The Trip

"Greg! Kestrel's here," my sister calls after she hugs me.

"Oh good. We were worried you might not make it, with the snowstorm and all."

The snow was falling heavy now, laying a blanket of white over the world. My sister's husband, Greg, meanders out of the kitchen with a kind smile on his face. It's late, and both he and my sister have donned their pajamas. My sister wraps an arm around my shoulders, "Oh come in, come in. It's freezing!"

"Let me grab your bag, Kestrel."

"Thanks Greg. Good to see you."

He nods and takes my luggage up the stairs. My sister guides me to the kitchen table where two cups of hot cider still sit, steaming. She gestures towards the nearest chair, "Take a seat, honey, would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, the cider looks wonderful."

"You've always had a soft spot for it. This is homemade, from Greg's brother. Just be careful, it'll spoil you!"

I chuckle softly while she pours me a cup. She brings it over, trying not to spill. She sits across from me with a sigh, "Oh Kestrel, it's so good to have you here."

"Thank you for having me. It's good to be back."

"So, how was it?"

"Was what?"

"The trip! My goodness, what else would I be asking about?"

Uneasiness creeps up my spine, "Right, of course, my trip. It was good."

"Kestrel Kathryn Waller, don't give me that! You went all the way to Russia for six months. Now I thought it was something for a southern girl to move to Vermont, and here my own sister bested me by going to Russia!"

"Well honestly Laney, I just got off a plane a few hours ago and have been in the car driving in a snow storm for at least two of those. I'm tired."

The words came out harsher than I meant them to. She doesn't even blink, "There's my Kessie, she always gets cranky when she's tired. I know I should let you be, but I was just too excited. Did you call Mama yet?"

"Yeah, I did. She sounds good. Kept talking about her new cat, Peaches."

"Oh, that cat. Such a stinker! Did she tell you about how it climbed up onto the counter and started drinking the iced tea?"

"Right out of the pitcher."

"Right outta the pitcher! Why, if my cat did that, I would be madder than a rattlesnake!"

"Or a Russian mafia member," I mumble.

"What was that Kestrel?"

"Nothing! Just agreeing with you."

She stops and folds her hands on the table, "Kestrel, something just doesn't seem right with you. What happened over there?"

"Like I said, I'm just tired. It was a long flight."

"Yeah, but long flights don't cause people to lose their accents."

A pause, "You caught that..."

"Now I know I didn't go to a fancy police academy like you, but I'm not deaf. I can tell when my sister's voice isn't her own. At first I thought it was the fact that you were speaking another language for six months, but you didn't have a strong Russian roll. It sounded more, British."

"Laney, I..."

"Just hold on a minute, I want the truth. You had all of us in a fit because you upped and left with less than two weeks notice. Mama almost kicked the bucket twice because of you. We were all under the impression that this was a cultural study, to finish off a credit. Were you even in Russia?"

"Well if you let me explain..."

"My God, did you go to England and hook up with some guy? Is that why you came back a little bit early? Oh Lord, are you pregnant?"

"For crying out loud, Laney! Would you shut up for like, two minutes? To answer your question, yes, I was in Russia. I can speak fluent Russian with the accent too. I don't have our southern accent anymore because it was ironed out of me in training. Agatha Lane Peters, I swear if you tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, I might actually have to kill you."

At first she laughs, "Oh quit the dramatics! You'd never kill your own sister."

I groan, "Laney, you have no idea what I'm capable of, nor do you know who I work for. They are very important people who have a higher regard for national and international security than for a mouthy civilian's life."

"Kestrel, you're scaring me."

"I am so, so sorry. I was sworn to secrecy, but I'm telling you now because I think you deserve to know. Laney, I work for the CIA."

"CIA..."

"Yes, the CIA. I am a spy. They called me in to do an undercover job in Russia for Interpol, trying to catch a Russian mafia man. I was trained in London, that's where I picked up the slight accent you heard. I was only in Russia for about 3 weeks, tracking and infiltrating the mafia. I finished my mission early, that's why I'm home. Laney do you understand, you can't tell anyone this? Not Mama, nor Greg, not even written in your journal. Promise me, please, swear to me."

"I promise."

My head drops and a sigh of relief runs through me. I reach out and find her hand. She grips my fingers tightly, "Oh Kestrel. You shouldn't have told me."

"I know it's a lot to handle..."

A familiar click catches my ear and I look up. Tears stream down my sister's face as she looks past me. I slowly turn and I feel the blood drain from my face.

"You of all people had to be the mole. I want you to know, Kestrel, that I'm doing this for Mother Russia, nothing personal," Greg says, in a thick Russian accent, holding a pistol, aimed at me.