25
Nikolai
“We have a problem,” Konstantin says in lieu of a greeting as his face—a leaner, more ascetic version of mine, with black-rimmed glasses perched high on his hawkish nose—fills my laptop screen.
I lean closer to the camera, my pulse speeding up with anticipation. “What did you find out?”
Konstantin frowns. “Oh, about the girl? Nothing yet. My team’s still working on it.” Oblivious to the sharp sting of disappointment he’s just delivered, he continues. “It’s my nuclear project. The Tajik government has just pulled our permits.”
I inhale and slowly let the air out. At times like this, I want to strangle my older brother. “So what?” He has to know I don’t give two f***s about his pet projects, especially ones that verge on science fiction.
Then again, maybe he doesn’t. Despite
