Chapter Thirty-Seven
In which Nikandr finally pulls his head out of his ass.
Nikandr…
Underneath the Morozov Global office building, we have a warren of holding cells with one-way mirrors so we can watch our captives being questioned, fall apart, and start begging for their lives.
Two guards have brought Caroline into this cell, handcuffing her to the table.
They're not rough. They're careful, because I told them I would put a bullet between their eyes if they roughed up my wife.
Alexsey, Dmitri and Roman are standing next to me on this side of the mirror.
Andrey is handling the questioning, because no matter how intimidating any of us can look, Andrey is downright spooky.
"You don't have to see this if you don't want to," Dmitri says, sending a concerned glance in my direction. I keep my eyes on Caroline. She looks frightened, but there's a tight set to her mouth that tells me she's also angry.
Good girl.
"It does look like her reports about killing Krasniqi are true," Alexsey says. "The whole oxygen tube maneuver? That was fucking art."
The microphone goes live, and Andrey strolls into the room, polished and terrifying in his hand-made Kiton suit.
We look so much alike, but his face never deviates from its cold, set lines.
He seats himself across from Caroline, who is looking at him with that same angry, twist to her mouth.
Andrey stares at her for a long time, tapping his finger with a metronomic regularity on the metal table.
Caroline's eyes narrow as she puts on that cool, pleasant face I see when she's at work. I know what he's waiting for; that she'll crack and burst out babbling excuses, apologies, or tears. This goes on for two minutes. I know this because Roman has timed it
"Damn, that is one hell of a show in there," he says, shaking his head. "I've never seen someone hold out this long on Andrey."
"When we searched Johann's house, we found a good amount of intel on his plans.
He'll switch some of his operations, of course, now that he knows he's been exposed.
However, we've already shut down two of the groups he uses for robbery and chaos," I say.
"There's no question, this asshole is Novikov. "
"And Caroline is reporting to him." Dmitri’s arms are folded as he watches the staring match on the other side of the mirror.
I hate Dmitri, even though he's likely correct.
"We know that she went there willingly," I reluctantly agree. "However, Caroline is still holding on to her claim that she thought she could get him to leave Liria alone. She repeated the same story with all the same details yesterday when Liria visited my penthouse."
"I knew you'd have that recorded, of course," Alexsey says approvingly. "That definitely leaves room for doubt. Liria was so fucking incensed when she heard that we'd taken Caroline into custody."
Finally, at four minutes and fifteen seconds, Andrey speaks first. "I had thought you were brighter than this," he says. The weight of his judgment settles on Caroline, but she doesn't move a muscle.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," she says. "I was trying to protect Liria."
"If you were trying to protect Liria, it seems that you should've contacted Alexsey with a report of these alleged threats. Or perhaps even your own husband."
"I don't know if you've noticed this, being so high in your ivory tower, but the entire Bratva is under fire. It didn't seem like the time to ask someone to give me a hand with the crazy guy."
Andrey's finger never stops tapping, and she glances at it every now and then. It's annoying the fuck out of me; it's one of his favorite techniques. "You know what the Morozov Bratva does with traitors, don't you?"
My wife doesn't look angry, or frightened.
She looks terribly sad. "I can tell my story a thousand times in the same order with all the right details," she says.
"But you're going to kill me anyway. You're going to use the excuse that because my brothers were traitors - which they were - that this clearly shows that I'm a traitor to the Morozovs, too.
I'm not. But at least it'll ease your conscience when you pull the trigger. "
The others are silent, watching the conversation and I absently rub the heel of my hand over my chest. It shouldn't be aching.
This is the right course of action.
The questions go on for another hour. Andrey circles back to earlier questions, rephrasing them in a slightly different way, she sticks to her points and he can't shake her loose.
He casually alludes to torture and all the different ways that we have used to get traitors to talk in the past, and she just looks more heartbroken, rather than terrified.
Toward the end, Andrey doesn't say anything, staring at her for another five minutes with that goddamn finger still tapping.
Without saying anything else, he gets up and leaves the room. Caroline looks at the mirror and it's obvious she knows someone's behind it. A tear trickles down her cheek and she turns her head away from us, wiping it off her face.
"Extremely stubborn," Andrey says, putting his hands in his pockets as he looks at Caroline disapprovingly. "I can't tell you if she is a traitor, it's very clear that she believes she did the right thing."
We all watch Caroline. Her face is still averted and her hand goes up to quickly wipe away another tear.
"I believe her." It bursts out of me, unplanned, but when the words are out of my mouth, I believe them, absolutely. "I don't believe that she betrayed us. She killed Dritan, that's a strong point in her favor."
"It's not enough," Dmitri says evenly. "The main point here is that she still went to him willingly. She flew into Boston and abandoned her security."
My eyes never leave my wife on the other side of the glass. "She didn't betray us, I know it. She's loyal and I shouldn't have treated her the way I did."
"You can claim this without any proof?" Andrey says. He's not angry. His tone is mildly curious.
I shake my head. "I believe her. I should not have doubted her."
Roman and Dmitri exchange glances, but Alexsey grins, slapping my shoulder. "I believe her, too."
Andrey looks disappointed with the both of us and checks his watch. "I have a court date," he says, and leaves another word.
Dmitri searches my face and finally lets out a long sigh. "If you believe her, then we have to as well," he says. "But I am placing a separate tail on her and her security."
My wife doesn't need a secret security detail, but I know this is a big concession from Dmitri.
"Of course. I'm still working on the encrypted data from Johann's computer with Kolya," I say. "We have a meeting later this evening."
Dmitri nods, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "I look forward to a report," he says.
"I'll call you as soon as we're done with the meeting." I say. "And now, I'm going to take my wife home."
My hand grips the doorknob tightly. She hates me, I'm fairly certain. Everyone else left the room, which shows a strong survival instinct on their part.
Caroline's head shoots up when I open the door and she stares at me, eyes wide and disbelieving. I kneel next to her chair.
"I believe you. I should have known from the moment I saw you in Johann's murder palace that you were innocent." Her hands are closed into fists, but she's not punching me in the face so I take one in my hand, smoothing out her fingers and kissing each one.
"This must have been two horrible days for you.
Yet, you held up under Andrey's questioning, which pretty much proves your innocence," I shake my head.
"Grown men have wet themselves when he sits in that chair and stares at them.
" She doesn't say anything, searching my face, at least she lets me keep her hand in mine. “Can you forgive me for not believing you immediately? I have no real excuse aside from…” I’m searching for the right words, the ones that will take that pain away from her. “I’m not used to trusting… people. The thought that you went to him willingly almost killed me. But I should have known better. I know you. I trust you. Now, I will spend as many years as you like making it up to you. Plokhoy kot, I am so sorry.”
“I’m going to need a minute.” She looks down at her hand, still cuffed to the table. “Can you get me out of this?”
Uncuffing her hand, I help her up from the table.
Her knees give out and I slip my arm quickly around her waist, steadying her for a minute.
“Let’s go home.” She lets me lead her out of the room, the building, and into the parking garage where her Maybach SUV is waiting, Rafail and Isaak are standing by it.
"Hello, Mrs. Morozova," Rafail says with a guarded smile. He knows that if I'm bringing her out, I believe she didn't betray us.
"Hi guys," she says. "I'm so truly sorry for running out on you and putting you in a terrible position.
" Isaak smiles, showing his big, blocky teeth and opens the back door invitingly.
The ride home is silent. Caroline is staring out the window.
Once I take her up the elevator to our penthouse, I let Rafail and Isaak search it quickly and then send them back down.
"Are you sure Sovietnik?" Rafail looks uncertain.
"Yes," I say firmly. "My wife and I will be fine." When it's just us, I cup her cheek, and she doesn't pull back. "I ordered dinner in for tonight."
Finally, she looks at me and clears her throat. "There's marzipan cake for dessert." I fight to push down the victorious grin that wants to spread across my face. She still loves me.
Caroline takes a very long, hot shower. So do I, in the guest bathroom.
I pull on some sweats and reluctantly add a t-shirt.
The sweatpants only move is probably not the right message to send for tonight.
She's casually dressed too, in leggings and a loose pink sweater, her hair piled up on top of her head.
She always looks so pretty with the curls tumbling down the side of her face.
"Stroganoff and pelmeni," I say, bringing the bags to the table. She's already laid out the silverware and plates and she looks up with excitement.
"Oh god, pelmeni," she says happily. "I've missed those."
I'm no fool. The way to a woman's forgiveness is through her stomach. We eat silently for a while until she finally looks up, toying with her fork. "Why did you decide to believe me?"
Leaning back, I take a gulp of vodka as I consider my answer.
"Because I knew you were telling the truth," I say.
"I know your loyalty to Liria has passed over to the rest of us.
I know you would never hurt this family.
It's a gift I didn't appreciate until now.
You must've been terrified, meeting up with that psychotic fuck.
Then, our unwelcome reception –" she lets out a loud, unladylike snort.
"That certainly didn't make you feel any safer. "
Caroline shakes her head, looking out the window, New York spread out below us like a carpet of stars.
"I've spent the last two days certain that one of you was going to come in at any moment to shoot me.
" She looks up at me. "I really hoped that it was not going to be you.
I could take one of the other guys, Andrey, maybe because he's crazy but I was so scared it would be you. "
"Never," I say, reaching over to take her hand. "You're never going to be afraid of your place in this family again. Never."
***
Caroline is asleep on the couch by the time I wrap up my meeting with Kolya.
"That crazy fuck must be very confident," he says, power chugging a Celsius drink.
"He didn't even try to erase the encrypted data.
There is a shit ton of information here; trade routes, other families that he's spoken to and an extremely, disturbingly detailed journal of all of the Krasniqi techniques he's used on us and plenty more that he'd planned out.
I don't think we can trust the Kuznetsov Bratva again.
They've been working with him for the last nine months while still doing business with us. Two-faced pricks."
"You've done incredible work here," I say warmly. "When we are finished burying Johann Novikov, I'm buying you a beach house down to the Keys." His whole face brightens as he almost spills his Celsius on his keyboard.
“Shit, really?" He's almost swooning. He has pasty white skin and burns at the slightest hint of sun, but he has stubbornly maintained that a little place in Key West would change his luck for the better with the ladies. And his ability to tan. "Well," he grins, "back to work!"
Ending the call and strolling over to Caroline, I sit on the coffee table, watching her sleep.
I know how terror and uncertainty can drain you faster than a 10K, and she's had one hell of a day.
I felt like a fist punched me in the chest when she said she'd expected one of us to come in and shoot her.
For forty-eight fucking hours, she waited for her death.
Carrying her into the master bedroom, I lay her down on our bed and pull up the covers. I stroke her cheek, loving the feel of her smooth skin. I wish I could climb into bed with her. There's one more thing to do before I can wrap myself around her.
Opening in a box in my closet, I hold up one of her wind chimes.
Liria pulled me aside the night of our impromptu dinner party and told me what happened with Caroline's belongings, how heartbroken she was about her windchimes.
The silversmith I took the broken ones to did a beautiful job of restoring them. Now, it's time to hang them up.
It doesn't take long to screw in three hooks into the overhang of our terrace and I put them up. There's a steady breeze flowing past the penthouse tonight. When I hear the windchime's music, I tip my head back and smile, closing my eyes and listening to them sing.