The Lost Labyrinth

THIRTY-TWO
I

The air inside the atrium was thick with fumes, sharp enough to give Mikhail the first throb of a headache. But he didn't let it rush him. Stillness amid chaos was a virtue he admired.

'Come on, sir,' said Davit, offering him the box of long-reach barbecue matches. 'We need to get out of here.'

He looked up at Edouard's bloodied body, lying like some fallen hero atop the makeshift pyre of furniture and linen, then took the matchbox. Its side was warped and damp from having been left outside too long, making the matches difficult to strike, but finally one fizzled and caught. He nursed it into flame, crouched and touched it to the corner of a petrol-soaked sheet. The flame climbed and spread, already radiating intense heat. When it reached the pool of accelerants at its heart, it erupted in a balloon of searing flame, forcing the others back. He alone stayed where he was, gazing raptly up at it, its spreading canopy of black smoke.

He picked up the shotgun, considered it a moment. Too risky to take inside the airport with him, and if he had to ditch it anyway, best to destroy its evidentiary value. He tossed it into the flames, the remaining cartridges too. He picked up the steel briefcase with its millions of euros, then went into the kitchen for the sharpest and sturdiest carving knife he could find.

Outside, the Ferrari was glistening with fuel. Mikhail struck another match. He'd got the knack now. He threw it in and watched with satisfaction as the petrol flared and then the upholstery caught, choking black smoke pouring out and up into the sky. He enjoyed beautiful things, Mikhail; but he enjoyed destroying them too. Next he set the spare Mercedes blazing; there was less satisfaction in that. Shotgun cartridges began to detonate inside the house. Glass crashed and tinkled, the skylight sucked in by the vacuum. 'Boris,' he said, 'you and Davit take Knox to the airport in the van.'

'Yes, boss.'

'When you get there, call in. I'll be nearby with Zaal and Nadya. You don't need to know exactly where. Get Knox to retrieve the key, then collect the fleece from the locker. If everything goes smoothly, we'll meet up again at the private jet terminal.'

'And if it doesn't?'

'Then you take care of Knox. I'll take care of Nadya.' He turned to Knox, pressed the knife against his throat. 'Her blood will be on your hands. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' said Knox.

'Good,' said Mikhail. 'Then let's get out of here.'