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I grumbled but reached for my phone, squinting at the unfamiliar string of numbers on the too-bright display.
I felt a stab of worry. “The country code is Russian. This is coming from Moscow. I don’t know what it could be.”
“Just answer it,” Sadie said. “We have time. Like you said — this is just the beginning.”
I slid my finger across the screen to answer the call. “Yes, hello?” There was nothing on the other end of the line, so I tried again in Russian. “Da, zdravstvuyte?” I yanked on my pants.
“Mikhail Turgenev?”
It wasn’t a voice I recognized. I frowned. “That’s me. Who are you?”
“Captain Sergei Ivanov. I was a part of your parents’ security team.” Sergei. I knew this name, even if I couldn’t quite picture his face. I was pretty sure he was ex-KGB — and before that, military. The perfect experience to keep the Turgenev family safe.
The man was speaking Russian, and I switched back to my mother tongue too. “Was?”
“I regret to inform you that they were involved in a car wreck.” My ears buzzed so badly that I checked the connection of the call, certain it was on the fritz. When I put the phone back to my head, however, the next words came crystal clear. “They did not survive. I am sorry to tell you like this, Mr. Turgenev.”
Somehow, the buzzing in my ears extended inward, into my brain. Mr. Turgenev? As a young child, back in Russia, I’d been used to people calling my father that. But now he was gone. It was my title. My burden.
I struggled to swallow, my mouth bone dry, barely aware that Sadie was still beside me, silent, holding on to my arm with both her hands. Her small frame grounded me, somehow.
Patiently, Sergei elaborated. It had been late. Raining. Dark. The local authorities were still investigating the cause of the crash. No other vehicles involved. No witnesses. A high rate of speed. Multiple flips. Inside, crushed…
My parents gone.
“Mr. Turgenev. Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice. “Talk to me.”
“Are you aware of what your parents did for a living?”
“Am I — of course I’m aware,” I snapped. “What kind of question is that? I may be living in America, but I’m not ignorant. I was sent here to learn English. To get my education. So I could take on the business someday.” But that day wasn’t some fuzzy eventuality well into the future. It was now.
“Then I’m sure you understand just how many businesses and projects fell under their umbrella as industrial conglomerates,” Sergei continued smoothly, not mentioning my little outburst.
“I understand the broad picture,” I said, covering my eyes with my hand — and wishing I could do the same for my ears. If I could just ignore this call, would the entire situation disappear? A tugging at my elbow made me uncover my eyes. Sadie looked up at me, volunteering a small smile, even though she was confused. She didn’t follow the conversation at all, of course. But she was still here for me. “I will need to be informed about the details — including all their various holdings.”
“Yes, that is to be expected,” Sergei said. “Can I be candid with you, Mr. Turgenev?”
“Only if you call me Mikhail.” I couldn’t bear to be called “Mr. Turgenev” again.
“Mikhail, then.” There was a long pause, but I waited it out without checking that the call was connected. “I’m not convinced the car wreck was an accident. I have no idea what the police report is going to say. But there are people who want your fortune. And your family’s business is at a vulnerable point. You’re going to need to come back to Moscow and do whatever you can to keep it in your name. And then you’re going to have to travel to all the businesses your parents invested in to keep them in line.”
“Ebat,” I breathed. “Why are you telling me this? What do you care about my family’s business?”
“Your mother and father were my friends, Misha,” Sergei said. “Sure, they signed my paycheck. But I cared about them. And I want to see them avenged. Or whatever form of justice we can get.”
My thoughts were clouded with confusion, shock, sorrow, anger — too many emotions to name. But it was Sadie who brought me back to the present, squeezing my arm, pressing her little body up against mine. She was the only way I could even have this conversation.
“What do I need to do?”
“There’s a small airfield I’ve contracted to use near your apartment,” Sergei said. “And a private jet waiting for you. It won’t take off without you, but the sooner you get there, the better. There’s no time to waste.”
“All right,” I said after a brief pause to clear my throat. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll have to gather up a few things. Pack a bag. Tie up some loose ends.” I didn’t ask how he’d known my address. I knew enough about my parents’ various holdings to realize that they had access to plenty of resources to find someone.
“You’re a billionaire now,” he said. “The Turgenev fortune is yours. Just get on the plane, son. Anything you don’t have you can buy once you land.”
It was another blow to my already fragile reality. But he was right. My parents had always given me enough money to be comfortable, but it was a modest amount. Plus, I’d wanted to survive on my own. It was the whole point of the business venture with Jonathan. I didn’t want a handout.
