Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [85]
Luke didn’t answer.
“Don’t be stubborn, Luke.” Mikhal opened the cell door, and the rat scampered away. “You’ve been in here for two days. Do you think I like to punish you? But Rakovac is determined you do this kill. All you have to do is point the gun and pull the trigger. Then you walk away, and I give you a fine dinner and let you get back to your books.”
“No.”
Mikhal knelt beside him. “Do it,” he coaxed. “It’s not as if you haven’t killed before. I put a gun in your hand when you were scarcely able to hold it. I’ve taken you on so many of my raids since you were eight. You fought for the great cause. Do you think when you fired that gun that you didn’t kill? What’s the difference? This is just easier. He’s tied and can’t try to kill you. You walk up to the man and press the trigger.”
“There’s a difference.” He would not have known that difference if his books had not said that fighting in a war and the killing of the helpless were not the same. He was still confused about it, but he would believe his books. He believed nothing Rakovac said. Rakovac was the enemy. When he had been younger, he had never thought at all. He had just done as he was told. But that was before he had found the books. “Why does Rakovac want me to do it?”
“I believe he thinks it may upset your dear mother. As I’ve told you, all your pain is caused by her.”
Luke had heard those words all his life too when he was growing up and at first he hadn’t doubted them. It was only in the past few years that his hatred of Rakovac had cleared his head of those lies. It was Rakovac who wielded the whip. It was Rakovac who punished and tormented. Usually not personally; he relied on Mikhal to carry out his orders. Luke had lived with Mikhal Czadas as long as he could remember in this crumbling stone house on the lake.
He had gradually become vaguely aware that Mikhal took orders from Rakovac about his care in exchange for the weapons he supplied him. It was a rare occasion when Rakovac visited Savrin House, and it usually involved a beating and Rakovac showing him the picture of the woman he said was Luke’s mother and telling him that she was responsible.
She was not responsible. She was not real to him. He had only a vague memory of her, but it was of kindness and warmth. But no one was responsible for this pain but Rakovac. When he’d finally gotten over the confusion and hurt, he’d realized that everything Rakovac or Mikhal told him was lies. Why should he believe the man who hurt him?
“Do it for me, Luke,” Mikhal said. “Look at all I do for you. Are you not treated well? Except for these little rebellions when you cause me trouble, I’m very kind to you. I keep you fed and housed and supplied with all those books you love so much.”
Books. It had been a magical day when he had been exploring and discovered the library, with the thousands of books that had belonged to Nikolai Savrin and his English wife, the former owners of the house. And when Mikhal had discovered how fascinated he was by them, they had become weapons. He had even had Luke taught to read both Russian and English so that the love would grow. Now the books were kept or withdrawn at Mikhal’s whim…or Rakovac’s order.
“Why should it matter to my mother if I kill this man or not?”
“Rakovac believes she has the foolish idea that your soul may be damaged in some way. It will hurt her. Don’t worry your head about it. Just do as Rakovac says.”
He was silent a moment. Was it worth enduring the beating that was bound to come? All it would take would be to pull the trigger.
Rakovac wanted it. It was worth the pain. “No.”
Mikhal sat back on his heels. “The man’s going to die anyway. Rakovac thinks Medvar cheated him. He only sent him here because he had this brilliant idea of how he could use him.”
“No.”
Mikhal sighed and got to his feet. “Then I’ll have to do it myself.” He started to turn away. “Though Rakovac will be angry with both of us.”
He was leaving, Luke realized, stunned.
“You’re not going to beat me?”
“It doesn’t work anymore. The last few times I became very frustrated.