The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [74]
‘Nazdarovye’.
They drank.
‘He has a tattoo of a smiling cat,’ Stevie persisted.
Maxim closed the lid of his sunbed and restarted the whirring motor. ‘I know Maraschenko.’ He refilled the glasses. ‘He came to see me a few months ago. He said to me, “Maxim, I want to go into business for myself. I’m tired of doing dirty, two-bit jobs that lack any elegance. Half the time I just feel like a trained attack dog.” He said he knew he was better than that. I advised him he wouldn’t make serious money until he started to work for himself. But I warned him that there are responsibilities too, the vagaries of the market. These can be stressful.’
‘He wanted career advice from you?’ Stevie, perched on the edge of her sunbed, a slim pink arm slung across her chest, was attempting to hide both her breasts and her surprise.
Maxim flashed his teeth. ‘Why not? He felt his career prospects were at a dead end. He had been doing the same old stuff for years with no hope of promotion. He said it was depressing him, that he was an ambitious man, willing to work hard.’
‘Did he want you to hire him?’
Maxim shrugged. ‘I think he might have. He told me he saw how I had positioned myself at the sophisticated end of the market and he respected that. But I don’t need a new man.’
Maxim downed his vodka and reached for Stevie’s glass, refilling both again. ‘I felt a bit sad for him. Life is never easy for ageing thugs. I told him he needed to find a niche in the market. There are so many hit men today, two-rouble hoods with a gun selling themselves as professionals. Really, there should be some sort of accreditation to distinguish professionals from amateurs. It would certainly help employers.’
He sat back down. Stevie wished Maxim would lift his goggles and put a towel on. It would give her a chance to reach for a towel. She was beginning to feel acutely naked. But he didn’t move, and so neither did she.
‘I built my own reputation slowly and carefully as someone who can always be trusted and who can always get the job done, whatever it is. I’m sure it is the same in your work, Stevie, you will understand this. I’m not saying of course that competition is a bad thing. Competition is a good thing—it creates a real state of play. If you protect the industry, you get people who are no good at their jobs, or who are lazy, being given the same pay and opportunity as those who are very skilled and prepared to work hard. Everything goes downhill. If you are good, and you can provide what the market wants, word spreads. People will pay for a job well done. I told him, don’t fear competition.’
There was a long pause. Maxim drained his glass and turned his goggle-gaze to Stevie.
‘Maraschenko contacted me again a few days ago. He told me that he had taken my advice and that he had something to sell me, something very special—a young girl with a very important daddy. I didn’t want to know any more and I told him that. I don’t deal in people. It’s too messy.’
Stevie began to shiver with cold despite the tanning heat. It was an auction: Maraschenko was planning to sell Anya to the highest bidder. That was why he was waiting.
‘So,’ she swallowed, trying to keep her voice from cracking. ‘Who would Anya be most valuable to?’
‘Everyone wants to get Kozkov—except me!’ Maxim laughed.
‘The list is long.’
Stevie leaned forward, her voice smooth and persuasive. ‘Surely there is someone at the top of that list, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to take up an offer like Maraschenko’s.’
Maxim looked at Stevie, who hadn’t taken her goggles off either.
‘If I were you, Stevie Duveen, I would leave this alone. You don’t know what you are getting yourself into.’
‘Please, Maxim,’ Stevie took off her goggles and opened her big green eyes wide. ‘What am I getting myself into?’
Maxim poured another vodka from the glass gun—would the man ever stop? He hunted around and found a cigarette, taking his time to light it.
He exhaled the smoke from his lungs, his eyes now on the ceiling.
‘The man who would take most perverse pleasure in a stunt like this?