The Book of Air and Shadows - Michael Gruber [92]
Miri is the only one of we three who retains any contact with the old gangster. She is parsimonious with information about this relationship, however, perhaps at his insistence. That would be like him.
“Dad is fine. I saw him about three weeks ago. He looks good. He had to get a stent put into a coronary artery.”
“I hope they used an especially corrosion-resistant material. Brick would be my suggestion. Where was this meeting, by the way?”
“Europe.”
“Could you be more specific? Cannes? Paris? Odessa?”
She ignored this. “He asked after you and Paul.”
“Oh, that was kind of him. I hope you conveyed to him that he’s always in our thoughts. What’s he up to nowadays?”
“This and that. You know Dad, he always has some kind of hustle going. You should go over and see him. Take Amalie and the kids.”
This made me laugh. “That’s a good idea, Miri. I really can’t think of anything that would be more sheer fun than such an expedition.”
“You know,” said my sister after an offended pause, “have you ever noticed that your wife is never sarcastic? You might take a tip from that. You might try a little forgiveness too. I mean you sure get a lot of it.”
“And religious advice tonight as well. Are you sure you’re not Paul in drag?”
“If you’re going to be shitty, then I’m leaving. I need another drink anyway.”
She tried to pull her hand away from mine, but I held on and she fell back on the love seat.
“What?”
“I just thought of something I needed to ask you. In your dealings with the demimonde have you ever come across a Russian gangster named Osip Shvanov?” I was watching her face closely as I asked this and I saw a little tremor run across its sculpted surfaces. She licked her lips with a pink tongue-tip.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because his goons are after me. He thinks I have something he wants. I think.” I provided a brief explanation of the Bulstrode/Shakespeare affair as background, omitting to identify Miranda by name. “Do you know him?”
“We’ve met.”
“A client?”
“In a way. He entertains a lot. Some of my girls have been at some of his parties.”
“Could you get us together? I mean socially.”
“I don’t think you want to do that, Jake.”
“Because he’s such a bad guy.”
“He’s pretty evil. I mean evil guys think he’s evil.”
“Bad as Dad?”
“The same type of person, the two main differences being Dad never played rough and Shvanov is not our dad. Why do you want to meet him?”
“A frank exchange of views. Anyway, will you?”
“I’ll suggest it to him. Will he want to see you?”
“I believe so. We share an interest in old manuscripts. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about. You should come too. It’ll be a fun evening. We can plan our trip to Israel to see old Dad.”
She stood up. “I’ll call you,” she said and walked out, leaving me alone except for the strange being tapping away at the keyboard. I stood behind Niko and looked at his screen. It was colored a flat, pale gray, across which field incomprehensible blue letters appeared and vanished like windshield rain. Niko was programming. I should say that for a working lawyer I am computer literate. Most lawyers believe their skin will rot away if they touch a keyboard, but not me. I suppose I am about where Niko was when he was four. I lifted one of his earphones and asked, “What are you doing?”
I had to repeat myself several times. “Search engines,” he said.
“Oh, search engines,” I said knowingly. “What are you searching for?”
“Anything. Let me go.” He shook his head and tried to tug his earphones down, but I lifted them off and spun his swivel chair around so that he faced me.
“I have to talk to you about something important,” I said. His body was starting to stiffen up and his gaze was directed at an upper corner of the room.
“Focus on this, Niko! Gangsters are after me and I think they may want to hurt you and Imogen and Mommy. I need you to help me out.”
This seemed to get through. He asked, bored, “This is pretend, right?”
“No, not pretend. For real.”
“Why are they after you?”
“Because I have some papers they want.