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“Okay,” I say again. I never thought she didn’t.
“Promise me you won’t tell him what happened to me,” she says and lowers her voice. “I don’t want him to know I was a cat.”
“Okay,” I say again. “I’m not going to say anything you don’t want, but he’s going to expect me to say something.” I’m ashamed at my own relief. I wasn’t sure what would happen next. As angry as I am at Barron and Philip, as much as I hate them right now, if Zacharov knew what they did, he’d kill them. I’m not sure I want them dead.
Lila reaches out her hand for my phone. “You won’t be there. I’ll go by myself.”
I open my mouth, and she gives me a warning look that lets me know I better think carefully before I talk. “Look, just let me come with you on the train. I’ll take off once you’re wherever. Safe.”
“I can take care of myself,” she says, and there is a burr in her voice that sounds like a growl.
“I know that.” I hand her the phone.
“Good,” she says, flipping it open.
I frown as she punches in the numbers. Not telling Zacharov, even if it delays my need to make decisions, isn’t a solution. His life is in danger. We need a strategy. “You can’t think your dad is going to blame you? That’s crazy.”
“I think my father is going to feel sorry for me,” she says. I can hear the ringing on the other end.
“He’s going to think you were brave.”
“Maybe,” she says, “but he’s not going to think I can take care of myself.”
I hear a woman’s voice, and Lila puts the phone to her ear. “I’d like to talk with Mr. Ivan Zacharov.”
There is a long pause. Her lips press together into a thin line. “No, this is not a joke. He’ll want to talk to me.”
She kicks the wall with one too large boot. “Put him on the line!”
I raise my eyebrows. She covers the receiver with her hand. “They’re getting him,” she mouths.
“Hello, Daddy,” she says, closing her eyes.
A few moments later she says, “No, I can’t prove I’m me. How could I prove that?” I can hear his voice like a distant buzz, growing louder.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” she says tightly. “Don’t call me a liar. I am Lillian!”
She bites her lip and, after a few more moments, thrusts the phone in my direction. “Talk to him.”
“What do you want me to say?” I keep my voice low, but the prospect of talking to Mr. Zacharov makes my palms sweat.
She reaches over to a tray of brochures and shoves one at me. “Tell him to meet us there.”
I look down at it.
“He’s got a room at the Taj Mahal,” Lila hisses.
I take the phone. “Um, hello, sir,” I say into the receiver, but he’s still yelling. Finally it seems to register that she’s no longer on the line.
His voice is that of someone used to his commands being obeyed. “Where is she? Where are you now? Just tell me that.”
“She wants us to meet you in Atlantic City. She says you have a place there. At the Taj Mahal.”
The phone goes so silent that for a moment I think he hung up on me.
“What kind of setup am I walking into?” he says finally, slowly.
“She just wants you to meet her. Alone. Be there at nine tonight. And don’t tell anyone.” I don’t know how else to keep him from arguing, so I close the phone.
