Page 16 of Cruel Demands

“With becoming comfortable.”

Her tone cools. “I am not comfortable.”

“You called my private number before eight in the morning.”

“You gave me this number.”

“So I could reach you. Not so that you could reach me.”

“I take it back. Maybe you are the backward statesmen I thought you were.”

“And maybe you are not the right the person for the position of Minister of Education.”

The line goes quiet. Mama stops pretending not to listen.

I lean back in my chair.

Olga’s position as Minister of Education for Moscow Oblast was not a gift. She is qualified. Intelligent. Persistent. Capable of turning a ten-minute budget meeting into a moral trial conducted entirely through narrowed eyes.

But qualifications are abundant. Appointments are not.

Her name reached the regional assembly because I did not object. The committee chairman supported her because he knew I did. The men who confirmed her understood that she would not become inconvenient to them unless I permitted it.

Olga knows this in theory. I want her to feel it.

“The regional assembly confirmed me,” she says carefully.

“Do you think they arrived at that decision alone? Do you think no one opposed you? I am a powerful friend to have, Olga, and an even more powerful enemy. It would do you well to act like you know it.”

Mama’s lips press together.

Olga’s voice quiets. “I earned this position.”

“Yes,” I say. Mama sets down her cup hard enough to make the spoon jump against the saucer. I glance at her. She shakes her head at me. “And so did many others.”

Olga breathes out slowly. “I called to say thank you.”

“And now you understand the appropriate amount of gratitude.”

“You enjoy making people hate you.”

“Hate is reliable.”

My other phone begins vibrating on the sideboard. Only five men have that number. One is dead. Arkady’s name appears on the screen.

Mama sees the change in my face. Olga continues speaking, but I no longer hear the words. Arkady does not call this early unless something has happened that cannot be entrusted to a message.

“I will sign your proposal this afternoon,” I say. “Now that you understand me.”

“Governor Korolev⁠—”

I end the call.

Mama watches as I stand and retrieve the second phone. “Sit,” she says.

“I need to take this.”

“You are eating breakfast.”