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If it’s not a girlfriend, then there’s only one other thing it could be. One other reason Iakov, the man of principle, the honourable knight in shining armour, has been spending years doing dirty favours for dirty men.
“Didn’t have you down as a family man, Kav,” I tell him.
“I’m not.”
He doesn’t think he’s lying but he is. Iakov is exactly the kind of person to be a family man, and one day, when he’s married and has a whole bunch of freakishly tall dark-eyed children, Iakov is going to be a ferocious father.
“But?” I prompt him.
“She’s my half-sister. Lost track of her when I was twelve. She was ten. Not seen her since.”
Interesting. How did I not know this? Then again, I suppose Pavel Kavinski, his cunt of a father, has always been remarkably good at keeping his business private.
“Your papa’s keeping her locked in a tower, huh?” I ask Iakov.
He doesn’t react. “Something like that.”
He tells me about the dead end he’s at, and then he looks at me solemnly, like a soldier about to give up his life for cause and country.
“I need your help, Fletch. Please.”
Would I help Iakov if I didn’t need something out of him? I ponder the question idly. It would be a fun challenge, I suppose, to pit my wit against Pavel Kavinski’s. And I do have a soft spotfor Iakov. There’s probably rather a lot I’d do for him, if he asked, even if I didn’t need anything.
Unfortunately for him, in this instance, Idohave something I need.
“Certainly,” I tell Iakov in my friendliest voice. “Ofcourse. How could I not help a dear old friend? But I wouldn’t say no to a courteous little exchange of favours.”
“I’m not killing anyone for you,” Iakov blurts out.
I laugh. He’s so delightfully grim.
“My enemies don’t deserve death,” I tell him. “Death isn’t a punishment—it’s a reward.”
He doesn’t argue it. Maybe he agrees with me, or maybe he can’t be bothered.
I walk over to the black lacquered cabinet near the bar and grab the white envelope I prepared just for him.
“I’m hunting a particularly slippery hare.” I smile at him. “The dogs and foxes can’t keep up. This one calls for an apex predator. A wolf withkillerinstinct.”
Without ceremony, Iakov turns the envelope upside down, spilling its contents across the glass table. He rifles through my collection of documents: the pictures and screenshots and scanned fake passports and IDs.
He picks up the scans of the fake passports, going through the collection of Sasha’s fake names.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
And isn’tthatthe question.
Iakov agrees to findher for me, just like I knew he would. I give him his instructions, telling him I’ll contact him themoment Sasha reappears at CHOKE. On his way out, Iakov says the most amusing thing.
“I won’t find her just so you can hurt her.”
I can’t help it. I let out a loud, ugly laugh.
I don’t want tohurtSasha as much as I want to completelydestroyher. I want to install myself as the god-emperor of her world and claim every last scrap of her existence as mine. And even then, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Still playing white knight to broken girls, Kav?” I ask Iakov.
He looks me dead in the eyes; he doesn’t look away the way everybody else does. Whatever malevolence others sense in me, Kav beholds head-on, refusing to flinch.
