The Boy in the Suitcase - Lene Kaaberbol [97]
It had taken a little while to make the nurse tell him what she knew, but he had, after all, had some experience in making people do things they didn’t really want to do. And when he discovered that Sigita Ramoškienė actually had a second child, everything had fallen brilliantly into place.
He had sent his first package to the Dane, and made him an offer. The price was easy to remember, and non-negotiable: one million U.S. dollars.
HE STILL DIDN’T understand why things had come apart the way they had. But one thing, at least, was very clear. The Dane was not going to put one over on him now.
“I’ll take him,” he said to Barbara, reaching for the boy.
She hugged the child even closer.
“Can’t we take him with us?” she said. “He is so small. He could easily become ours.”
“Are you insane?”
“He’ll forget all the old stuff quickly. In a year, he will think he has always been with us.”
“Barbara. Let him go.”
“No,” she said. “Andrius. It’s enough now. We can take him and leave for Poland right now. You don’t have to hit anyone anymore. No more violence.”
He shook his head. The woman had gone completely insane. He should never have brought her here. But he thought she might get them into the flat without any fuss, and so she had. Now he wished he had just kicked in the door.
“The money,” he said.
“We don’t need it,” she said. “We can live with my mother, at least to begin with. And then you’ll find a job, and we can get a place of our own.”
He had to breathe very calmly and carefully to keep the rage at bay.
“You may want to live like a sewer rat for the rest of your life,” he said. “But I don’t.”
Resolutely, he seized the boy’s arm and tore him from Barbara’s grasp. Luckily, the kid didn’t scream. He simply went limp, as though he had suddenly lost consciousness. Barbara was the one doing the whining.
“For God’s sake shut up,” he said. “Not all the neighbors are deaf.”
“Andrius,” she begged. She looked as if she were dissolving. Tears and mucus made her look swollen, damp and unattractive. Yet some of the old tenderness returned.
“Hush,” he said. “Stop crying, can’t you? Go back to the hotel, and I will pick you up later. Once we get the money, Dimitri has a new car ready for us. And then we leave for Krakow.”
She nodded, but he couldn’t tell whether she believed him or not.
WHEN HE GOT back to the car, he saw that the boy-bitch had moved. The blanket had slipped, so that one could see a little of her face and shoulder. Damn it. But it was best just to get out of here, now. He could always stop later and cover her up again. He put the boy into the kid’s car seat still fitted between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat. Just as well he hadn’t removed it yet. He fumbled with the straps and buckles—this had been Barbara’s department until now—but luckily the child made no move to resist him. He turned his head away and wouldn’t look at Jučas, but apart from that he was a life-sized doll, limp arms, limp legs, no more screaming defiance.
Barbara came out just as he was finishing, but he merely slid into his own seat and drove off, steadfastly ignoring her. He couldn’t bring her.
He knew that he would probably have to kill someone. The boybitch at the very least, but perhaps also the Dane. And he didn’t want Barbara to see.
JUČAS DROVE PAST the house twice just to get his bearings. There was a wall, but the wrought-iron gates were wide open, so there was really nothing to prevent him from driving straight up to the front door. Was it really that simple? It was hard to believe. In Lithuania, rich people had to guard their money better.
The third time, he turned into the gate and continued up the driveway. He let the car coast to minimize the noise of the engine and didn’t stop in front of the main entrance. Instead, he followed the driveway around the house and into a huge garage at the basement level. Here, too, the doors were wide open. There was space enough for five or six cars, but right now the only occupants were a dark blue Audi stationwagon and a low sportscar