see how it was. Your mother was a beautiful woman.
So lovely and delicate. Your father adored her. But when her parents were taken and then, well, put to death really, she was never the same. You sensed it, yes? A melancholy there? Even before your sister."
I said nothing, but I had indeed sensed it.
"I guess I wanted you to know how it was," he said. "For your mother. So maybe you'd understand more." "Sosh?" He waited. He still had not turned from the window. "Do you know where my mother is?" The big man didn't answer for a long time. "Sosh?" "I used to know," he said. "When she first ran away." I swallowed. "Where did she go?" "Natasha went home." "I don't understand." "She ran back to Russia." "Why?" "You can't blame her, Pavel." "I don't. I want to know why." "You can run away from your homelike they did. You try to change.
You hate your government but never your people. Your homeland is your homeland. Always."
He turned to me. Our eyes locked.
"And that's why she ran?"
He just stood there.
"That was her reasoning?" I said, almost shouting. I felt something in my blood tick. "Because her homeland was always her homeland?"
"You're not listening."
"No, Sosh, I'm listening. Your homeland is your homeland. That's a load of crap. How about your family is your family? How about your husband is your husband-or more to the point, how about your son is your son?"
He did not reply.
"What about us, Sosh? What about me and Dad?"
"I don't have an answer for you, Pavel."
"Do you know where she is now?"
"No."
"Is that the truth?"
It IS.
"But you could find her, couldn't you?"
He didn't nod but he didn't shake his head either.
"You have a child," Sosh said to me. "You have a good career."
"So?"
"So this is all so long ago. The past is for the dead, Pavel. You don't want to bring the dead back. You want to bury them and move on." "My mother isn't dead," I said. "Is she?" "I don't know." "So why are you talking about the dead? And Sosh? While we're talking about the dead, here's one more thing to chew over"-I couldn't stop myself, so I just said it-"I'm not even sure my sister is dead any more."
I expected to see shock on his face. I didn't. He barely seemed surprised.
"To you," he said.
"To me, what?"
"To you," he said, "they should both be dead."
Chapter 11
I shook off Uncle Sosh's words and headed back through the Lincoln Tunnel. I needed to focus on two things and two things only: Focus One, convict those two damned sons of bitches who had raped Chamique Johnson. And Focus Two, find out where the hell Gil Perez had been for the past twenty years.
I checked the address Detective York had given me for the witness/girlfriend. Raya Singh worked at an Indian restaurant called Curry Up and Wait. I hate pun titles. Or do I love them? Lets go with love.
I was on my way.
I still had the picture of my father in the front seat. I didn't much worry about those KGB allegations. I had almost expected it after my conversation with Sosh. But now I read the index card again:
THE FIRST SKELETON
The First. That again implied that more would be coming. Clearly Monsieur Jenrette, probably with financial help from Marantz, was sparing no expense. If they found out about those old accusations against my father more than twenty-five years old now they were clearly desperate and hungry.
What would they find?
I was not a bad guy. But I wasn't perfect either. No one was. They would find something. They would blow it out of proportion. It could seriously damage JaneCare, my reputation, my political ambition-but then again Chamique had skeletons too. I had convinced her to take them all out and show them to the world.
Could I ask less of myself?
When I arrived at the Indian restaurant, I threw the car into Park and turned off the ignition. I was not in my jurisdiction, but I didn't think that would matter much. I took a look out the car window, thought again about that skeleton and called Loren Muse. When she answered I identified myself and said, "I may have a small problem."
"What's that?" Muse asked.
"Jenrette's father is coming after me."
"How?"
"He's digging into my past."
"Will he find anything?"
"You dig into anybody's past," I said, "you find something."
"Not mine," she said.
"Really? How about those dead bodies in Reno?"
"Cleared of all charges."
"Great, terrific."
"I'm just playing with you, Cope.