The next day, Maria called me early.
“Today,” she said, “Vladimir will come.”
Her voice was businesslike, but I could feel the tension on the other end.
“Why me?” I asked.
“Because you are a witness,” Maria replied. “And because Vladimir is not used to people saying “no” to him. And you might end up being one of the few who will laugh.”
I dressed like I was going to an interview. Funny, right? A man getting ready to meet a businessman while the bank’s voice is playing in his head.
When I got to the building, there was a car in front of the entrance, shiny and dark. Two men with expressionless faces stood next to it.
Maria was waiting for me.
“Calm down,” he whispered. “Don’t show fear. He’s feeding on it.”
We entered.
The door to the room was open. Inside, by the window, stood Vladimir.
He was tall, well-dressed, with arms that looked like those of a man who didn’t carry boxes. But his gaze was sharper than a knife. His eyes scanned the room, the people, the air.
When he saw me, he turned completely around.
“You,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It was a conclusion.
He didn’t extend his hand for a handshake. He didn’t say “nice to meet you.” Vladimir didn’t do things that didn’t benefit him.
Raya lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, as if trying not to see his face. Mila stood beside her, her fingers pressed together.
Maria stood between us like a wall.
– Vladimir, this is Nikola. He…
“I know who it is,” Vladimir interrupted her. “He’s the man from the recording.”
He looked towards Heaven.
“And you,” he said quietly. “You haven’t changed.”
Raya closed her eyes.
“I have changed,” he whispered. “You just don’t see it.”
Vladimir smiled slightly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I came for one thing,” he said. “The girl.”
Mila stepped back as if he had reached out his hand.
“She is mine,” Vladimir continued.
Raya laughed. Dry, painful.
“Is she yours?” he repeated. “You forgot her before you saw her.”
Vladimir stepped forward.
“I want to take her,” he said. “Give her a life. An education. A home.”
Mila swallowed. The words “education” and “home” sounded like a fairy tale. But there was a fear in her eyes that money couldn’t buy.
“Dear,” Raya whispered. “Don’t listen…”
Vladimir turned sharply to me.
“What do you think?” he asked.
My heart skipped a beat. This was a trap. If I say one thing, I’ll betray the other.
“I…” I began.
Maria looked at me warningly.
Vladimir moved closer.
“You are poor,” he said. “I can see it. Your clothes, your hands, your look. Do you have a loan?”
I shuddered.
“I have,” I admitted.
“How much do you have left?” he asked, as if we were talking about a restaurant bill.
– This is not…
“Answer,” Vladimir insisted.
I looked at Maria. She nodded barely perceptibly: tell the truth.
“A lot,” I said. “And I don’t have a job right now.”
Vladimir smiled wider.
“Then you will understand,” he said, “that sometimes charity is a luxury. And I can afford it.”
Raya stood up with an effort.
“Mercy is not a luxury,” she whispered. “It is a choice. And you chose not to.”
Vladimir looked at her coldly.
– You chose to hide the child from me.
