Page 65 of Last Violent Call
“They are not around anymore, so I suppose that’s fair enough,” she said. “People say the Montagovs are all dead.”
Benedikt’s pulse was still racketing with alarm in his chest. He digested her words slowly.
“People say?” he repeated. “That seems like you don’t believe it.”
Either Yeva didn’t notice his panic or Benedikt was a better actor than he thought. She offered him his watch back, but seeing that his arms were occupied, she gestured that she could help him secure it onto his wrist. Benedikt angled his arm for her.
“Oh, I don’t know about the state of the family at large, of course,” Yeva said nonchalantly. She flipped the wristwatch around. “I have only met one of them, most certainly still alive. Maybe this watch belonged to him once. I wish him and his wife only the greatest happiness.”
The wristwatch clicked back into place. Yeva gave his arm a satisfied pat.
“Thank you.” Benedikt’s voice sounded bewildered to his own ears. Yeva seemed to make nothing of it and only smiled before proceeding wherever she had been going before.
As soon as she departed through the doors, Benedikt hurried back into his compartment, setting the two directories on the floor and entirely abandoning his intention of returning them to the dining carriage.
“What was that about?” Marshall asked. He was standing over his luggage case, hands on his hips while he eyed his progress. “I heard bits and pieces.”
“I just had the oddest encounter with Yeva Mikhailovna,” Benedikt answered. “I… think she was trying to say she’s met Roma before.”
Marshall looked up with a frown. “In Shanghai?”
Benedikt didn’t think so. Not if she had mentioned hiswife, because Roma hadn’t married his mortal enemy from the rival gang until the night before they faked their own deaths.
“You know,” Marshall went on when Benedikt stayed silent, his attention drifting back to his packing, “you and Yeva kind of look alike in certain lights.”
Maybe it was the blond hair creating that effect. Benedikt was still hovering at the compartment entrance, thinking hard. When a full minute passed, Marshall glanced over again, shaking his luggage case around to make more room.
“Ben,” he prompted. “You are worrying me a little.”
“Isn’t it a little strange,” Benedikt mused, finally articulating his thoughts, “that Yeva wears aYon her necklace when there is no presence of that letter in the Russian spelling?”
Marshall looked confused. “I’m confused,” he stated.
“Yeva,” Benedikt said out loud, still mostly talking to himself. “Spelled ?-?-?. Mr. Portsmith said she doesn’t speak English, so what are thechances that she would represent her name that way?”
“I feel like you’re getting to something, Ben. Should I keep making insubstantial remarks until you reach the grand conclusion? That usually works. Maybe she is trying to learn English. Maybe she speaks French instead. Maybe her husband gifted it to her. Maybe—”
“Oh myGod.”
Marshall startled at Benedikt’s sudden exclamation. He startled even further when Benedikt rushed toward him and grabbed his shoulders. “Oh my God, Mars, I know what this is. Come with me. Quickly.”
Benedikt scrambled through their messy surroundings to find the passenger list, scribbled to near incoherence with their notes. He identified the compartment number he needed, then practically dragged Marshall out, skidding into their carriage’s passageway and into the next one over.
“This way, this way.”
Benedikt found the compartment. There was humming from inside, stopping only when he knocked quickly, his hands practically shaking as his knuckles came down.
Marshall was right. He and Yeva did look a bit alike.
We met this girl who resembled Alisa to an eerie degree.Roma’s voice echoed over from a few months ago, the phone signal staticky.I figure it was the universe telling me I needed to help her.
“Your name isn’t Yeva Mikhailovna,” Benedikt said when she opened her door. “It’s Mila Yu.”
12
Irkutsk’s station was fast approaching. The train was about to stop.
“Lev!” Marshall called, spotting the boy as he dragged his bags into the entryway of his compartment, setting them there on the chance they needed to make a rapid exit. “Lev, where is your uncle?”
