Scorpion Winter by Andrew Kaplan

. . .” He took out the handheld electronic sweep unit. “Do you mind?”
    â€œWe should do the same to you,” Kozhanovskiy said. “Go ahead.”
    As Scorpion scanned for bugs, Iryna poured the tea into a stekans— a glass with a metal base and handle. When he completed the scan, he sat down. Iryna gestured that he should help himself to sugar, jam, or honey, and passed him a plate with horishke pastries and bublyky , almond cookies.
    â€œOf course, we called Reuters in London,” Kozhanovskiy said, pouring himself more tea and mixing in a teaspoon of jam. “It seems you are who you say you are.”
    â€œNice to know,” Scorpion said, thinking it was a good thing Shaefer had followed up. But the cover was thin, very thin.
    â€œIryna has briefed me. Firstly, has anyone seen Alyona? None of our people seems to know anything.”
    â€œShe was at the Black Cat, the café on Andriyivsky Uzviz, this morning. She was supposed to be in a play but hadn’t shown for last night’s performance. She told her fellow actors she couldn’t be in the play anymore.”
    â€œThey were concerned?” Kozhanovskiy asked.
    â€œWith good reason. Apparently, her boyfriend—this Sirhiy Pyatov—is abusive. She was afraid of him. She told them they were mixed up in something.”
    â€œIsn’t he with the campaign?” Kozhanovskiy turned to Iryna.
    She nodded. “Dirty tricks.”
    â€œLike what?” Scorpion asked.
    â€œYou have to understand, this is self-defense,” Kozhanovskiy said, lighting a Marlboro Menthol. “The Cherkesov campaign paid someone to publish a story in Sevodnya that claimed I looted the treasury when I was Minister of Finance. Among other things, they’ve accused us of running a heroin ring out of our campaign headquarters, that I’m a puppet for the Americans, and even that I’ve fathered a secret love child with Iryna!”
    â€œThat’s a better story than the assassination. Is it true?” Scorpion said.
    Iryna looked directly at Scorpion. “I work with Viktor Ivanovych. I don’t do it with my legs spread. Gospadi! To be taken seriously as a woman in this country isn’t so simple.”
    â€œIryna is a public figure in our country.” Kozhanovskiy said. “And because she’s beautiful, she gets more than her share of media attention, which is helpful to us. But trust me, her brain is more valuable to us than her looks.”
    â€œSo what kind of dirty tricks did Pyatov do?” Scorpion asked Iryna.
    â€œHe created a false Facebook page supposedly of one of Cherkesov’s officials named Makuch,” she said. “It implied that Makuch is a pedophile. Pyatov also put out leaflets in Donetsk claiming Cherkesov is a homosexual. They put Photoshopped pictures of him in a woman’s pink panties and bra on the Internet,” a ghost of a smile on her lips. “He sent out notices in Kharkov oblast, an area we expect to go overwhelmingly for Cherkesov. They were supposedly from the Central Election Commission, telling people they hadn’t registered properly and were not eligible to vote.” She shrugged. “Things like that. They do the same to us.”
    â€œWhat else can you tell me about Pyatov?”
    â€œIn the beginning, he was useful, as I said. Then he stopped showing up. No one’s seen him in two or three weeks.”
    â€œAnd neither of you has heard anything about an assassination plot?”
    â€œNot till you showed up,” Iryna said. She looked hard at Scorpion. “What’s happened to Alyona? She’s only been missing for a few hours. What aren’t you telling me?”
    She was good, Scorpion thought. Whoever judged her just on her looks underestimated her. She had that extraordinary combination of being cool, smart, and sharp that the Russians call krutoy .
    â€œShe’s probably dead,” he said,