Page 103 of Savage Justice
“You’ve met my associates already,” he states. “This is my wife, Cristina Savage.”
“Ah, yes. Formerly Cristina Bival,” he murmurs in his perfect but accented English. “We have met before, some years ago, when we were both children. It was in Leningrad, I believe. I am delighted to renew our acquaintance.”
She smiles regally, like the Mafia queen she is. “Such a small world, Mr Kaminski.”
“Quite.” He fastens his moss-green gaze on me. “I don’t believe we’ve met…?”
“I’m Molly,” I blurt.
“Ah, yes. Molly.” He leaves it at that. He knows exactly who I am.
“So, Mr Kaminski…?” Ethan is clearly keen to crack on.
“Kristian, please.”
“Kristian. What brings you to the UK?”
“Business.”
“I gather you’ve remained in this country since our last… encounter.”
“That’s correct.”
“It can’t be because you like the climate.”
He smiles. “Have you visited Poland recently?”
Ethan returns his smile but without the merest hint of warmth. “Quite. So, you requested this meeting?”
Kaminski gets straight to the point. “I did. I owe you an apology.”
Ethan’s eyebrows lift. “Please elaborate, Kristian.”
“My brother-in-law has caused you some… inconvenience. I am sorry for the trouble.”
Ethan makes no pretence at not understanding. “As you should be. You gave me your word that you would keep that fuckwit under control.”
“I did, and I regret that he—”
“Those were the specific terms under which I released Glodowski to you. Alive. I was under the distinct impression that Miss Lowe, Molly, would hear nothing more from him.”
“I appreciate that, and I did relocate him to Warsaw. But unfortunately, he still managed to make a nuisance of himself.”
“Orchestrating an international art theft. Still active in the family business, obviously,” Ethan remarks.
“So I understand.” Kristian spares a glance up at the wall behind him. “His taste cannot be faulted, though. It is exquisite, is it not?”
So much for him not noticing…
“You knew what Borys was up to?”
Kristian shakes his head. “Sadly, no. Had I been involved, the original would still be in my possession. I became aware of the situation when I received an irate telephone call from a Sheikh Mustafa Saeed Al-Quraheen several days ago, claiming that I had relieved him of five point seven million euros and demanding that it be returned. Naturally, I was somewhat taken aback. I sought an explanation.”
“As you would.” Ethan is giving nothing away.
I can’t work out if he believes Kaminski or not.
“The sheikh was helpful, and my brother-in-law, too, was most forthcoming. Eventually. You will understand, he is feeling somewhat aggrieved at the most recent turn of events.”