Chapter 20
D iane stood opposite Volkov as he held Anya in his arms. His daughter appeared happy; she was giggling and grabbing at her father’s fingers. Volkov looked at Anya adoringly. The man did indeed love his daughter. At any other time, the scene before her would be charming. A doting father playing with his daughter. Anya was happy and safe, but Megan? She was scared and alone somewhere.
“Where’s my daughter?” She fought to keep her voice calm, not wanting him to see just how petrified she felt.
“All in good time, Mrs. Williams. She’s safe and nothing will happen to her if you do what I ask.”
“I’m not doing anything until I see Megan.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You are not in a position to negotiate.” He nodded at the man next to her who left the room. Moments later he was back, holding Melanie Costas. Wide, frightened eyes pleaded silently for help as muffled sounds came from her duct-taped mouth. The man took out a gun and placed it at her temple, Volkov turned away, blocking his daughter’s view.
Diane gasped. “No!”
“I don’t think you’ve met Melanie Costas, Natasha’s lawyer. If you do not cooperate, she dies first. Your choice.” Volkov shrugged like it was no big deal.
Melanie strained against the man’s grip, trying to speak through the tape. She looked close to Diane’s age. She wore a smart gray work suit, with a white blouse. A stark red-purple bruise had bloomed on her cheek. Diane recoiled feeling sick.
“Alright! What do you need me to do?” Jesus, these men were animals. Whatever it took to get them all out of here safely, she would do it.
Volkov nodded at the man again and he dragged Melanie away.
“Come, sit.” He motioned to a seat at the dining table.
As she walked toward the table, she took in her surroundings. They were in a house. It had been about a twenty-minute drive, but her sense of direction under the hood had been lost. The house looked expensive, but not the taste she would expect from a man like Volkov. Antique furniture and old china in glass cabinets, adorned the rooms, surprising her. It didn’t match the designer suits and flashy cars Volkov paraded around in. They had been standing in the living room in front of a fireplace. The mantel held pictures of cats. No pictures of Volkov or Anya. The dining table divided the living area from the kitchen. Diane pulled out a chair and sat down, willing herself to remain calm. You can do this, Diane. For Megan . Megan was OK. She had to be OK.
For the hundredth time, Diane doubted her decision not to tell Steve. But he would find the note, and he would have seen the text messages by now. He must be going out of his mind. He wouldn’t stop until he found them. Of that much she was certain.
“Tell me, Mrs. Williams. What exactly does your husband do in the Navy?” Volkov stood beside the table glowering at her as he handed his daughter off to another man who took her from the room.
Diane swallowed. Shit. Had he found out about Onyx?
“He’s a petty officer,” she said.
She didn’t see it coming. His hand connected with her face. The hard slap snapped her head to the side. She screamed, clasping her stinging cheek.
“You think I wouldn't find out? He’s a Navy SEAL. One of the US military’s most elite.”
Diane faced him, determined not to cry.
“What does it matter what he is? He has nothing to do with the hearing and the work I am doing for you.”
“No, he doesn’t, and yet his team are now involved in my business. Just how much did you share with your husband?”
“Nothing. I take attorney-client privacy seriously.”
This time she was ready. She instinctively braced. When his fist landed just above her right eye, the skin split.
“Don’t lie to me. Tell me what they know.”
“I have no idea. Steve doesn’t discuss his work with me, and I don’t discuss mine with him. I’m your family lawyer. Why would I share custody details with him?”
“You were digging around in my business, asking about Arnold Janssen, poking your nose in where it didn’t need to be. Were you trying to find information to pass along to him? Or the FBI? Tip them off about the sarin?” His voice had risen considerably, but he stopped abruptly, as if realizing he’d said too much.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Diane said. “I don't understand what I’m doing here? Where’s Megan?”
When Volkov’s fist connected with her head, she fell off-balance and crashed to the floor. She lay there, eyes closed, and listened as Volkov spoke to Oleg.
“You destroyed her phone?” Volkov asked.
“Yes, but that does not mean they won’t be able to access the photos and text you sent. You should—”
“Don’t tell me what I should and should not do. They are already on to me. They know! They are probably watching every airport and border, waiting for me to show my face.”
Volkov sounded slightly panicked. Diane remained still, straining to hear.
“Hakim is moving forward with the attack, we have to be on that plane by three today. I do not want to be here when they release the sarin. Hakim assured me the plane would be ready and untraceable.”
“Are you sure you trust him?”
“Yes. We made a deal. A plane out of here for Mrs. Williams. The Aziz brothers are going to use her to draw the SEALs to him, so they can finish them once and for all. I have no doubt the plane will be there.”
“Very well. And Natasha’s lawyer?”
“We will let the sarin take care of her. Then she cannot tell anyone anything.”
Diane held her breath in a moment of silence. Who the hell were the Aziz brothers? Hakim?
Suddenly, she was hauled up and taken from the room. Oleg marched her through the kitchen to a set of stairs which he pushed her down ahead of him.
The basement. The space was unfinished and being used for storage. Light came through the small windows at street level, but some were blocked by boxes. Melanie Costas and Natasha were sitting together on an old sofa. Natasha was crying and Melanie was trying to comfort her.
“Where’s Megan?”
She turned to face Oleg, only to see him closing the door at the top of the stairs and locking her in with the others.
“Where’s Megan? Where’s my daughter?” she asked the two women on the sofa.
“Your daughter? The only child I’ve seen is Anya,” Melanie said.
“He sent me a picture. He said he had my daughter. That’s why I came.”
Diane ran up the stairs and banged on the door.
“Where’s Megan? Tell me where she is, you bastard!”
She banged on the door until her fists hurt. No one answered, no one came. Giving up, she crumpled to the floor in tears. What had he done with her baby?