The Enemy

CHAPTER 49

Izolda Kasakov awoke from a nightmare with her heart thumping and her throat dry. She reached across to the other side of the bed to touch her husband and feel the safety of his presence, but instead found only empty bedclothes. She switched on a lamp and squinted against the light. She put her wrist to her forehead. It was damp with sweat.

‘Vladimir?’

There was no response, no sound from the adjoining bathroom. She checked the time. They had gone to bed two hours before and she had been asleep soon after. The cool pillow next to hers told her Vladimir had been gone for a while. It wasn’t like her husband to have trouble sleeping. He was a big bear of a man who slept easily and noisily. For the first few years of their marriage Izolda had used earplugs to block out his snoring. Now, she was so used to the loud, rhythmic sound that she sometimes couldn’t sleep without him next to her.

Given his recent behaviour, Izolda wasn’t wholly surprised he was having trouble sleeping. Something was going on. Something he wasn’t telling her about. He had not been his usual jovial self for several weeks now, and seemed always moody, self-absorbed and quick to anger. She had asked what was wrong but he kept assuring her it was nothing. She guessed it was about work, but didn’t pry further, just as Vladimir kept his distance from Izolda’s private life. They both had dark secrets the other didn’t want to hear.

Her pulse finally slowed down to a normal beat. She couldn’t remember the nightmare, only the fear it had evoked. Maybe the stress between her and Vladimir was doing more damage than she thought. Or perhaps it was the new guilt she carried. Either way she was unlikely to get back to sleep just yet.

Izolda slipped on her dressing gown and ventured out on to the landing. She loved Sochi, which was fortunate as it was one of the few vacation destinations that Vladimir was able to travel to without risk. The mansion was a large, lavish building, but nothing compared to the home she shared with Vladimir outside of Moscow. That house was huge beyond need or luxury. They had an entire wing that housed the full-time maid, chef, butler, driver, groundskeeper and bodyguards. The rest of the Moscow dacha was shared by just herself and Vladimir. She didn’t know how many rooms there were and sometimes weeks could go by without her using some of them. Those bedrooms she and Vladimir had once designated as nurseries, she hadn’t ventured into for years.

Izolda switched on lights as she went. She may have been a grown woman but she was on edge from the nightmare and being in an isolated dacha didn’t help keep her imagination in check. Her slippers muffled her footsteps on the red oak flooring.

Faint light emanating from the study told her where she would find Vladimir. He looked up when she entered. He was sitting behind his desk, dressed in silk pyjamas, and facing the open door. Some men looked better as they aged; though Vladimir was perhaps not one of them, the grey in his hair did lend him a certain dignified presence, and the lines in his face added character to his somewhat blunt features. But he was still as strong and powerful as he had ever been.

It was the computer monitor that provided the light. Vladimir clicked the mouse and removed his earbuds.

‘Izzy,’ he said. ‘I thought you were fast asleep.’

She leaned against the doorframe. ‘I had a nightmare.’

‘My poor baby.’ He looked so concerned. ‘What was it about?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Isn’t that the best way?’

She shrugged. ‘What are you doing up at this time of night?’

An expression passed over Vladimir’s face that was both happy and sad at the same time. ‘Just work, my love. Just work.’

‘Can’t that wait until morning? We’re on vacation, aren’t we?’

‘It’s not urgent,’ he said. ‘But I couldn’t get to sleep and thought I might as well make use of my insomnia. I hope I didn’t wake you when I got out of bed.’

Izolda shook her head. ‘No, no. I didn’t realise you weren’t there until the nightmare woke me. How long have you been up?’

‘Not long.’

‘Oh, I thought-’

Vladimir smiled and said, ‘You looked so cute when I left. You were snoring.’

‘ I was not.’

‘You were.’

‘I don’t snore.’ She smiled, shyly. ‘I’m a lady.’

‘A very beautiful lady.’

She couldn’t help but smile wider. ‘I can’t sleep if you’re not there. Come back to bed, please.’

‘Give me five minutes to finish up and I’ll be in. How does that sound, my love?’

Kasakov watched Izolda turn and leave. He didn’t like lying to his wife, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He was not working. Burliuk and Eltsina were running the business in his absence and he’d left instructions he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Burliuk had been opposed to Kasakov taking a vacation when they were in the middle of trying to repair the damage done by the many attacks the network had suffered in the past few weeks, but Kasakov had gone regardless. He didn’t have the patience to deal with scared employees and North Koreans who were furious their order had been delayed, and even angrier to learn they would only receive eighteen fighter jets instead of the promised twenty. That mark to Kasakov’s reputation would take a lot of work to repair.

He hadn’t lied about his inability to sleep. However, it wasn’t his business that kept him awake, nor was it his nephew’s death; with Illarion avenged, he was finally at peace on that score. No, it was his wife who occupied Kasakov’s thoughts. Her reluctance to concede to his advances had not gone unnoticed, nor had the increased frequency of shopping trips and salon visits and lunches with friends.

Her footsteps were too quiet for Kasakov to hear, so he waited a couple of minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to suddenly reappear before reinserting his earbuds. He settled into his chair and clicked the mouse to continue the video. The recording had been made using a sophisticated camera, as Kasakov had requested, and both the picture quality and sound were excellent, even if the camerawork could have been better. Had it occurred to him beforehand he would have hired a professional cinematographer to handle the shoot. However, given the video’s content, such an individual would probably have been impossible to find.

Kasakov had watched an hour of footage already and there was another two hours to go. He would check on Izolda shortly to make sure she was asleep. If she wasn’t, he would climb into bed with her and wait until she was snoring again before returning to the video. This was the second time Kasakov had viewed it, and like any good movie he was able to appreciate it even more on a repeat viewing.

He blinked away tears and closed his eyes to picture Illarion’s face while through the earbuds flowed the exquisite screams of Ariff and his family.