Focus. Focus. Don’t let the anger blind me.
“It ate at Semy for the remainder of his life—seeing Mila and Ana die. I think it’s why he named his own child Mila, born to him before he went into prison. But that’s enough talking now. Move.”
“That drug haul had a street value of millions. That’s a lot to sacrifice just to put your cousin in prison.”
“Got a tip through a two-timing informant that the VPD was already onto the delivery. It was tainted. We were going to lose it anyway. So I switched out crews and put Milo and Semy on the job. Move!”
“No.” She stood her ground, hands clenching at her sides, clarity crystalizing fast, her mind growing harder, sharper. In her peripheral vision Angie noted various forest paths leading out of this clearing, all possible escape routes through the woods. “Tell me first what happened that night at the cradle. How did Semy and Milo allow us to escape? How was it their fault?”
He moistened his lips.
“Come on, Oly, you brought me all the way here.” A sour taste rose up Angie’s gullet at the shape of this man’s name in her mouth, her own father’s name. “Getting me here must have taken some serious effort. So why rush it now? Why not let me know what happened that Christmas Eve before I die?”
He inhaled, a hint of amusement beginning to toy at the corners of his mouth. “Semy and Milo and another man—Ivanski—were supposed to guard you and Mila and your mother plus two others. You were being kept in an apartment in the city while waiting for word to come from contacts at the port so that you could be put aboard a ship.”
“What ship?” she said quickly.
“The start of your journey to Saudi Arabia. I’d sold you to a prince there, for his harem. Top dollar. He wanted to groom you and Mila from very young. I threw Ana into the bargain to act as a chaperone. Then, while you were all holed up in that apartment, awaiting the signal, the men were drinking a little too much that Christmas Eve. They were running out of vodka. Your mother saw her chance. She came on to Semy, who was vulnerable to her charms, far too vulnerable.”
“He loved her, didn’t he?”
Oly’s face blackened, and it made his eyes ice-light, like a Viking marauder. But he ignored Angie’s question. Which told her that she was right. She knew now—at the heart of it—why Semy had been punished. Why her father had found a way to tip off police to the drug bust. Why Semy had been forced to watch this red man kill Mila and their mother.
“Ana suggested Semy go out in the van to buy more drink. The guys were bored. They’d been there for days. Semy agreed. When he left, Ana dead-bolted the door and, feigning inebriation herself, encouraged Ivanski and Milo to finish the remains of the vodka, and she offered herself to them. She had sex with them both. Then while they were lulled and starting to doze, she grabbed you two from the next room and fled.”
The semen on her purple sweater. No time to put my shoes on as we ran into the snow where the Chinese senior at the Pink Pearl restaurant saw us.
“What about the other two women you say were there?”
“In the next room. High as kites. Didn’t know a thing.”
“It was Milo and Ivanski who chased us?”
“Semy returned with the van at midnight. He saw Milo and Ivanski chasing you all across the street into that alley. He pulled up, heard gunshots, saw your mother fighting with them as she tried to put you and your sister into that cradle. Milo cut your face when he tried to stab Ana. He knew it was you twins that were the valuable commodity. Ana was expendable. But she fought back, and Milo’s blade caught your face. She got you into the cradle. Semy drove around to the other side of the alley, and that’s when the church bells started ringing and all the churchgoers started coming out. Milo and Ivanski grabbed Ana and your sister and fled to Semy in the waiting van. But you—” He tutted his tongue and tried to touch her scar again. “You were the one who got away, but there, he left his mark.”
She took a fast step back from his touch. His eyes narrowed, and his neck corded. A flush of anger colored his cheeks.
Don’t break his roll now. Buy time, buy time. Angie forced herself to stand her ground.
“Why did you sell us, your own children? Why did you even keep us here in the first place?”
He gave an irritable shrug. “I have a wife. Ana was an indulgence. The Saudi visited and saw you two. Little twin redheads. Fresh as daisies. You intrigued a man with enough money to buy several small countries. He offered me a deal I could not refuse. Now, move.” He waved his gun at her. “Or I kill you here now.”
Angie turned, walked slowly, her brain racing. Long grass, dewy, dampened the bottom of her jeans. Water dripped from trees. The scent of moist loam and moss was rich, familiar. She’d come all the way back to this place that had been locked inside her memory. Mila’s foot had brought her here. Full circle. Back to where her twin had lost her life and her mother had died. Angie had finally found the truth, and now she, too, would die.
As she walked she glimpsed a building through the trees—big. Built of logs. Green roof. A chopper squatted on a tiny helipad near it. That must be the craft she arrived in. An old woman in black watched from the windows in the distance. Angie stilled, pulse quickening.
“My mother,” Kaganov said, waving at the woman to shoo her away from the window. “Mothers are important, not so, Roksana?”
Rage mushroomed in her. Evil—he was pure fucking evil, enjoying this. She whirled to confront him, but he raised his hand up high and smote the butt of his gun down hard across her face. Pain exploded through her cheek. She staggered sideways under the blow. Bent over, she clamped her hand over her cheek. Blood leaked warm through her fingers. She could smell it, taste it—her own blood. Before she could regroup, he kicked her hard in the side of her leg, forcing her to stumble sideways.
“Go, I said. Walk. We’ve got to make it across to the other side of the island. I need to return to my guests by lunch.”
CHAPTER 55
Through the floatplane window Maddocks scanned the densely forested coastline below with his scopes. His old friend Craig Bennett flew the plane. Bennett was ex-military and had contracted with the RCMP as a pilot. His bird had only visual flight capability, so they’d had to wait until the early light of dawn before taking off.
Bennett’s voice came through Maddocks’s headphones as he banked his craft to the west. “There she is, Semko Island and the lodge.”