He nodded as if I were a pupil who had just given the right answer.
Would that give me some traction? Help me out of this situation?
I doubted it. Whatever my answer did, it didn’t change the fact that this person had threatened Priest and then handcuffed me to a pipe. His satisfaction and approval was only necessary to the extent it saved me from worse, but he was clearly unhinged. So I couldn’t bank on something as meaningless as fleeting approval to save me.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“Because you brought me here under the threat of harm to someone I care about?” I said.
“Yes. That is technically accurate.” He paused, looked at me. “You’re precise. That is a good quality. One I appreciate.”
“Thank you,” I said slowly. I was reminded of when Priest had first gotten into my car, of how I’d wanted to choose my words carefully. Even then, when I was terrified, I knew I hadn’t ever really worried that I would die. Now, though, with him, my fate was far from certain.
Though he’d complimented me, his appreciation, his approval, none of those ultimately mattered. I needed to tread carefully, stay smart, be smart, and get the fuck out of here as soon as I could. My mother had always told me that being polite never hurt anything. Of course, she probably hadn’t had this situation in mind when she’d dispensed that advice, but I’d use all the tools I had at my disposal.
“You’re welcome. But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” he said.
“What answers were you looking for?” I asked, searching for some clue as to what I could say that might have a chance of placating him.
He shrugged, looked at me again. “I was just hoping for some insight. I want to try to understand, and hope that you understand,” he said.
I shook my head, answered honestly. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Three days ago I was a catering waitress, planned on opening my own business one day. Now I’m handcuffed to a pipe,” I said, twisting my wrists so he could see them. “So no. I don’t understand.”
“So you’re just a victim in all this?”
“Yeah. If I hadn’t been there that day, none of this would’ve happened. I would have gone on with my life, been able to have my dreams, and know nothing about this awful world.”
He nodded, almost sympathetic, though I didn’t allow myself to buy into that. “I understand that well. Your life is going one way, and then boom”—he snapped his fingers—“it’s entirely different. Taken off course, radically altered and never to be the same again.”
“You’re scaring me,” I said.
“Why? Other than the necessary security, have I treated you poorly?”
I shook my head. “No. But this talk… ‘radically altered,’ ‘never again to be the same’? That’s not exactly comforting.”
His eyes brightened with understanding. “No. It’s not. But it’s honest. No matter what happens, your life will never be the same. Just like mine never will be, but we have something in common,” he said.
“What’s that?” I asked, not managing to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
“We both have the same person to blame,” he said.
“What?”
“Come in, Nikolai,” he said.
A second later Priest walked in. He looked like himself, but when I met his eyes, I saw an unfamiliar expression.
Only once had he ever given anything away, but now that he looked at me I could see something akin to worry in his expression.
That did not bode well.
“That’s right, Milan. My life, yours, countless others, all wasted because of him.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked.
My stomach dropped as I contemplated his answer, but the question could not have been left unsaid. I hadn’t gone through all this for nothing. I wouldn’t lose him.
“Not make it right,” the man said. “I can’t make it right, but I’m going to balance the scales. More precisely, I’m going to give him a chance to balance the scales.”
He turned then, looked Priest up and down. “Nikolai, I asked you a question. What’s your answer?”
Priest
The moment was thick, intense with tension, and I waited, the man watching me, Milan watching me.
His expression was amused, and I got the sense that he hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time.
Milan’s, however, was not.
She was stoic, not breaking down, not freaking out, as strong as she had been three days ago when I had found myself in her car. The difference being that back then she had been an inconvenience, an unknown.