Eternal Empire by Alec Nevala-Lee Page A

said. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
    As they headed for the door, Cornwall approached. She looked tired, as she often did these days. “Wolfe, they had no right to be so hard on you. Everyone at the agency respects what you’ve done.”
    â€œI appreciate that,” Wolfe said, meaning it, although much was also being left unspoken. Cornwall, she knew, had hoped to be promoted to director general, only to find herself tainted by association with the Garber scandal. Wolfe wanted to say something more, but she contented herself with a nod goodbye as Asthana took her arm and led her gently away.
    An hour later, Wolfe found herself at a crowded pub in Vauxhall, staring at the few amber inches remaining in her pint glass. In recent months, she had begun to drink more than before, which reminded her of the old joke about why you should always take two Mormons on a fishing trip. Bring only one, the punch line said, and he’ll drink all your beer.
    Next to her, Asthana was halfway through another monologue about her wedding table cards when she trailed off, sensing that Wolfe wasn’t listening. “Cheer up. They were bound to knock you down a little. It doesn’t look great for the agency when its star officer isn’t even British.”
    Wolfe managed to smile. “Sometimes I wish Powell were still here. He knew how to ignore the political side.”
    Finishing her beer, Wolfe ordered another. Asthana was watching her with a mixture of amusement and friendly concern. “I haven’t talked to Powell in a long time. You still see him?”
    â€œOccasionally,” Wolfe said. “He knows more about the ties between intelligence and organized crime than I ever will, and we sometimes trade ideas over the phone, but we’ve fallen out of touch since he joined Cheshire.”
    Asthana shook her head. “I still think he was a fool to leave, especially given the timing. It looked like they were buying him off.”
    â€œI know.” Wolfe accepted her fresh pint with a nod. “I understand why he did it, but he refused to see what people would think. He’s always been like this, but it got worse after the crash. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve heard.” She looked glumly into her glass. “Maybe it’s better that he’s gone.”
    Asthana lifted her daiquiri. “That’s doesn’t seem fair. What’s he really done, then?”
    Wolfe was about to avoid the question, then heard herself speak before she could help it. “You know Vasily Tarkovsky?”
    Her partner frowned. “The oligarch. He’s negotiating for some kind of oil venture?”
    Wolfe nodded. “Cheshire is advising on the deal. Powell has been looking into Tarkovsky’s activities. Most of it is the standard background check. But he’s also planted a source on Tarkovsky’s staff.”
    Asthana set down her glass. “What kind of source are we talking about?”
    â€œSomeone passing him files under the table. Powell told me yesterday. He wanted my advice about how far to trust her. His source, I mean.” Wolfe took another big sip. After the farce of the hearing, which had left her feeling more isolated than ever, she was suddenly eager to share the misgivings she had been bottling up inside. “You see, it’s someone we both know. Someone with no business being involved. I told him this, but I don’t think he agrees.”
    Asthana had absorbed this information with what looked like mounting dismay. “Rachel, listen to me. If this comes out, forget the business angle. We’re talking about a major diplomatic scandal. Who’s his source, anyway?”
    Wolfe belatedly realized that she’d had too much to drink, but it was too late to backpedal now. “It’s the girl from the Archvadze case. I’ve told you about her before. Maddy Blume—”
    She was about to say more when her