8
“Trust me. A woman knows these things.”
“Can we just do this, please?”
Janet moderated her grin as I pressed the buzzer on the door to Oksana Lenova’s apartment. Our IDs had got us past the concierge downstairs, but access to her home would need to be voluntary in the absence of a warrant. She lived in the Cormorant Apartments penthouse suite, a place that I calculated would have cost about a thousand times my annual salary. She answered the door promptly enough, presumably forewarned by the concierge. I knew Athena had been spot on the moment I saw her face, pretty much a feminine version of Mr Mac with slightly higher cheekbones. She was dressed casually in a loose shirt and slacks, cool gaze switching from my ID to Janet’s without much of a reaction, though I noticed how pale her k
