‘What sort of a person is Romanov?’ an enraged caller asked. ‘How can he possibly sleep at night?’
Mikael yawned with boredom and turned the radio off.
When his phone rang, instead of letting it go to voicemail, as he usually would, Mikael saw that it was Demyan and took the call.
‘Any news?’ Mikael asked, because Demyan’s wife Alina was due to give birth soon.
‘We have a little girl—Annika.’ Demyan said, and Mikael rolled his eyes at the sound of his tough friend sounding so emotional. ‘She’s beautiful. Her hair is curly, like Alina’s…’
Demyan went on to describe interminable details to Mikael.
All babies had blue eyes, Mikael thought.
‘Congratulations,’ Mikael said. ‘Am I to visit while Alina is still in the hospital? What is the protocol?’
Demyan laughed. He took no offence. He knew that Mikael had no concept of family, for Mikael’s upbringing had been even harsher than Demyan’s.
‘You don’t have to come to the hospital,’ Demyan said, ‘but once this case is over it would be good if you could visit us before you disappear onto your yacht. I’m really looking forward to showing Annika off.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Mikael said. ‘It is closing arguments over the next couple of days, and then we await the verdict.’
‘How is the trial going?’ Demyan asked. ‘It is all over the news.’
‘Long,’ came Mikael’s honest answer. ‘It has been a very long couple of months.’
It had been an isolated couple of months too.
He always pretty much locked himself away from the world during a trial and, he admitted to Demyan, he was more than a little jaded from sitting with his client day in, day out.
‘He’s a fortunate man to have such a good solicitor.’
‘Barrister,’ Mikael corrected. ‘One day you will get it right. Anyway, enough about the trial. Go back to your beautiful wife and daughter, I am very pleased to hear the good news.’
Rather you than me, Mikael thought as he ended the call.
When Demyan had told him that he was marrying again Mikael had offered to draw up a watertight pre-nup this time, given how Demyan’s first wife had ripped him off for years.
Demyan had refused.
Fool! Mikael had not just thought it but had said it straight to Demyan’s face, but he had been told that he was far too cynical.
Guilty!
Absolutely Mikael was cynical—he believed nothing anyone told him and had been proved right numerous times.
Mikael trusted and needed no one in his life, for he had never had anyone.
There were a few vague memories of a communal flat when he was growing up, but not one person in particular he’d been able to turn to. Mikael had been his own protector—even when he had found himself on the streets.
Especially then.