Mikhail

27

"I need your help," I strode inside the dark room, lit only by the dozens of computer screens Anastasia and her team tirelessly worked around.

She peered curiously over the computer she had situated herself by, the usual makeup she wore off and comfortable pyjamas her choice of attire.

They had truly worked around the clock for the past two days.

"Have you got anything?" I grabbed a chair and sat myself beside her.

The codes on the bright screen were alien to me, and I continued to admire Anastasia's ability to both read and create them.

"Not yet," she sighed sadly, "whoever locked the drives is a genius."

"I'll ask Yves when I get a chance," I muttered, frowning at the unceasing flow of random sequences flashing down the screen, "do you think you'll crack it before Wellesley's party?"

"We have to," she offered me a tired smile, before rapidly typing something, the keys of the computer joining in the click with the rest of the women's.

"Mikhail knows what's inside," I told her, "he wouldn't tell me what exactly."

"We already know it's about Mogilevich's family," she snapped, but quickly apologised for her tone.

"You should take a break," I offered gently, glancing over at the equally exhausted women littered around the tightly packed room.

"We go in shifts," she brushed it off and returned to the subject at hand, still typing away, "I don't think it's too far fetched to assume Mikhail knows everything, with him being so close to that family, and all..."

It was no use brooding over him not having told me what he suspected these drives to contain.

"How is it with Vinnie?" I grinned, hoping to lighten her mood and bring some joy to the workload.

"He's been distant," she frowned, and my grin wiped away, "I'm sure he has a lot going on with the security and plans of the party, and such."

Vinnie's frustration with me seeped through into whatever he and Anastasia had going on. I still worried for her. Despite the man being a good friend of mine, his motives remained far too unclear. An unsettling gut feeling told me he had suddenly picked up an interest in Anastasia, who had obviously been pining after him for months, solely because of me and my choice to sleep with an enemy.

I hoped it wasn't so, but for once kept my mouth shut about the waste of time men were, knowing it would only add unnecessary baggage to her full plate.

"If you want to help," she suggested, "I need names of Mogilevich's family."

"I only know Peter..." I admitted, "why?"

"Consistencies in the code. To decipher the text," she murmured, brows furrowing at something she read on the screen, "I need coffee."

"I'll get you a cup," I quickly offered and stood up, "have you tried 'Mogilevich'?"

I felt stupid the moment I had dared think she had missed the most obvious repeated name in the text.

"It would be too easy. They used something else," she laughed lightly, unwavering focus scanning along every new undeciphered line, "before you go, what did you need help with?"

"Whenever you're done... with all of this," from lack of better term, I motioned over the busy and dim room, "I need you to find out everything about Mikhail."

"Like what?"

"Family name, dating history, criminal record," I listed as casually as possible, earning another bright laugh from her, "I'll send you his address and number."