Chapter Fifty
NADYA FOLLOWS PETER to a run-down gym on a busy street. It’s large and filled with old equipment and mats and smells of sweat. There are men using the weight machines, but not a woman in sight. ‘Konstantin is here?’ she asks.
‘He owns the place,’ Peter tells her.
That gives her pause. ‘Is this where you spend your time?’ she asks him. She knows he works out a lot.
‘Sometimes,’ her son answers. ‘His office is through here.’
Peter leads her down a hall to a closed door and knocks. ‘Come in,’ she hears. It’s a man’s deep voice, with a slight Russian accent.
She takes a deep breath and steps in after Peter.
The first thing that strikes her is that Konstantin is much older than she expected.
For some reason she thought he’d be closer in age to her son, that he was more a friend than a boss.
But this man is her age and owns the gym.
She realizes she can’t speak to him the way she speaks to her son.
Suddenly her mouth is so dry she can’t speak at all.
‘So, you are Peter’s mother,’ he says. He smiles at her.
She smiles awkwardly back. They stand staring at each other. He’s a big man, powerfully built. Nadya asks herself what the hell she’s doing. She wants to apologize for bothering him and flee. But somehow, she stays.
‘Please, sit,’ Konstantin says, offering her a chair. They all sit down. There is a large, long window that looks out over the gym. She notices that it is smeared with fingerprints. She wants to give it a good clean.
‘So,’ Konstantin begins, ‘what did you want to see me about?’
She shoots a glance at her son, who looks down at his feet.
For fuck’s sake, Peter didn’t even tell him what this was about?
She glares at her son for a second, but he isn’t looking at her.
She turns to Konstantin, who apparently has no idea why she asked to see him.
She clears her throat. Trying to find some common ground, she says, ‘I am from Nizhny Novgorod originally.’
‘That’s nice,’ he says.
‘I work as a cleaning lady for the Westcotts.’
‘I know.’
‘And I know,’ she says, feeling a little braver – he doesn’t look that scary – ‘that my son here copied my key to the Westcotts’ brownstone and took their security code off my phone.
’ He continues to stare at her. ‘And I know that you planted hidden cameras in their house. And that those cameras caught them admitting they deliberately murdered Greg Westcott for his money.’
Konstantin’s eyes have narrowed, and he’s not looking at her any more but at her son. He is no longer smiling. ‘Is that so?’ Konstantin says.
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Peter says cravenly. ‘She wanted to meet you.’
‘You told her,’ Konstantin says, ‘about the cameras.’
Nadya watches her son grow pale.
‘No.’ Peter shakes his head. ‘She already knew about the cameras. The Westcotts told her about them. They accused her of putting them there.’
Konstantin bites the side of his cheek and studies them both. ‘But you told her what was on the cameras?’ He glares at Peter. ‘Do you think that was a good idea? Are you an idiot?’
Nadya watches her son cringe and steps in to rescue him.
‘No. He didn’t tell me anything. I figured it out myself.
When the Westcotts accused me of planting the cameras, they were really scared.
So I knew they must have said something bad, and I figured it must be about what happened on that boat.
Peter only admitted it when I pushed him.
And I know why you planted those cameras.
You are going to blackmail them, right?’
Konstantin bursts into laughter. ‘Your mother, she’s a lot smarter than you, eh, Peter?’ He laughs some more. Then he turns serious. ‘You don’t want to get involved in this,’ he says to her. ‘You want to forget all about it and go home and clean houses. And that will be the end of it.’
Nadya isn’t going to do that. She’s come this far. ‘No. I think I deserve a share, for providing the key and the security code,’ she says.
Konstantin’s eyebrows go up. But he doesn’t say anything.
She can see him thinking, weighing his options, wondering how much of a problem she might be.
She thinks of the Russian proverb: He who doesn’t take risks, never drinks champagne.
She says abruptly, ‘I want a million dollars. And a million for Peter. And then I’ll forget I know anything about this. ’
She waits through the long, excruciating silence as he thinks about it. She can feel Peter vibrating with nerves beside her.
‘Okay,’ he says at last.
She blinks her eyes at him in surprise and relief.
She thinks about what that money will do for them, the difference it will make.
She will stop cleaning houses. She will move away, encourage Peter to come with her, and start over somewhere else.
She’s still relatively young; she still has some life to live.
And the Westcotts are cold-blooded murderers. They should pay. ‘There’s one more thing. Something I think you should know,’ she says, and tells him about Lara and Ben Donleavy.
‘Oh, I know all about that,’ he tells her.
Ted has realized that he’s made mistakes – terrible, costly mistakes – because he reacted too quickly to things as they happened, without taking the time to think.
It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a couple of weeks – crazy, disorienting weeks – since they discovered the cameras.
It’s only in the last couple of days that he’s actually been able to think things through, to come up with a possible solution.
Because on the weekend they’d received another text. WE WILL WAIT UNTIL THE ESTATE COMES THROUGH AND YOU GET THE MONEY. DON’T WANT TO RAISE ANY RED FLAGS. Reading it, Ted immediately felt a sense of relief. It gave him the luxury of time. It gave him the ability to think.
Now, he returns home in the evening and approaches Jill, who looks at him warily from where she’s standing by the fireplace nursing a glass of wine.
He smiles tentatively at her. ‘Jill, we need to play a longer game.’
‘What does that mean?’ she says, setting her wineglass down on the mantle.
‘We have to be smart – and tough.’ He feels strong.
All of this, as awful as it has been, has shown him what he’s made of.
He doesn’t like what’s happened, but at least now he knows who he is.
He’s not a soft, effete product of privilege.
He’s much more than that. He has been tested, and he has found a way to survive.
It’s been a revelation. Who knows what he might do next?
‘I don’t think I can stand this much longer,’ she says, turning away.
He grabs her gently by her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. ‘We need to be strong, Jill.’
‘I don’t feel strong.’
He says urgently, ‘You are strong. Remember what you were like before? That Jill is still there. I would never have done this if I didn’t think you could handle it.’ She gives him a reproachful look. ‘We have to hang on, Jill. Play a longer game. Because I think I see a way out of this.’