The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [80]
‘The family?’ he asked.
Stevie told him what she knew about the Kozkovs, about Anya, about what had happened to her and why, and who they suspected was responsible.
Constantine did not interrupt, just nodded from time to time.
When she had finished he said simply, ‘Best we stay close to them.’
In the sitting room, a huge fire was spreading heat through the chilly air. Irina had laid a white cloth on the table and placed several bottles, clean glasses and an unopened tin of olives. Silently she poured five glasses of vodka, her face paler than ever, her mouth drawn tight. The tin of olives was covered in dust and no one had thought to bring a tin opener.
‘This is usually such a happy place.’ Kozkov was staring into the fire. ‘We’ve had so many wonderful summers together. The place is quite different then, full of sunlight and laughter and wild flowers.’
He addressed Stevie. ‘You must come again in the summer, when all this . . .’ He waved his hand, lost for the right words to describe what was happening.
‘There is a lake not far from the house—you can see it from here when it’s not all covered in snow,’ Irina said, her face suddenly animated. ‘Anya and Vadim used to float about in a little dinghy. It only had one oar and they used to just go in circles.’ To Stevie’s surprise, she laughed. ‘It was magical.’
Irina handed round the rather large glasses of vodka and sat down. ‘I feel we should have more hope than this,’ she said quietly, her face losing its flash of joy. ‘We are all sitting here wondering if we will ever have another summer like those past, with everyone together. We are admitting a defeat before we have even begun. I believe we will get Anya back and everything will be alright.’ Her eyes sought Kozkov. ‘I need to believe that.’
‘Irina, there is every reason to hope.’ Stevie moved to stand beside her. ‘The kidnappers have made contact and will contact us again tomorrow. They will make their demands and from then, it becomes a matter of negotiation.’ Stevie looked to Constantine for support.
‘There exists, somewhere between you and them, a point where you are able to meet the demands, and at which the kidnappers will be satisfied.’ Constantine’s voice was steady and calm. It could make anyone trust him. ‘We simply find that point.’
‘And then they will return her?’ Vadim was staring straight at Constantine. The Greek said nothing; Stevie jumped in. ‘Yes, then they will return her.’ And she believed it. There was no reason, at that point, not to.
They tried to talk about other things but there was mostly silence. The vodka and the fire had driven out the cold but they hadn’t brought any food. Stevie went through the kitchen cupboards, disturbing a few dried spiders, noting the tin of Italian coffee with relief. She found a bag of white rice, and a tin of tuna, some capers and spices. With these she cobbled together a kedgeree of sorts.
Constantine and the family sat around the table. The kedgeree was unspectacular but it was filling and hot, and they would need the energy tomorrow. In any case, food and the table nourished more than stomachs in Stevie’s experience. Constantine ran through the battle plan.
Details were a good way to focus the tension.
‘Initially, we do exactly as they ask. We want to win their trust. When the phone rings, you, Valery, will answer. If they will not agree to speak to me, then you must speak. Try to write down words that will let me know what is going on. We need to know if this Maraschenko is still holding Anya, or if she has been moved. Anything you can learn through your ears can help.’ Valery nodded, his face drawn and tight.
Vadim stood and filled everyone’s glass with vodka. Kozkov downed his quickly. After a time, he began to speak, leaning back in his chair, his voice low.
‘My banking reforms were supposed to make a real difference. I spent my first years in the job quietly pulling everything apart and putting it back together to find the rot. I decided not to make waves unless it was absolutely