The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [86]
‘The same “authorities” that now my father wants to get to help Anya.’
‘They aren’t all like that, Vadim.’ Kozkov stretched a hand out towards his son. ‘There are some good men who still hold on to ideals of service—the patriots. If everyone believed that the authorities—’
‘What? That the authorities are corrupt and violent?’ The heat was back in Vadim’s voice. ‘Everyone knows that already. You don’t remember giving me exactly the same reasoning when I came to you with my papers that day and asked for your help?’
‘Vadim,’ Kozkov’s eyes held pure heartbreak, ‘I didn’t know what was going to happen to you.’
‘You did,’ he accused, unforgiving. ‘I told you the reputation of that platoon and what had happened to my friend Sergei under the same officers. You even met his mother, Milla, who had a funeral for her son’s skull because no one seems to know where the rest of the body is.’
Vadim turned to Stevie. ‘In the official explanation—when Milla finally got one—they said Sergei died of “heart failure”. Everyone knows he was beaten to death by his superiors, drunk, bored—they did it just for fun.’
‘I thought I was doing the right thing, Vadim.’ Kozkov was shaking his head. ‘If people would only return to the ideas of duty and service and strength in adversity, Russia could be saved from total ruin. I still believe that now. But how could I publicly promote these values and then, privately, use my influence to protect my son from the difficulties of the same?’
Kozkov turned away from his son, his back bowed in defeat.
‘My enemies would have screamed hypocrisy, it would have broken my bond of trust with the citizens. They need to trust the head of the Central Bank. With their trust, I have the power to do something real to stop us all sinking into this morass of rot and corruption. Can you see I had no choice?’
Vadim’s eyes burned at his father’s back; he struggled to keep his voice steady. ‘What I see is that you chose to sacrifice me to your ideals and you proved nothing. You could have had me transferred, you could have spoken out about Sergei, you could have asked questions about what happens to Russian conscripts. But you did nothing. Fine. I survived, you got your chance to change the world. But I won’t let you do the same to Anya. If you make the same choice now, I will never forgive you.’
There was a long, deep silence, all words buried by the horror— by the snow and the desperation that surrounded them all.
Finally Kozkov spoke. ‘Vadim is right. My fight for Russia is over.
Now I must fight for my family. I will retire immediately, become useless to my enemies.’
Constantine shook his head; Stevie spoke for him. ‘If you do that, you’ll make the men now holding Anya very angry. They will kill her just to show you that you can’t win. It’s not an option, Valery, I’m sorry. Anya is only safe while you are still useful to them.’
The sound of Kozkov’s fist smashing through the window surprised them all. He pulled his bloody hand back without another sound and thundered out of the dacha into the deep snow. From inside, they watched him fight through the drifts, running towards the birches, floundering like a man unspooling.
Then came a howl of rage that could have belonged to another wolf but this time belonged to a man.
Saskia slipped out after him. Stevie could see her sniffing anxiously at the garnet trail left in the snow by her master’s bleeding hand. She stepped daintily, not sinking, carefully and methodically choosing her way.
Sound in the snow is muffled. The tiny droplets of moisture in the air that usually help carry noise from the source are frozen. That’s why it always seems so quiet in a blizzard. But they could still make out Kozkov’s words, and the strain of hysteria and frustration in his voice.
‘Take me, you predators!’ He splayed his arms like a man ready to be crucified. ‘I’m the one you want. Take me, you wolves!’ he screamed into the birch forest.
When there was no reply from the forest or the mist or the frozen hills, Kozkov began