Night and Day

by Iris Johansen

  “She’ll get used to it later.” Kaskov came forward, and his brows rose as his eyes traveled over Cara’s black ballet slippers, simple navy blue skirt, and white-silk blouse. “Not what I would have thought you’d have chosen for her, Natalie. Your taste runs more to designer lace and satin.”

  “It’s what she wanted. She said that she doesn’t like to draw attention to herself. And she’s a trifle gangly, so anything fancier would have been wasted on her.”

  Lie on top of lie. Cara was becoming accustomed to it now.

  “She’s not gangly.” Kaskov tilted his head. “But that outfit will be fine. There’s a certain elegance to it. Why don’t you like to draw attention to yourself, Cara?”

  “Clothes don’t matter. Sometimes they just get in the way.”

  Kaskov laughed. “Do you hear that, Natalie? Are you sure that she’s your daughter?”

  “Poor child. She’s probably never had anything nice. No wonder she feels out of place.”

  “Well, I have something that she might consider ‘nice.’” He took Cara’s hand and drew her through the foyer to the living room. “It’s there on the couch. I bought it this afternoon.”

  He’d already taken the violin out of the case and set it upright against the silk cushions of the couch, framing it. “What do you think of it?”

  She went slowly across the room, her gaze on the violin.

  The wood had a deep, burnished luster that seemed to glow under the lights …

  “It’s … wonderful.” She reached out and touched it. “Italian? How old is it?”

  “How old do you think it is?”

  “I saw one that looked like this in a book Elena gave me.”

  “How old, Cara?”

  She moistened her lips. “Over two hundred years?”

  “And who made it?”

  She was afraid to say it. “Amati?”

  He chuckled. “Very good.”

  She touched the violin again. “And you want me to play it?”

  “I demand that you play it. I didn’t go to all this trouble to have you sit and look at it.”

  “What’s all this about, Daddy?” Natalie asked. “You gave her a two-hundred-year-old violin? Aren’t they worth a lot of money?”

  “Only the exceptional ones.”

  “Is this exceptional?”

  “Is it exceptional, Cara?”

  “Oh, yes.” She could hardly get out the words. “I heard a concert on PBS, and the sound … I’d have to play it, but I…” She looked at him. “And I don’t think you’d buy it if it wasn’t as good as the one I heard.”

  “I’ve never heard of that violin,” Natalie said. “It’s not like it’s a Stradivarius, is it?”

  “No, I might save that for later.”

  “Daddy, how much is it worth?” she asked impatiently.

  “It was a bargain. One point four million.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “For an instrument for a child? It’s ridiculous.”

  “It might be, but I didn’t want to waste my time listening to her playing an inferior instrument.” He looked at Cara. “But she’s right, if you only deserve an inferior instrument, that’s what I’ll give you. If you show me you come close to deserving this one, then I’ll allow you to keep it.”

  “Ridiculous,” Natalie said through her teeth.

  “Are you feeling the pressure?” Kaskov asked Cara. “Sweaty palms?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care if you take it away if I can play it just once. I never thought I’d ever be able to do that.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Interesting. Then why don’t you sit down and play it?”

  “Daddy.”

  He didn’t look at her. “And you sit down, too, Natalie. I’m looking forward to this.”

  Cara was no longer listening to Natalie. She was only conscious of the violin and the music she knew was there waiting for her.

  She slowly picked up the violin and tucked it beneath her chin.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Kaskov asked.

  “You’re Russian. You’ll want the Tchaikovsky.”

  She began to play.

  The sound …

  The feel of the strings …

  The release, the wildness, the beauty.

  The music.

  * * *

  She didn’t know how long she played. It was pure joy that she didn’t want to let go.

  She went from Tchaikovsky to Vivaldi to Mendelssohn in a fever to keep the music whirling, touching, surrounding.

  “Enough, Cara.” She was suddenly aware of Natalie’s hand on her shoulder. “You must be exhausted. I need to take you back to the gatehouse and see that you get to bed.” Her voice was gentle, but the fingers digging into Cara’s shoulder were not. “And you’ve taken enough of your grandfather’s time for one evening. Give him back the violin.”

  Cara shook her head to clear it. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. “I’m not tired.” She could still feel the music singing in her veins. She crossed the room to Kaskov’s chair. “Thank you, sir.” She held out the violin. “It was wonderful.”

  “Yes, it was,” he said softly. He made no motion to take the instrument. “But there’s always room for improvement. Though at the moment I can’t see how. I believe you’d better keep that violin and see if you can surprise me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I can keep it?” Her hand tightened on the violin. “You’re not joking?”

  “I’m not known for my humor. And I never joke about money or music.”

  “It’s too much, Daddy,” Natalie said. “I didn’t bring her here for you to spoil her.”

  “I disagree. It may not be enough.” He was gazing at Cara. “And I’m not going to spoil her. I’ll make her work for it. Every time I send for her, I’ll expect her to come running with that violin and play for me. Is that a deal, Cara?”

  “Yes, sir.” She was looking down at the violin in disbelief. “Is it really mine?”

  “I think it has to be.” He turned to Natalie. “You never disappoint me. I thought her sister, Jenny, was remarkable, but you’ve brought me another extraordinary gift.” He kissed her cheek. “Now take her back to the gatehouse and tuck her in.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She turned to Cara. “Pack up that violin, and let’s get out of here.”

  “Right away.” There was something in Natalie’s tone that made Cara hurry to the couch and place the violin quickly in its case. It was clear that Natalie was annoyed, and it would be hard to ignore it now that Cara was no longer involved in the music. All she wanted to do was to get back to the gatehouse with this incredible gift and be alone so that she could play it again. “Thank you. Good night, sir.”

  “I’ve just given you a present that you appear to be very pleased with and yet you can’t seem to remember to call me grandfather.”

  She smiled tentatively. “It just seems … disrespectful. You don’t really know me. And I’m not sure you would want to if it wasn’t for the music.”

  “Very perceptive.” He smiled crookedly. “And I don’t know either. We’ll have to test it and see what comes of it. Until then, you may call me sir.”

  She nodded and hurried toward the door.

  She was only a few yards down the driveway when Natalie caught up with her. “That was quite an exhibition,” she said tightly. “I might as well not have been in the room.”

  “I didn’t ask to play for him.”

  “No, you didn’t. And you didn’t ask him to give you that ridiculously expensive violin, but somehow you got him to do it.”

  “I had no idea he’d give me an Amati. It took my breath away.”

  “My father never stints himself when music is involved. I should have remembered and tried to circumvent it.”

  “I could give it back.”

  “No, you can’t. He’d blame me. We had a few other battles over his gifts to my brother, and it would make him remember them. He mustn’t do that.
”

  “Then I can keep the violin?”

  “I have no choice. But don’t think you’ve won.” Her eyes were straight ahead, and her tone was ice-cold. “You’ll learn that in the final battle, I always win.”

  “I didn’t try to win anything.” She was suddenly afraid. She had been attempting to pacify Natalie since she had arrived here, but everything kept going wrong.

  It mustn’t go wrong. She didn’t know what plans Natalie had for Eve, but she was afraid for her. And the more she thought about those scraps of conversation that she remembered, she knew that somehow she was involved.

  She had to get away from here.

  She couldn’t let Natalie use her to hurt Eve.

  “Maybe you could tell your father I’m homesick, and you want to take me back to the U.S. Then he wouldn’t—”

  “Shut up!” Natalie suddenly exploded. “It’s all your fault. That damn music. Who cares anything about it? Did you hear him thank me for providing him with you because he’d found a new pet to amuse him? It’s all he cares about. Your sister, Jenny, and now you. And he doted on my brother Alex. I’d do everything I could, but I still couldn’t come out on top. I was only important if he wasn’t around.” She added harshly, “So I had to make sure he wasn’t around.”

  Cara didn’t want to hear this. They were close to the gatehouse and she instinctively started to hurry. Don’t listen. Get away from her. Because she had a terrible idea that she knew how Natalie had solved her problem with her brother. “Your father seems to love you. I’m sure he loved you more than your brother.”

  “You don’t know anything. That stupid music. Even after Alex was dead, my father wouldn’t give up on it.”

  “Jenny?” Cara whispered.

  “And now you.” Her voice was shaking with rage. “Does he think I’m some kind of broodmare to spit out children to give him some kind of twisted satisfaction because of that prick who messed up his hands? In a way, he was like my husband, who was trying to make me give him a son. I am not a broodmare. Why couldn’t they see that I was the important one?”

  They were only a few feet from the gatehouse. Don’t let Natalie say too much. She might already have said more than was safe for Cara.

  “He’ll probably get bored with hearing me play.” She opened the door. “He might make me give the violin back in a day or two.”

  “I doubt it,” she said curtly. “But I may have to cut this visit short. I wanted to make sure he was going to be in my corner, but you’re spoiling everything.” She followed her into the gatehouse. “But you will do everything I say, and you will not cause me any more trouble.”

  “Just tell me what to do,” Cara said quietly.

  “Oh, I will. First, I want you to meet someone.” She went to the French doors leading to the small garden. “Ivan!”

  “Yes.” A tall, muscular, dark-haired man was at the door within seconds. “You need me?”

  Dead eyes, Cara thought. He had a broad Slavic face but his dark eyes were totally without expression.

  “This is Ivan Sabak, Cara,” Natalie said. “He’s your personal bodyguard while you’re here. I’m sure that you’ve seen more of my father’s men moving around the estate, but Ivan is special. He knows my father will be very upset if you take it into your head to leave here. There is nothing he will not do to prevent it. Even if he’s forced to hurt you, though I’m sure that you wouldn’t make him do that.” She smiled at Ivan. “Isn’t that right, Ivan?”

  “If that’s what you want,” Ivan said. “I have no instructions from your father.”

  “Now you do. He wants you to take your orders from me.” Natalie turned to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cara. Take care of that violin.” She opened the door. “I’m considering it a loan.”

  The door closed behind her.

  Cara glanced at Ivan, but he’d disappeared back into the garden.

  She was alone. Relief was surging through her. No Natalie. No Kaskov. No Ivan with his dead eyes. She shot the bolt on the door.

  What was she doing? She was bolting herself into this gatehouse with Ivan, who was probably a more immediate danger than Natalie or her father. It didn’t matter. That bolt was more symbolic than practical. She wanted to close out all the pressures, confusion, and threats, subtle and otherwise. She turned and flew up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor. It was a nice enough room, with carved cherry furniture and its own bath and balcony.

  And she could lock that door, too.

  She leaned back against the door, her pulse pounding, breathing hard. She didn’t feel much safer. She went out on the balcony and looked down at the small rose garden below. Was Ivan down there somewhere? No, he’d come in from the back garden. But there was still no way she could climb down and escape. She could see three men in jeans and casual jackets within a few yards of the garden.

  And what could she do if she did get away from the estate? No money. No plans.

  Then she would work on getting both. But it wouldn’t be tonight. She’d go to bed and try to sleep.

  But she wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. She was too on edge from that last conversation with Natalie. She was learning more about her all the time and every word revealed—

  She wouldn’t think about Natalie. She turned and put her case on the bed and took out her violin.

  Her violin. It was hers for the time being. Natalie and Kaskov couldn’t take it away from her. She had made it hers when she was playing tonight. It was part of her, just as the music was part of her. She stroked the smooth rosewood. It felt warm to her, alive …

  No, only she could bring it to life.

  And she would.

  She didn’t have to climb down that balcony to escape. She could rid herself of Natalie and Ivan and Kaskov and the threats and terrible revelations that were all around her.

  She only had to release the magic …

  MOSCOW

  TWO DAYS LATER

  Jock looked down at the map on the table. “How many guards on the grounds, Palik?”

  “Seven. Sometimes eight if Kaskov has a special job. I’ve heard stories that it was an armed camp when he was negotiating with the Chinese over drug distribution. But usually he—” He stopped as he saw Jock’s expression. “But you’re not interested in the Chinese. Sorry. You can count on eight. I don’t believe he’ll think it necessary to bring in extra firepower. But he did assign Ivan Sabak to her.”

  “And who is he?”

  “Kaskov’s principal enforcer.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Knives. Hands. Doesn’t care much for guns.”

  Neither did Jock. “Why did he put her in the gatehouse?”

  Palik shrugged. “It’s easy to guard. Hard to extract anyone. Was he expecting someone to come and get her?”

  “Maybe not. But Natalie Castino would have known it was a possibility.”

  “And you’re the cavalry?”

  “You might say that.”

  “I just want you to know that if you expect me to join in any attack on Kaskov’s estate, you’re mistaken. I collect information and that’s all. I could put you in touch with a few good men, but it will cost you. No one wants to go up against Kaskov. They have a tendency to end up dead after being painfully dismembered.”

  “I’ll tell you if I need help. It’s not likely.” He was gazing down at the map, memorizing the layout of both the mansion and the gatehouse. “Which is her room?”

  Palik pointed to the third room on the second floor. “You’d have to go through Ivan to get to her.”

  That was the least of Jock’s concern. “Once I get her away from the estate, can you get me a plane and transport out of the country?”

  “Not out of Moscow. Once Kaskov lets his dogs out, there won’t be anyone who won’t be on the hunt for you. No one is going to rent you a plane or any other kind of wheels. They’d know they’d be dead within twenty-four hours.”

  “I see.” But he didn’t like it. If Kaskov had that
kind of power, then Eve was right. Unless he could figure a safe way to get Cara out of the country, then there was a real danger that she could be caught in a cross fire. He couldn’t risk it.

  “Maybe you could broker a deal?” Palik suggested.

  That’s what Natalie Castino was trying to do, and he might have to have Eve stall her until he could put together a plan.

  Another delay.

  He deliberately smothered the rage that was tearing through him. Now was the time for cool thinking and planning and gathering information that would make those plans work. He turned away from the table. “Take me to Kaskov’s estate. I want to see it.”

  “Don’t you want to take the map?”

  “No, I’ve got it.” He headed for the door. “I’ll remember.”

  “You will? I could—”

  “I just want to see the place. Take me there. After that, I’ll be on my own.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t say that I envy you. What are they paying you to do a job like this?”

  Cara sitting on the stone wall at Gaelkar playing her violin.

  Cara looking up at him with tears in her eyes and saying good-bye when Eve had told her she had to go on the run again.

  Cara running after him through the forest because she didn’t want him to face Salazar alone.

  “Enough.” He headed for the door. “They’re paying me more than enough.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  Jock lowered the infrared binoculars and settled himself more comfortably on the branch of the oak tree fifty yards outside the gates of Kaskov’s mansion. It was going to be a long night. Palik had done a good job. The buildings and layout of the estate were exactly as Palik had drawn them. It was Kaskov’s guards who might be the problem. You could never predict how they would react, when they would take breaks, if one was sharper or lazier than another. But you could make a good guess if you watched long enough.