The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,88
He’s busy. Him and Vasily, they are super busy. Plotting, planning, getting everything ready for their next move. It scares me, the idea of them getting embroiled in some gangster war.
I think they’re looking for Denis, but can’t find him. The man is dense, and I don’t think for one moment he’s the brains behind them disappearing. No, that’s all down to Liza.
My stomach rumbles. Wow, I’m hungry, and I have to say the housekeeper Konstantin hired is a dab hand at cooking. I’ve not wanted to eat much in recent days, but I listen to my body now, and she seems to want sustenance. I head down to the kitchen to find the housekeeper, and see if she can rustle me something up. I’d make it myself, but that seems to offend her.
I miss home, and simple things like cheese and onion sandwiches with pickles. I’ve spoken to my grandparents both, and it was so good to hear Grandpa’s voice. He says the doctors are hopeful that with the treatment he can have a few good years before things get worse. That’s amazing. More than I could have hoped for, and Konstantin did that for me. He did it despite me lying to him, causing him trouble, and putting him in danger.
The man has a heart, I know he does, but it’s buried under layers of hardness and a cold protective shell he’s spent years building up.
When I hit the kitchen, I stop, and an unfamiliar voice reaches me from the open study. I’ve pretty much come to recognize all the voices in this house. Konstantin’s rough, raw tones. Vasily, with his harder accent and sparse conversation. Denis had a deep, deep voice, but now he’s gone. Derek is cultured, English, and sounds upper class. Michael still has that tint of youth to his voice. This one? It’s new.
The voice has an accent. Russian, I think, but slightly different to Konstantin and Vasily. Maybe not Russian, the more I listen, the more I recognize variations in the vowel sounds.
His voice is harsh, more guttural. I wonder who this new voice belongs to.
I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
I head into the kitchen and don’t see Mrs. Dannivon around, so I decide to make myself something to eat for once. I like being able to do the odd, normal thing like this. It makes me feel human again … sane. Simply sitting around doing nothing is hell for my mental health. Opening the fridge, I peer in and see all the things I need to make a tasty sandwich. I get them out and set to making a ham sandwich. I take beetroot out of the fridge, already cooked, and slice it, ready to go with the ham. Then I grab the mayo, some pickles, and a tomato.
Once I’ve got everything sliced, I grab two big chunks of bread, and start to slather them in butter.
“Who puts beetroot in a sandwich with ham?”
I jump and turn to see the owner of the new voice. Oh, wow, he’s … his eyes!
It’s like being looked at by a wolf.
Konstantin comes into the room and reaches by me to grab three beers.
“Andrius, meet Cassie. Cassie, Andrius.”
“Cassie,” Andrius says. Then he turns to Konstantin. “I like her, K. She puts beetroot in her sandwiches. I think she must have Ukrainian in her soul.”
They both start laughing.
It feels as if they’re laughing at me, not with me.
“She’s caused me a lot of trouble,” Konstantin says. “I’m not sure what we’ll do with her, but she’s set in motion a lot of the events you’re here about.”
“She’s the one who hacked Popov? Badly?”
“Yep,” Konstantin says.
“Fuck, I’d have been tempted to break my rule if she’d done that to me.” Andrius shakes his head.
“What rule?” I ask.
“No women or children,” he says.
“What?”
Andrius puts his face close to mine and slowly says. “I don’t hurt women or children, but in your case, if you’d done to me what you did to Konstantin, I might have made an exception.”
“Back off, Andrius,” Konstantin snaps.
“That motherfucker put a bullet in me. Me.” He hits his chest. “No one does shit like that to me. I put the fear of God into the devil himself, and yet Popov, he saw fit to kneecap me. He’s fucking unhinged, he’s not scared of anyone, and sooner or later, he’s going to find out she’s been digging into his business, and he’s going to trace that right back to you.”
“Popov shot you?” I ask Andrius.