American so badly. Nobodyeats cod liver.”
Their waitress arrivedand looked as if she could’ve been Miss Russia or right off thepages of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Anya ordered for them inflawless Russian, just loud enough for Volkov to hear. When he lookedup to meet Anya’s eyes, she gave him a polite, slightly flirtatioussmile. He didn’t return her smile, but instead offered a barelyperceptible nod and then didn’t look away.
“I swear to you,Anya, if you ordered me something nasty, I’m catching the nexttrain back to D.C., and you’re on your own.”
She let her eyes driftaway from Volkov’s. “I ordered for you mussels in white winesauce, pork-stuffed dumplings, and grilled Norwegian salmon.”
“Thank you. Now,please tell me you’re not having veal tongue or cow’s feet. Cowsdon’t even have feet. They have hooves.”
“I am havingbuzhenina. Is roasted pork, smoked eel salad, and sausage with sourcabbage.”
Gwynn sighed. “Theeel sounds disgusting, but I might want a bite of the buzhenina.”
The appetizers arrived,followed shortly by the salad and dumplings. Anya stayed in characterand shot occasional glances toward Volkov. To her delight, he wasstaring back at her every time she looked up.
The main coursesarrived, and the portions were enormous.
“I’ll never be ableto eat all of this,” Gwynn said.
Anya whispered, “Donot worry. We will not be here long enough to finish. It is time tocall in Johnny-Mac.”

7
PREDSTAVLENIYE
(THEPERFORMANCE)
Gwynn thumbed thesend button on her phone, launching a two-word text message toSpecial Agent Johnathon McIntyre.
Outside the restaurant,Johnny-Mac felt the vibration and pulled his phone from his pocket.The screen displayed the message he’d been waiting to see for overan hour:
It’s Showtime!
Four minutes later, hewaded through the sea of tables inside the Russian restaurant. Whenhe spotted Special Agent Gwynn Davis, he moved quickly to the tableand faced Anya with Gwynn at his right hip.
Anya barked in heavilyaccented English. “How dare you come to table. You are worthless,terrible little child. You will leave now!”
Johnny-Mac put on anOscar-worthy performance. “After everything I’ve done for you,I’ll not be treated this way. You’re an ungrateful, selfishbitch.”
Anya wasn’t expectinghis words to sting, but it appeared he was blending his actualfeelings with his performance. She took a few seconds to brush offthe reality in his tone, then turned to Gwynn with an outstretchedhand. “Give to me ring! Give to me!”
Gwynn suddenly felt theheat of the moment and almost believed it was far more than acting.She fumbled through her bag and pulled out the worthless ring.
Anya yanked it from herhand and held it up in Johnny-Mac’s face. “This is what you callbeing good to me? Huh? This is worthless piece of trash. Is not realdiamond! Did you think the poor Russian girl was too dumb to knowdifference? Is this what you really think of me?”
Agent McIntyre shoved afinger into her face. “Look at you. You’re making a fool ofyourself in front of all these people.”
“I am no fool!” sheroared. “If I were fool, I would believe your lies, but I amfinished with you. Get out of my face, and YA bol'she ne khochutebya videt’, ublyudok!”
The switch to angryRussian had been part of Anya’s plan all along, but she didn’texpect the raw emotion that came along with it. Her pulse pounded inher neck as her face turned blood red. She shoved the ring towardJohnny-Mac’s face again. “This is what I think of you and yourphony ring!” She hurled the piece of jewelry across the room,bouncing it off the wall behind Viktor Volkov, who’d been watchingthe show with great interest. From the corner of her eye, she sawVolkov lift the ring from the floor and shove it into his pocket.
Anya rose from her seatand screamed, “You are dead to me!” Before she finished theverbal attack, she landed an open-hand slap on Johnny-Mac’s rightcheek, sending him stepping away after the blow.
He lunged for her andgrabbed her wrist. The heated exchange took a dark turn as theagent’s grip dug into Anya’s flesh. She raised a foot inpreparation to send a heel kick crashing into his shin—or perhapshis knee—but she never delivered the blow. Instead, Viktor Volkovlaced his powerful right arm around Johnny-Mac’s neck from behindand lifted him from his feet. With the agent kicking and flailing,the beefy Russian dragged him through the kitchen and deposited himin the alley behind the restaurant.
Ninety seconds later,Volkov returned to the dining room and lifted his jacket from thechair beside his table. As he slid an arm back into the jacket, asoft round of applause rose from the room.
Anya looked up andsaid, “Spasibo.”
Volkov motioned for awaitress, and she scampered to his side. He pointed toward Anya’stable. “Move their meal to my table. They will be sitting with mefor the rest of the evening.”
His Russian accent wasunmistakable, but a gentleness emanated through his words thatneither Gwynn nor Anya expected. The waitress moved their plates andpulled a pair of chairs to Volkov’s table.
Anya and Gwynn joinedthe man as Anya whispered, “I told you he would take bait and alsoswallow hook.”
“I’m sorry yourdinner was ruined by that man, but I assure you he will not botheryou again. I am Viktor Volkov.”
Anya wiped a feignedtear from her face. “Did you hurt him?”
Viktor narrowed hiseyes. “Did you want me to hurt him?”
She nodded, a look ofdesperation on her face.
“I was a little roughwith him, but I did not hurt him . . . this time.