Isobel replied with a cool; “Yes.”
“I see, and what about you?” Dunyasha’s abrupt manner and level gaze turned on Terrington.
Taken by surprise, he spluttered into his tea. Isobel guessed he hadn’t heard anything he didn’t know already, and she released her pent up anxiety in a furious shout. “Don’t believe anything he says. He’s a murderer.”
Dunyasha jumped at Isobel’s outburst. “I do not know about murderer, but an accomplice to murder certainly, and a friend of The Brotherhood. Am I right?”
Terrington stared into his tea.
Isobel snorted. “He won’t answer. He only speaks when William tells him to.”
“An accomplice to murder is a punishable crime in Russia,” Dunyasha continued. “In earlier times you would be dead already, and not sitting at my table and drinking my tea.”
Terrington slouched, impassive and still, sullen resignation his only visible emotion.
“You would kill to get hold of the diamond wouldn’t you?” Dunyasha’s brusque manner slid to one of tender concern, and the suddenness of her compassion surprised Terrington, so that he looked at her for the first time.
“You would do anything for your Master,” Dunyasha cooed. “He must trust you very much.” Like a mother, coaxing a shy boy, wary of frightening him into silence, yet determined to get at the truth. And it worked, because Terrington answered.
“I serve my Master.”
“You are a loyal servant,” Dunyasha agreed. “In Russia, such loyalty is honoured.”
“You honour murderers?” Isobel scoffed.
“Of course not,” Dunyasha replied. “Though loyalty of a servant to their Master builds a foundation of trust that is much admired in Russian society. He would be held in high regard.”
Did she really believe that? Servants worked for you; most of the time you didn’t even notice them, and you certainly never talked about them, except to point out how difficult it was to find good ones. Terrington didn’t have an original thought in his head, unless her brother put it there. “He’s violent,” she retorted. “And he’s not afraid to kill.”
“I agree,” Dunyasha’s voice hardened. “He should hang. His actions are loyal but misguided.”
“But,” Konstantin interjected. “Worthy of consideration.”
“We shall see.” Dunyasha drummed her fingers on the table. “I look at him and see the coiled stealth of the snake. He moves alone. He will do what he thinks is best. It may be wrong to take him.”
“Try him,” suggested Konstantin.
“I do not trust him.”
Terrington slouched so low in his chair that his head was almost out of sight. Isobel fantasised about where they might take him. Far, far away, she hoped, where she would never see him again.
Dunyasha traced her finger along the cracks in the table, and appeared deep in thought. Then, a decision reached, she pushed her chair back, stood and stretched. With her arms extended, she twisted her body until her spine cracked, and then she relaxed her shoulders to relieve tension.
“It is my great pleasure to inform you, Isobel Hunt, and you Mister Terrington,” her clear words, brittle and hard, sounded rehearsed; “That you will accompany the Russian White on its journey back to Russia. This is an honour and a duty that you will be grateful to undertake. I am very happy that this should happen.”
Isobel let go of her tankard, and tea slopped over the table. Dunyasha ignored the steady splash of dripping liquid.
“You have honoured our nation by your selfless devotion to finding the diamond.” Her eyes focused on some middle distance, as if reciting remembered text that she had learnt, or been taught. “And the Russian people thank you for this service. It is possible that the Tsar himself,” she made the sign of the cross, and so did Konstantin. “Will grant you one of our country’s most esteemed honours. His delight at its return will show the ignorant nations of Europe the sincerity of his will to rebuild the Orthodox faith in the Holy Lands. This will now be possible with the return of the Russian White. It is one of the founding stones of our Motherland, given by the Fathers of the Holy Lands at the very birth of our nation, and with it we will restore the Orthodox faith to a realm that is now little better than a heathen wasteland. Our Tsar will lead those people back to the light. His will is to lead a crusade, a glorious Holy crusade.” She sat down, her cheekbones flushed, and Konstantin reached across and squeezed her hand.
Fear smothered Isobel’s attempts at rational thought. Terrington stared past her, and frowned. Had she heard right? She coughed and her voice trembled. “But I don’t want to go to Russia.”
Dunyasha’s fixed smile returned. “I understand how you feel. But I regret that you have no choice in the matter.”
Isobel retorted; “You can’t just take me.”
“We can.” The smile set, like ice. “You know the diamond is returning to Russia. We cannot leave you in England with this knowledge. The Russian White must always remain a secret.”
“So—what?” she swallowed. “You’re frightened I’ll tell someone? I helped you look for it. I was helping the Russians, remember?”
“But now that it is found, all traces of its whereabouts must be eliminated. And that includes anybody who has helped us in our search. You cannot be expected to remain silent for the rest of your life. It will always be there, in your head, and the desire to share what you know will grow and wane throughout the years. When it is strong, you will feel the need to speak, and if your self-control is weak, your words will betray us, and the deaths of many men and women who have given their lives searching for it. This is a risk that we cannot take.”
Panic pumped through her body. Instinct told her to run. The door to the alley was locked. Escape through the other door, up the stairs and out of a window? Might that be possible? Terrington’s knuckles turned white as he squeezed his tankard. Think of something, keep them talking. “You can’t make me a prisoner,” she shouted. “It’s against the law.”
“No laws apply when it comes to the diamond,” Dunyasha replied, curt and cruel in her dismissal of such a suggestion.
“You will not be a prisoner.” Konstantin stretched out his hand, but Isobel sat back, out of reach.
“In Russia you will be free. There is nothing you will not have. I give you my promise.” He rose, and ambled towards the door at the back of the shop. Had he guessed her plan? “You will be happy, an honoured guest.”
“That is true.” Dunyasha picked up her cloth bag. “And him we also take.” She flicked a finger at Terrington. “Though my heart is unsure.”
“It is a simple choice Madam,” Konstantin replied. “Kill him or work him. In Russia at least, the people will decide his fate.”
“You are right,” Dunyasha’s smile widened. “So—you will come with us too.” She rose, and opened her arms in welcome. “Your journey will be comfortable.”
Isobel’s stomach knotted and her grip on the tankard tightened. She bunched her other hand into a fist. “But James doesn’t want to go to Russia. You said you’d get him out of Bedlam. I’m not going anywhere without him. And Peter’s there too, one of your agents. You can’t just leave him behind to rot in that terrible place.”
“I did not promise you anything,” Dunyasha replied. “James’s fate is unimportant to me. I use his name to make you talk. The Brotherhood will keep him in Bedlam. They think he knows what has happened to the diamond, and because they will never find out that it is no longer on English soil, he will die there. He may already be dead. Like Peter.”