The Devil You Know

Rich debated with himself. He felt vulnerable and exposed, but he didn’t want to go back empty-handed—Damjohn didn’t like paying for trips that brought him no tangible returns. In the end, Rich took a bus ride into the much smaller town of Oktyabrskiy, and that was a different animal altogether. Here was the Siberia he’d been expecting—the shops all boarded up, the damp misery of the people who hadn’t been able to buy or fight or work their way out. True, a tourist blended in here about as well as a candy-striped hippopotamus, but most of the people he was looking at now were whipped dogs rather than sharks. This was a place where he felt it was safe for him to operate.

Oktyabrskiy was where he’d met Snezhna—not in a club or a bar but behind the counter in an all-night grocery shop. She was very pretty and had a sort of naive grace to her. Definitely the sort of girl who’d bring in the passing trade in one of Damjohn’s flats.

But at the same time, Rich had an uneasy suspicion that she wasn’t the sort of woman who was likely to fall for his usual spiel. She answered his casual questions with deadpan solemnity, failed to laugh at a single one of his little jokes, and wrapped parcels of groceries with a stolid precision that suggested she wasn’t in the habit of fantasizing about the possibility of doing anything else. Rich started in on the hard sell anyway, because another lesson he’d learned by this time was that you take your opportunities where you find them. Someone like Snezhna was wasted in Siberia, he told her. In the West, she could live a life of luxury, have anything she wanted, never have to worry about money again.

Surprisingly, she fell for it so enthusiastically that he didn’t even have to try all that hard. She asked him all kinds of questions about the work, the place, the logistics of getting there. She didn’t have a passport, but if she could get one for herself, would Rich be able to give her any advice on the best way to travel to England? She’d perhaps come out just to see, at first, and then make her mind up once she was there.

Instead of having to hook Snezhna and play her, Rich found himself swept along by her momentum and having to slow her down. He couldn’t ship her out to Stockholm until he’d e-mailed Dieter to tell him she was coming, and sorting out the passport would take a few days at least, even working through channels already lubricated by regular bribes. First things first—he told her to come to the passport office the next morning to get things moving. Then she’d have all the time in the world to wrap up her affairs while the bureaucrats did their stately waltz.

And then Snezhna had turned up at the passport office with Rosa in tow. Seeing the two of them together—seeing how Snezhna’s arm had stayed protectively around her younger sister’s shoulders the whole time, and how she’d glared at any man who even cast a glance in Rosa’s direction—Rich had understood. Snezhna might lack ambition and imagination on her own behalf, but for Rosa, she wanted the world.

And he could understand the protectiveness, too. Where Snezhna was fetching, Rosa was beautiful—or at least, she pushed all of Rich’s buttons. He got briefly lyrical as he described her, not knowing that I’d already met her at the strip club. Rosa was gorgeous, he said: improbably huge brown eyes, chestnut hair falling halfway down her back, and understated curves that seemed to have a kind of Platonic perfection about them. As Rich put it, she was the kind of girl who’d still look like a virgin even while you were screwing her—an absolute must-have, in every sleazy double sense.

So he carried on promising Snezhna the moon on a silver platter as he booked tickets to Stockholm for the pair of them and dropped Dieter a line with the terse message that this was a two-for-one deal. He saw Snezhna three more times, with no greater intimacy passing between them than a kiss on the cheek. The girl genuinely thought that everything Rich had done was out of disinterested friendship. She wasn’t even cynical enough to conclude that he was trying to buy his way into her pants, let alone to guess at the truth.

So Rich went back to London feeling slightly frustrated and horny but with the satisfaction of a job well done—and with the happy prospect of having a little more spending money than usual that month. He went back to work in good spirits.

They evaporated a little a week later, when Damjohn told him in passing that there was a new girl coming to stay in the secret rooms. A new girl? Rich asked, getting interested. Maybe he could work off some of the sexual tension he’d been feeling ever since he met Rosa.

But the girl now locked in the basement under the Bonnington’s strong rooms was Snezhna.