Oh, that’s good. Definitely the work of Uno, who would get a bonus for his most creative thinking.
“I did not have the professor killed.” Oleg walked over to the couch, where Galina had settled next to Alexandra, who was sleeping. He tried to hand Galina the orange juice. She shook her head.
“I don’t want it. I want to know why the professor suddenly showed up dead. With his wife’s finger chopped off.”
“I think I know the answer,” Oleg replied, putting the juice on an end table. “Maybe others tried to steal his secrets after we got them. Maybe they were a day late and a dollar short, so he had nothing to give up but his life.”
“Hers, too.”
“Could be. Very sad.”
She looked like she believed him. He put that to a test by resting his hand on her knee, half covered by her summery skirt. Pale-yellow cotton. He loved her skirts, the delicious way they made secrets of her legs — and surprises of all her other wonders. With Alexandra asleep, they could scoot into the bedroom.
“No, I don’t believe you,” she blurted suddenly. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Someone else tried to get secrets of the AAC just after your people got them? No. And that finger business? That sounds like KGB. Are you working with them? You must be.”
He shook his head. “And it’s not KGB. It’s FSB now.”
“Same thing, and you know it.”
“I will talk to my people, find out the truth,” Oleg vowed. He thought he sounded convincing. “I will ask if they did anything to hurt the smart professor and his wife. I will take care of them if they were bad. How about you, Galina girl? Are you bad?”
“Stop that ‘bad’ business. I’m not here for that. How are you going to take care of them? You’re not even taking care of us.” She looked at her daughter. “She needs the best medical care in the world and you still haven’t paid me enough to get it for her. You owe me millions, and she needs help.”
“I have paid you something. Everybody’s getting paid everything in the end.”
“That’s what you said last time, after you came from your papa’s.”
And you looked so bad, he remembered. At least she had lipstick on now.
“So tell me, do I get paid before or after the killers? Afterward, I’m sure, because they would kill you otherwise.”
“No killers, I promise. And you are first on my list.”
“What list?” She sounded alarmed.
He knelt in front of her and began to rub her foot.
She jerked it away, showing her underpants for a second. Long enough. Flashing the green light. Go-go-go.
No, he realized a moment later. Just means she should go.
And take cancer kid with her.
But Galina wasn’t done yet: “I was back at PP’s last night because Dmitri was upset and your papa couldn’t get him to stop his tantrums.”
Oleg leaned closer to her, saying, “Yes?” But he said it in a new way, and she pressed her back into the couch as though she were scared of him. She’d never done that before. He’d never seen her fear. Only her anger, her accusations. Fear was better. Much better. “I told you I didn’t want you going over there.”
“They’re my friends.”
“Papa and Dmitri? Friends?” He leaned so close he could smell her lavender oil.
She stiffened, turning as still as Lenin in his tomb.
“Are you scared, Galina girl?” he asked softly, but not a whisper. A whisper wouldn’t have been right. That would have sent the wrong signal. But he spoke those words directly into her ear, where they couldn’t escape, where they would go straight to her soul. He repeated the question. Then he said, “You shouldn’t be scared. But have you heard from deadbeat dad?”
She shook her head.
“You will,” Oleg told her. “I’m making sure he pays you everything he owes you — and more!”
“What did you do to him?”
Oleg didn’t reply. He placed both hands on her knees and then pointed his index fingers at her just as she had pointed to him only minutes ago, before making the most outrageous claims. Tit for tat. Then he curled them back so he could flick her hem high onto her thighs.
“Not now,” she said.
But she was trying too hard to be firm. He heard the slightest quaver in her voice. He pushed his hands up under her skirt, watching the outline of his knuckles move under the yellowy fabric. Almost as soft as her skin. He started kneading her sweet soft flesh. Alexandra looked asleep. Her mother’s legs were pressed together, unforgiving.
“Please. My baby’s sick.”
“She’ll get better. I will take care of everything.”
He let her push his hands away. Why not? He’d made his point.
She was shaking when she scooped up her daughter and hurried to the elevator. But she couldn’t leave unless he unlocked the door.
Oleg strolled over, and from behind saw her bare shoulder. Alexandra’s weight was pulling down on her mother’s shirt. He wet his lips and kissed her warm skin, then her neck. He felt her shudder. Didn’t mind. That was the nature of their relationship now: fear. He would make sure the insurance company spoke to her soon. He would also make sure the police had her identify the body. Even the rendering of deadbeat dad’s face had been done with great care. Half of it remained just as it was when they made the cancer kid. It would be easy for her to say, “Yes, that’s him.”
Oleg inserted a red key and turned it, hailing the elevator. They listened to the soft hum as it rose, never saying a word. But he saw bumps on her arms, and said nothing to break the stark symphony of their silence.
He felt like a conductor again, waving his baton, leading the darkest orchestra of all.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside and turned around. He reached in and pushed the button for the garage. Then he ran his hand over Alexandra’s brow. Galina stepped away.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said to her.
She was staring at where he’d just touched her child.
CHAPTER 9
Lana awoke as if she’d been catapulted from sleep in her small dormitory room at Fort Meade. The middle of the night, to judge by the darkness beyond the blinds — and the cosmic clock in her core. She wasn’t far off: 3:05, according to a digital readout on the nightstand next to her bed.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side. Couldn’t hear a sound, a silence so complete it felt eerie. She wondered if Emma was sleeping well at Tanesa’s. She also wondered if her daughter would ever forgive her for all the times she’d had to leave her in the hands of nannies and babysitters. But Lana took comfort in knowing that the latest arrangement needed no apology, for Tanesa had proved the best caregiver of all.
It also occurred to her right then that although she had Tanesa’s address in Anacostia, she had never, in fact, visited her home. How safe is it there? Am I gambling with Emma’s safety?
When Emma was little, Lana wouldn’t have even considered a childcare provider without carefully inspecting the premises. And now she’d sent her girl off to one of the toughest neighborhoods in the entire District?
Hold on, she told herself. It was safe enough to raise a great kid like Tanesa. And safe enough for the wonderful family that raised that courageous young woman.
Safe enough, she decided at once, for Emma, who had lived a life of relative privilege. Maybe it was time she saw how the other half lived.