Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(31)

“Miss Budanov.” Pohl reached out a hand, which she accepted . . . then he leaned in for the way-too-familiar double kiss to the sides of her cheeks.

Claire’s description of the man, creepazoid, surfaced.

All the pleasantries that Sasha was desperately bad at mulled around in her head. Thank you for having me. I appreciate your time . . . none rang true. She settled for “Good morning.”

She watched for any sign that the two of them knew they were being recorded. From this angle, she couldn’t tell if Linette’s computer was on.

“Linette tells me that you’ve been enjoying your sabbatical here.”

“Richter was my home for many years.”

“Longer than the average student,” Pohl said.

Obviously he knew her history with the school. Sasha wasn’t about to waste time with a meaningless amount of chitchat. “Tell me, Mr. Pohl . . . have I maintained my level of expertise, in all areas, enough to know what kind of job you have to offer?”

Linette let out a single huff that passed as laughter. “I told you she wouldn’t waste your time with small talk,” she told Pohl.

He wove his fingers together and rested them in his lap. “As a matter of fact, you have.” He then looked at Linette and nodded toward the door.

“This is where I leave.” She pushed her chair back, reached for her robe. “I’ll see you both later.”

Sasha didn’t question her leaving, just followed her with her gaze as she did.

When the door closed behind her, Pohl stood, smoothed his dress coat, and tugged it down. “You were one of the most remarkable graduates from this school.”

“And now?”

“Even more so. Your sophistication and poise offers its own set of assets.”

“Who do you work for, Mr. Pohl?”

“Before we go there, I need you to understand that this conversation is strictly confidential. I asked that Linette leave so that we can keep this between us.”

“Fine.”

He smiled. “I’m a recruiter.”

“I understand that. For whom?”

“More than one organization.”

“I’m listening.”

Pohl took a couple of strides before turning and repeating the movement. “I hire agents, Sasha. When let’s say . . . a government, needs a high level of expertise and low visibility, they come to me.”

Spies. “Which government?”

“There are many—”

“Who would be signing my check?” she interrupted.

“You move straight to the point, don’t you?”

“I don’t see the point in wasting time. I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

His pacing began again. “The secure nature of the jobs I recruit for means they are not advertised on a job listing page. The individuals hiring would insist that you never tell anyone who you work for or what you do. Your checks come through me.”

Sasha paused long enough to cross her legs and shift her body just enough to look at him directly. “You hire spies.”

He paused, looked at her. “Intelligence is part of the job.”

“I thought that was going to be your answer. What I find strange is how you go about it. Government agencies around the world start by further educating employees with criminal justice degrees, employees of the state department, FBI, CIA, BND here in Germany, British intelligence. The military recruits from their elite. Police officers move up to detectives. Yet you come to a school like Richter and offer positions to students who haven’t even lost their baby fat . . . why?”

“Are you questioning my tactics?”

All politeness left her tone. “Yes. I am. I’ve been away from Richter, and I’ve seen this world . . . governments . . . all areas of official departments, recruit at colleges. Spies? No. Not the kind that have an official job in a reputable agency. Unless there is something you’re not telling me.”

Pohl’s smile faded. “There are people in this world that government-like agencies would love to remove. But often their own bureaucratic red tape stops them from even finding these people. When you work for me and the people I recruit for, your job will be anything from obtaining information, analyzing, spying, engaging . . .”

“Removing.”

Pohl hired assassins.

“I didn’t say that,” he told her.

Sasha kept a straight face. “You didn’t not say that either.”

No words of denial told her she was right.

He moved to the desk, leaned against it. “You could be part of a team responsible for making this world safer. Imagine being on the inside of stopping terrorists before they attack.”

This guy was a piece of work. “And you recruit children for this job?”

Pohl snapped his mouth shut. Their eyes locked.

“Am I speaking to a child?”

“No. And I’m not emotionally vulnerable enough to be blinded by the kind of life you’d have me lead.” Sasha uncrossed her legs and stood. “I’ve lived the first third of my life on the outside looking in. Watching but not truly participating. The last thing I’d want to do is have that lifestyle indefinitely.”

A placating laugh escaped Pohl’s lips. “It sounds like someone has an overactive, almost childish, imagination.”