Chapter Text
Nikolai dreamed he was finally free.
Free to decide where he wanted to go. Free to do as he wanted without someone breathing down his neck. Free to live each day without worrying if it’d be his last. But his dream was nothing more than a distraction as he made his way through the baron’s manor. He flexed his fingers, anticipation thrumming in his blood.
He was on yet another thrilling job involving ‘complicated acquisition’.
Or just theft , though he disliked that term very much. What he did wasn’t the same as snatching a wallet off some unsuspecting pedestrian or palming something off a store shelf when no one was watching.
Theft is theft , his employer's voice echoed in his mind. And let me remind you, we caught you. You’re not half as clever as you think you are .
Nikolai wrinkled his nose at the memory, suddenly feeling hot under the guard's uniform he was wearing as a disguise. Juris was always a stickler for protocol, regardless of where Nikolai’s skillset lay. He shook his head to clear it and focused on the task at hand.
Baron Haugen had been exiled by the royal family after some scandal or other, but he hadn’t left before dipping his hands into the treasury. This much, Nikolai had learned from gossiping in the kitchen just a few hours ago—along with the fact that the household staff didn’t care about who you were as long as you listened to them and kept them entertained during their working hours.
That’s when he confirmed that this mansion was a prime target.
“What do we have here?” he muttered to himself as he knelt down to assess a door’s lock.
He was in the baron’s study now, the setting sun casting a red glow on everything. Musty books that looked like they hadn’t been touched for years were littered around the room and Nikolai had to hold in a sneeze as he reached for the lockpicks he had tucked into his sleeve. He only had twenty minutes before the guards passed through the study again in their rotation, which meant he had to be done in fifteen if he wanted to have a clean escape.
According to the blueprints he’d memorized earlier, there should only have been a solid wall behind the door, but he could see light coming through the keyhole. He was willing to bet just about anything that it was a secret room containing untold treasures that were soon to be in his possession.
After a few seconds of wiggling the picks, there was a soft click and the doorknob turned smoothly. He allowed himself a triumphant smile before he slipped inside and closed the door again behind him.
As far as secret treasure rooms went, Baron Haugen’s was rather modest in comparison to others Nikolai had stolen from. A grandfather clock in the corner that was worth about a year of his salary told him three minutes had already passed, but he let himself admire the craftsmanship for just a bit longer. A shame it was too heavy to steal. It would have looked amazing below his Monet in his New York apartment.
He shook off the distraction. “Twelve minutes, Lantsov,” he reminded himself as his eyes searched the room.
Multiple paintings were hanging on the walls with seemingly no rhyme or reason for the selection or placement. There was The Last Supper at the fireplace to the right, The Starry Night and The Kiss somehow next to each other by the wall behind the office desk to the left, and countless others that he didn’t bother examining. They aren’t even good copies , Nikolai thought with a scoff.
A glass case near the window caught his eye. Shelf after shelf of what seemed to be Russian nesting dolls were displayed, their dozens of painted eyes staring straight at him. Nikolai shuddered. He didn’t care if they were worth millions of dollars, he wanted them as far away from him as possible.
A few other pedestals were scattered around, each displaying something Nikolai wasn’t looking for. He felt himself growing more frustrated by the second as he examined each object. He hadn’t cased the place for a week for some cheap replicas and haunted dolls.
He took another look at the clock. Eight more minutes.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” said Nikolai angrily. He was beginning to consider lifting the clock just to make the day count for something. But just as he started for the clock, something caught his eye. To the right of the dolls’ display case hung a copy of the Mona Lisa, her smile not quite as serene as the original. And to further insult the masters, it hung crooked.
Nikolai lifted the painting from the wall with the intention of rehanging it, but he paused as he saw what was hiding behind it. A gleaming steel safe was set into the wall.
Baron Haugen was smarter than Nikolai gave him credit for. He examined the safe for a moment, his fingers brushing over the metal surface. It was a newer model he hadn’t practiced opening before, but he was always up for a challenge.
He let out a long breath as he flexed his fingers.
Five minutes. That was enough time.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his ear against the metal surface of the safe.
He let his instincts guide his fingers as he turned the dial to the left, waiting for the soft, satisfying click to echo in his ear. When it finally did, he turned it to the other direction and did the same a few more times, the rhythm familiar after nearly a decade of his “acquisitions.” The door let out a small hiss. He pulled away for a bit to check if he had heard it right, and then he let out a chuckle.
The safe was unlocked.
He opened the door wider to reveal a few jeweled brooches and a black velvet pouch. He weighed each piece in his hand before slipping it into his pockets, then he opened the pouch. A smirk appeared on his lips as he recognized what he was holding.
Nikolai had been called many names in his life—bastard, thief, sellout—but he supposed none of that mattered very much, not when he was the last one standing with a priceless ring once rumored to belong to the Grand Duchess Anastasia herself finally in his hands. He held it up to the light and admired the way the diamond seemed to wink back at him.
Maybe being sent to the middle of nowhere in Norway would be worth it, after all.
Then as if on cue, something clicked in his mind and he looked at the clock again. He was two minutes behind schedule.
“Oh, hell.” He shoved the pouch into his breast pocket and closed the door to the safe before putting the room back the way he had found it.
Nikolai locked the secret room behind him, then slipped out of the study. A groan from somewhere near caught his attention, and he looked down. The guards he had knocked out earlier had slipped from where he’d propped them against the wall and were now sprawled rather scandalously on the ground. He winced at the sight.
There was no time to fix it. He could only hope no one would see them before he escaped.
He stepped over their bodies and made his way down the hall. The corner of the main stairway was already in sight, and he quickened his pace.
Only to slow down when he heard the voices of the patrol guards at the end of the hall. He instantly recognized Anders, his tall form appearing at the top of the staircase along with the other guard Mikkel. They were headed straight towards Nikolai. If he didn’t divert them, they would see the bodies of the other two guards and Nikolai was going to have a very bad day.
Think, think, think—
“Lars!”
Nikolai pretended to be slightly surprised and put a grin on his lips, but it felt more like a grimace. His cover’s name hadn’t been his choice. “Hey, there you are!” he greeted them with a wave, breaking into a jog to approach them quickly. He put his arms around their shoulders and forcefully turned them back to the stairs. “I’ve been trying to find you two.”
Anders’ eyebrows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“Since the baron’s gone this week, Nissa opened a bottle of good wine for us in the kitchens” whispered Nikolai to make it more convincing. “She told me when I passed by earlier.”
“Really? Then let’s not make them wait,” said Anders, his tone laced with excitement. He nudged his companion. “Let’s take a quick detour, alright, Mik?”
Mikkel didn’t look like he would agree, but a quick glance to Anders’ hand on his elbow made Nikolai raise a brow. Oh, there was no way Mikkel would turn him down.
“Alright,” replied Mikkel.
Nikolai only chuckled lightly as a reply and led them down to the kitchens.
But before they could get inside, he let go of them and stepped back.
“Wait, I forgot something in the foyer,” he said over his shoulder as he turned. He waved a hand to them. “You go on first. I’ll be quick.”
Anders nodded. “Alright.”
Nikolai turned back, a smug smile on his lips as he sped through the hallways undisturbed and reached the guest room that would be his exit. He patted the pocket that hid the ring, and his smile only grew wider. All he could see was the glitter of the diamond in the sun’s dying light.
That was a close call. But another errand was done and in the history books.
With one last look at the behind him, Nikolai hopped from the window and slipped into the deepening shadows.
The guards wouldn’t be seeing Lars tonight or ever again.
The loud ringing of the telephone was the first thing he heard before he could even open the door to his safehouse in Oslo. He let out an exasperated sigh as slammed the door shut behind him. Even without answering the phone, he already knew who the caller was. Juris always seemed to have a psychic sense for his worst-behaved agent.
Nikolai let the phone ring on, not wanting to hear his employer’s voice yet. The long drive back from the baron’s manor had been tiring, not to mention the official business he’d been sent here for. Juris could be dealt with after he’d had some dinner and a nap.
Thankfully, the landline stopped after several more piercing rings and he let out a contented sigh as he plopped down onto the rickety couch. Drowsiness almost immediately overcame him, only for it to disappear when the telephone started ringing again. He rolled over and put a pillow over his head.
“Maybe not now, old man?” he told the phone, his voice echoing in the small room. “Overseas calls are expensive.”
But the ringing was just as stubborn as Juris—and Nikolai himself, if he were to be honest. Nikolai let out a long groan and finally decided to end his misery.
He stomped over to the phone and let out a sigh before answering the call.
“Hel—”
“Take the next flight back. We have a job for you,” Juris cut him off, which made Nikolai raise his eyebrows. He had expected the old man to be angry, or even to shout at him for ignoring the call. And yet his tone was tense, his words more clipped than usual. Then after a moment, he added, “Your last job.”
Nikolai’s blood went cold. He supposed he should have felt ecstatic that his freedom was finally within reach. But he only felt dread. He didn’t know what to make of it. The CIA had always kept him on a short leash for as long as he could remember and they had no reason for a sudden change of heart.
Unless they knew he wouldn’t be coming back.
He wanted to ask the reason for it—he had the right to know. But if there was one thing he learned, it was to never question his superiors’ orders.
Always know your place, Lantsov, Juris had once told him when they had pulled him from the British authorities after he was caught in an attempt to steal some crown jewels. He had demanded they explain why the American embassy had gone through all the trouble to free just one man. But all he had received was a verbal beating. No questions. You only follow what we tell you to do, unless you want to rot in prison for the rest of your life.
“Understood?” the old man’s voice asked, and Nikolai snapped out of his thoughts.
His hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles were white. “Yes, sir,” he replied with a straight voice.
“Alright, good,” said Juris. “I’ll see you at headquarters soon.” The line went dead.
The feeling of dread in his chest lingered even as he placed the receiver back into its cradle. There was an alarmingly high chance he was walking to his own death. And if not at the hands of whatever mystery villain they were throwing him at, then the CIA themselves. They didn’t like leaving loose ends. A small part in the back of his mind replayed Juris’ old words back to him. You’re not half as clever as you think you are .
But then he remembered the ring in his pocket, the string of safe houses, the bank accounts under a dozen false names. He was Nikolai Lantsov.
He always had a way out of everything.
Nikolai wasn’t thrilled to see the nondescript building that served as a branch of their organization. If anything, he was annoyed by the sight because it reminded him of the power they had over him. One call from some faceless man in there and he’d never see the light of day again. He wanted to burn it to the ground.
He idled on the sidewalk as he stared at the unmarked door, his fingers idly flipping a coin between his knuckles. To an unknowing eye, it could pass as the entrance to a cheap apartment building sandwiched between a tattoo parlor and a grocery store. How many people walked by it each day without realizing what was behind that facade? How many times had he walked by it before in blissful ignorance?
For your freedom, Lantsov, he reminded himself as he made his way up the narrow stairs and unlocked the door with a key he fished out of his pocket.
And just inside was his waiting employer.
He looked down at Nikolai with a narrowed glance, and if Nikolai was still the same young soldier he’d been before, he was sure he would have cowered from the man’s gaze. But years of working under this man had taught him how to stand tall and endure Juris’ scrutinizing looks.
“About time, Lantsov,” the man greeted, his voice rough from years of shouting at recruits. His short, graying hair was brushed up impeccably, and his stance ramrod straight as if he were overseeing an army. “You look exhausted.”
Nikolai sighed quietly. In front of Juris, he felt embarrassingly small despite almost being at the same height as the older man. “I could use a bit more sleep, but alas, a job is a job.”
Juris hummed in approval. “That’s more like it,” he said. Then he put his hands behind him and started to walk deeper into the building. “Follow me.”
He led Nikolai through the rows of desks that lined the small floor, each one with someone hunched over a typewriter or scribbling on official-looking documents. Nikolai had to wonder which of the dozen papers currently being worked on concerned him. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and ink.
“How was Norway?” asked the old man, snapping Nikolai out of his thoughts. “Meeting go fine?”
Nikolai pursed his lips as the memory of his excursion to the baron’s manor resurfaced in his mind. Juris didn’t need to know about that. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I passed it over to the headquarters just as you requested.”
His employer nodded at him. They finally reached the quieter part of the office floor where more private rooms were located. On good days, they were used as briefing rooms. On bad ones, they were interrogation rooms. Needless to say, Nikolai had experienced both ends of the spectrum. Which one would it be today? It felt as if the temperature around the area had gone up, and Nikolai could feel the sweat running down his back. He pulled at his collar and shifted uncomfortably.
He let out a breath, shaking the jitters away. He had been here a million times before. What was there to be nervous about?
Juris stopped at one of the translucent glass doors, his hand already poised on the knob but still not turning it. A grim look appeared on his face.
“We,” Juris said in a low voice, looking both ways before turning back to Nikolai, “are in the middle of a war with the Soviet Union.”
Nikolai blinked at him, wondering if the old man had finally gone senile. “I’ve noticed.”
“It’s us versus them, Lantsov. One wrong move, one poorly translated remark, and someone presses a button and everything blows up. But even with the stakes so high, there’s something we can both agree on. Only we should have the power to end the world.”
“Just get to the point, Juris,” Nikolai said before he could stop himself. But Juris’ expression didn’t change.
Nikolai blinked, the feeling of dread weighing heavily on his shoulders. “What is it?”
“You have a new job,” said Juris. “A group project, of sorts.”
It took Nikolai a second to realize what he meant. What Juris had been insinuating this whole time.
“I work alone,” he said with a nervous laugh. His hand found the coin in his pocket and he began fidgeting with it again. “And I definitely don’t work with Russians.”
“Not this time,” said Juris. “Suck it up. It’s your last job for us, anyway.”
There it was again, that stipulation dangled before him like a carrot on a stick. Nikolai studied his handler’s face carefully. Juris was one of the few people he could never quite read, his face seemingly stuck in an expression of neutral displeasure. To be fair, Nikolai usually caused him enough trouble that would have made anyone else quit. But was Juris callous enough to knowingly send Nikolai to his death without informing him?
He only had to mull the question over for a second. Probably.
Nikolai let out a quiet sigh. He really deserved a raise after being forced to put up with all this.
With his speech apparently over, Juris finally opened the door and practically shoved Nikolai inside. “Wait here.” Then without another word, he was gone.
He tried to curb his irritation and did as he was told. It was unlike Juris to be so deliberately mysterious. Usually he just handed Nikolai a file and waited for the job to be done with no fuss, and that was just fine with him. Nikolai finally let the scowl he’d been holding back twist his lips as he looked around. The room was bare, neither set up for a meeting or torture. Though Nikolai supposed waiting was a form of torture in and of itself. A large window connected to an observation room took up the wall to his right.
With another exasperated sigh, he forced himself to stop overthinking. It wasn’t going to help him on this new job if he was already stressed about it before he even knew what it was.
“Last job, Lantsov,” he told himself as he stepped further into the room. “After that, you’re finally free.”
Nikolai walked up to the glass window and looked into the adjoining room.
Then he froze.
A familiar striking pair of blue eyes wide with shock stared at him from the other side of the glass. Nikolai was suddenly reminded of stolen kisses that tasted like whiskey and strawberries in Berlin, a Degas he’d acquired in Italy, a dozen scribbled postcards sent from every corner of the world. He swallowed hard, not sure whether to step closer or back away.
Zoya Nazyalensky, the one who got away. Or more accurately, it was him who had gotten away. Nikolai blinked, and then the memory of her dark expression when he’d barely eluded her by the border resurfaced. A jolt of fear shot through him when he realized that she was giving him the exact same look now. The promise of revenge.
Wait, she's actually here?
The answer came as quickly as he expected it. Zoya reacted first, shooting to her feet and grabbing the metal chair she’d been sitting on. The window shattered into pieces as the chair flew through it.
There was only a split second to dodge the flying chair before he felt another force collide with his body that sent him crashing to the floor, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Bits of glass dug into his skin as the two of them grappled for a dominant position.
Why is she here in New York—
His thoughts were cut short when he felt an arm clamp around his neck, locking him in a chokehold. He gripped her arm tightly and tried in vain to pull it away so he could breathe.
He was going to die today.
"I told myself I'd kill you the next time we met," she said by his ear, and she emphasized it by tightening her hold around his neck. A thrill went through him at the sound of her voice even as he struggled to take in another gasping breath. "What a good day to finally keep that promise."
Nikolai tried to laugh but it sounded more like a wheeze. Though he wasn't necessarily against the idea of being killed by her, perhaps he could still try reasoning with her.
He pulled at her arm a little more urgently. "Zoya, love—"
Her hold tightened around his neck even more. Black spots crowded at the edges of his vision.
"Okay, wrong thing to say," Nikolai wheezed. "Maybe we could—"
"Maybe not, Lantsov."
Just as Nikolai was starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, the door opened again to reveal a regal-looking woman who could most likely kill him as well. But instead of intervening, she only crossed her arms and stared down at them. Behind her, Juris appeared, a mix of concern and amusement on his face. The woman lifted her chin, the gesture so much like Zoya he wondered if she was whom Zoya had learned from.
"Stand down, Nazyalensky," she said in Russian, but Nikolai understood it all the same. "You wouldn't want to kill your new partner just yet."
Nikolai's jaw went slack, and he heard Zoya draw in a sharp breath. " What? "