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Iakov is the closest I have ever come to genuinely liking somebody. A man of principle, like Woodrow, but someone who’s not afraid of getting his hands a little dirty. I don’t know much about Iakov’s background, but I do know a lot about his father, the Russian oligarch Pavel Kavinski.
He’s even frequented CHOKE a few times, though he’s always been too careful to get caught up in my net. Pavel Kavinski is nothing short of a complete cunt—the apple must have fallen quite far from the tree for Iakov to turn out the way he did.
Out of every one of my old school friends, Iakov is the only one I find myself missing. He’s the reason I got Cerberus. I always thought I wouldn’t mind having an Iakov in my life. A strong, silent presence that would make me feel safe without ever requiring emotion, words or even acknowledgement from me. Three black Dobermans fit the bill nicely.
But more than an old school friend I remember fondly, Iakov Kavinski is just the kind of man I need right now. He’s principled, hard-working, he has a killer instinct and, best of all, he has something he’s looking for which he cannot seem to find.
I don’t know exactly what yet. I keep tabs on him just as much as all my old school friends, the former Spearcrest Kings, but there are still many parts of Iakov’s life that remain a mystery to me. All I know is that he’s been working away quite diligently in Russia—working hard and getting his hands dirty. This tells me that whatever Iakov’s after, it’s more important to him than his sense of morality.
And that’s saying a lot because Iakov Kavinski is, above all things, a man with a conscience.
There’s nothing I could possibly say or do to compel Iakov to come and see me. Whenever he visits the country, he always takes time to visit our other friends, in particular Bishop Blackwood, to whom he feels a particular attachment for reasons I myself cannot comprehend.
But this time, Iakov is searching for something, and I’m the best person to go to when you need something found. He won’t want to ask me for a favour, of course—nobody ever does.
But that’s the thing about favours. People don’t ask for them because they want to. They ask because they don’t have a choice.
Iakov looks, somehow, exactlythe same as he did back in Spearcrest, minus the uniform. Same buzz cut, same black clothes and battered boots, same bleakness in the eyes. Iakov has always been the least emotional of my so-called friends, but I suspect he has an entire universe of pain all curled up inside of him.
Whether he’s unwilling or incapable of letting it out, I’m not sure.
Iakov unleashed would be, I’m certain, a sight to behold.
“Well, and how have you been, Knuckles?” I ask him when he finally comes to my house to ask for the thing he needs.
“You tell me, Fletch.”
I laugh. Iakov has never been one for games or for beating around the bush.
“By the sounds of it, you’ve been doing a lot of hitting skulls together for your dad and his dodgy friend, hiding in your bachelor pad in Chertanovo, and you’ve hit a dead end in your little quest.” I pause. “How far off am I?”
He doesn’t seem remotely surprised by how much I’ve been keeping tabs on him. He doesn’t even seem annoyed.
“Not far off,” he says. “You didn’t even mention what video game I’ve been playing or the colour of my boxers.”
“Probably some dragon fucking game and probably black.”
“You know me so well.” His voice and eyes are both devoid of expression.
“You’re just about as predictable as crooked dice.”
He sits back on the couch, settling in. Making himself comfortable. Getting himself ready to tell me the reason he’s come here.
He does spit it out, in the end, when I interrupt our light banter with a not-so-light question.
“Who is it you’re looking for anyway?”
He doesn’t even flinch. He answers immediately.
“A girl. Yelena Orlova.”
A girl.Of course. Isn’t it always a girl with the Spearcrest Kings?
“So that’s who you went to that St Petersburg school to find? Got yourself a schoolgirl for a girlfriend, Kav?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
