"But Dad didn't sell you."
Anna's tears flowed down.
"Then... then what should I do?"
There was a three-second silence on the other end.
Then the voice said:
"Wait."
Anna was stunned.
"Wait for what?"
The voice was very soft:
"Wait for someone to come rescue you."
March 28, 1998, 12 noon, Moscow suburb, that villa.
The Boss sat in the large chair, holding a glass of vodka.
The fire in the fireplace was blazing, but his back was still cold.
The phone rang.
He picked it up.
"Boss, Grisha called Anna."
The Boss nodded.
"I know."
The voice on the other end paused.
"He told her he didn't sell her. He told her we were deceiving her."
The Boss laughed.
"So what?"
The other end was stunned.
"So what?"
The Boss stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, Moscow's snow had melted, revealing the gray ground. The sky was still gray, indistinguishable whether it was morning or afternoon.
