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“Your friend is alive.”
“Did you let her go?”
“Ask her yourself.”
“I don’t have my phone,” I told him, wanting to reach through Theresa’s phone and strangle him.
“I’ll give her this number.”
I paused, struggling to catch my breath. “Thank you,” I choked out and ended the call. “Someone’s going to call or message you from an unknown Russian number,” I said to Theresa. “Please answer it.”
I was too ashamed to tell her why, but a few minutes later a text message came through.
I’m okay. I’m free. Flying to Paris. Done with this shit. Will keep you updated. Stay safe.
I texted her back with shaking fingers.Tell me the word.
There was a word we used to make sure we were really messaging each other and a moment later it came through.Orange Julius.
It was from an American song we both loved as kids and when we looked up what it was, it seemed so deliciously decadent, we started using it as a secret password for everything. Only now could I really breathe. My sacrifice had been worth it. Relief made me sink to the floor in a heap, dragging one of the fancy silk dresses with me.
Theresa sat down beside me, looking me over with worry in her eyes. “You’re shaking,” she said.
“I’m okay.”
She leaned down to force me to look at her. “You are okay here, you know. Yuri’s not like your father.”
I nodded, getting myself together and under the tight control I needed to survive. Yes, Yuri wasn’t like my father, not the worst violent parts of him anyway. But he was the same in that he was part of everything I’d been hiding from since I ran from Moscow. The same in that he’d accepted the deal. I was only a pawn used to benefit the Morozovs and my father. But in his own way, Yuri was also a victim. He was not the one I wanted—needed—to destroy. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to gain strength from imagining my father’s downfall at these very hands.
“What does my father want, anyway?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Power, same as any of them, I suppose.”
Well, that wasn’t helpful, but it was a good sign she didn’t shut me down as quickly as Yuri had when I questioned her. I’d keep working on her, cultivate her friendship, earn her trust. Did I feel guilty? Sure. But it got edged out by my ballooning rage.
Theresa’s phone rang and she jumped to answer a video call. “It’s my nanny,” she said.
I nodded, hauling myself up to keep unpacking all my new clothes and goodies. I had to pretend I was fine, that everything was fine and I wasn’t a ticking time bomb.
I snuck a look over Theresa’s shoulder to see the nanny holding up a precious fat little baby. He was crying and biting at his fist and she twisted him around to show an ugly, red rash on the base of his back.
“Does this look like something I should call the pediatrician over?” she asked.
Theresa peered at the phone, even held it to show me, but I shook my head. I didn’t know the first thing about babies. “Let me get you on a conference call with the doctor,” she said, leaving the room.
I hurried to the doorway and peeked around the corner as Theresa hustled down the stairs. I waited a few seconds before making a dash for the office we’d passed. Grabbing the laptop, I jetted back into the bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom, which was bigger than my old apartment, without a single bit of exaggeration. There was a loveseat, for God’s sake, tucked away in a nook under a gilt-framed watercolor painting and two crystal wall sconces.
I sat down, running the bathwater while I tried to unlock Yuri’s computer, in case Theresa came back. I could always stash it under the counter and hop in the bath and she’d never be the wiser.
Casting my mind back, there were two passwords he used to use at the office. Once I got upgraded from my lowly intern position to being more useful to him and we became friendlier, he had grown sick of always stopping what he was doing to let me in the system and just told me the codes.
The first one was a bust, but the second one let me right in and I rubbed my hands together in triumph while I waited for the system to boot up. “Oh Yuri, I’m so glad you don’t take safety protocols too seriously.”
Snooping wasn’t my number one priority and I logged onto my internet email, groaning at the seven messages from my boss before he seemed to give up on me. How to explain what happened to me? I decided to stick as close to the truth as I could and told him I met someone from my past, we had a whirlwind romance and now I was married. I apologized, and stopped short of begging for another chance. Locking myself in the bathroom with this purloined computer for eight hours a day wasn’t an option, so I sent the email, hoping the company would at least not think poorly of me in case I ever needed them as a reference.
Next, I checked in on my class and found I was still registered. There was a report due, I was behind on some reading, but I hadn’t yet missed a test. Hope sprang up and I snuck back out to the hall, sticking my head over the banister to listen for Theresa. She wandered past, still talking on the phone. I waved down at her.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I called, miming sleepy hands near my cheek.
