The Actuary's Wife

by K T Bowes

  “You are not serious!” Emma whirled on the spot and faced Rohan, a grimace budding on her lips. As the men stared at her as a collective she realised the futility of her situation and fled from the room. She was half way along the corridor towards the sitting room when Rohan’s ungainly tread sounded behind her and she bit back a smirk of victory. Rohan Andreyev belonged to her, not the sour Russian at the kitchen table.

  “What’s funny?” Rohan pushed her against the wall of the hallway, preventing her reaching for the sitting room door handle. His hands straddled her hips, strong and protective as he pushed himself close. “It’s dead easy, but they don’t know that.” He lowered his lips to her neck and nibbled at the soft skin. “It’s awesome.”

  “No, you promised no more actuary jobs. And there’s something wrong with this; it’s not right!” Emma pushed her husband away, her brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s a fix! Another of Mikhail’s games.”

  “Just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s fake,” Rohan said, clasping Emma’s flailing hands and drawing them into his stomach. “I’ve done jobs round the corner and the profit was mine to keep. Backers don’t care how you do it as long as you get the job done cleanly.”

  Emma felt the coolness of her husband’s skin and snapped at him, distracted. “Put clothes on, Ro! You don’t usually wander round in your boxers and it’s freezing!”

  “It’s rattling my uncle and I intend it to.”

  “Why?” Emma pressed her lips against Rohan’s bicep and inhaled his musky scent. “Are you playing the sympathy card?”

  “Emma Andreyev!” He faked horror, his blue eyes wide and the expression ruined by his amusement. “I didn’t have time to put clothes on, but he didn’t know about my injuries; I want him to see how hard he made my life for his sport.”

  “He’s a wicked old man!” Emma hissed. “Why leave him alone with Christopher? He’s about as reliable as a chocolate teapot!”

  Rohan laughed and his comforting tenor carried along the hallway. “He wants the chance to work with me again. I believe he’ll remain trustworthy, for now.”

  Emma snorted. “Yeah, whatever!” She trailed kisses over the downy hair on Rohan’s chest and then pushed him away. “I’d still feel better if you were in there with the nasty uncle. Check on Nicky and I’ll run up and grab your clothes.” She set off towards the stairs at a jog and halted as Rohan called her name.

  “Emma!” She turned and he smiled. “I love you, zhenshchina.”

  “Yeah,” she replied over her shoulder. “You’d better!”

  Emma sat on her four poster bed with her head in her hands and Rohan’s shirt draped over her knees. A lipstick stain on the collar reminded her of their frantic tryst a few hours earlier although the blush of sex left with the entrance of Mikhail and Christopher. “What am I going to do?” she murmured, experiencing waves of panic interspersed with frustration. The simple task stretched before her like an impossible quest, the grail unattainable. Emma cradled her husband’s shirt and pressed it to her nose, knowing he waited downstairs for her but not able to face his enthusiasm with her catalogue of errors.

  “Nicky’s asleep on the dog,” Rohan said, stilling Emma with a hand on her shoulder as his voice made her jump. “Didn’t mean to scare you, devotchka. I thought you’d got lost.” He teased the shirt from her fingers and shrugged it over his muscular torso, grabbing his trousers from the floor and sitting on the bed to push his feet into them. Emma pointed wordlessly at a knife attached to the metal of his prosthetic and her husband grinned as he stood to close his zipper. “There’s a clip welded onto the shaft. It’s difficult to get off, but there if I need it.”

  “Can’t you put a magnet on the knife and it’ll stick?” Emma said, her voice sulky.

  “Nyet. Carbon fibre isn’t magnetic.” Rohan glanced up at her as he fixed his left shoe over his foot and tied the laces. “Somebody didn’t concentrate in physics class.”

  Emma snorted. “That’s because you had English next door and all I could think about was the kiss you’d give me on the way home.”

  Rohan smirked and leaned across, pressing his lips over hers. “Then I ruined your education and I’m truly sorry.” He put his palm over his heart in a noble salute and Emma laughed.

  “Idiot!”

  “So, about the job.” Rohan sat next to her and pressed his palms over his knees. “You know where to find this brass plaque at the school? It should be the easiest job yet and it’s the one to end this feud with the Contessa.” He looked thrilled and Emma chewed her bottom lip and exhaled in desperation.

  “It won’t,” she conceded. “I know everything about the plaque and even why someone would like it hidden for another century or two. I had it in my hands, catalogued and ready to scan. When I realised the problem it might cause, I got Sam to hide it but when I went looking last night, it wasn’t there.”

  “Der’mo!” Rohan swore and lay back on the mattress with force. “This is bad, Emma, really bad.”

  Chapter 30

  “Why does the horrid Russian keep asking for his syn? Isn’t that what you call Nicky? Son?”

  Rohan nodded. “Da. His son’s hiding in my house on Newcombe Street.”

  Emma shook her head, her eyes narrowed as she hunted for lies. “No, you’re hiding a woman and baby.” Her face fell. “A baby who looks like Nicky.”

  “Ah, Emma,” Rohan breathed. He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “You’re too sharp for your own good, devotchka.”

  Emma swallowed and waited for him to break her heart, surprised when he chuckled. “Except in physics. You suck at that.”

  “Just tell me!” she bit, her tone heavy. “Who does the baby belong to?”

  “The boy’s my nephew.”

  Emma looked up and stared at her husband sideways, doubt shrouding her expression. She opened her mouth to speak and Rohan placed a gentle finger over her lips. “His father, Sergei Romanov is my younger brother and Artyom is his son. The woman you saw is Sergei’s wife, Bella.”

  Emma gaped, the absence of words an unusual curse. Her brow knitted as she thought of Anton being replaced and nausea roiled in her gut. “How can he be your brother?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “There was only Anton and you.”

  Rohan ran a hand over his eyes and kept his other arm around Emma’s shoulder. “After my sister died, Mama conceived again. She grew sick at the end of her pregnancy with fever and swelling and the local doctor hospitalised her. The child died in the womb and was removed by Cesarean section. We grieved and it prompted my father to apply for the diplomatic role in England. We left Russia for London and never spoke of the baby again.”

  “That’s awful!” Emma shuddered. “But it doesn’t explain how Sergei’s your brother.”

  Rohan paused, his face ashen. “While I was away last time, I completed the job and headed home as usual. I knew Hack watched so took detours. When I reached London, I received communication through my tech from a Russian in Moscow who used our coded email address. He fielded it and passed it through as I reached England. Before he died, Anton became obsessed with finding family members. I wasn’t interested, but it was a passion for him. Dolan helped and they identified numerous cousins and a few uncles we hadn’t known.” Rohan stopped and sighed.

  “You were young when you left Russia,” Emma said, her tone soothing. Impatience made her want to demand answers but wisdom told her to wait. “It’s understandable you don’t remember everyone.”

  “I didn’t want to know, Emma; I have my reasons. But apparently Anton found Sergei and made contact with this supposed cousin. They met in Moscow last summer and Sergei said they both knew immediately something was wrong and made discreet enquiries through the Russian authorities, finding nothing. There was no record of Sergei’s birth or documents relating to his mother’s pregnancy.”

  “What do you mean, ‘they both knew something was wrong’?” Emma’s brow furrowed.

  “They were id
entical, Em; like twins. When you meet him, you’ll understand.”

  “Oh.” Emma lay back on the bed to process the tale.

  Rohan nodded. “Mama’s baby didn’t die. Her sister-in-law took him and raised the child as her own.”

  Emma shook her head. “How? Weren’t there doctors and nurses to stop that happening?”

  “You have no idea how corrupt Russia was then. A bribe could secure anything.”

  “But what about your uncle? Or was he in on the deception?”

  “Obviously not, judging by his behaviour recently.” Rohan wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “My uncle was a soldier in communist Russia and when the government changed, he was considered a violent dissident. Six months before Sergei’s birth he was sentenced to five years prison in Siberia. It was entirely probable the child was his. There was no family contact with prisoners and he arrived home to find a blonde haired child who looked like him. My family left Russia two months after Mama gave birth and she disliked Mikhail’s wife and had no reason to see her. She doesn’t know Sergei’s alive and I don’t know how to tell her.”

  “But Anton must have told you this. Why does it seem like you only just found out?”

  “He tried.” Rohan sighed in exasperation. “I didn’t hear him out. Apart from Mikhail, I wanted nothing to do with the family. It was just one of the conversations he tried to have with me in the hospital before he died.”

  “The other one was about me and Nicky, wasn’t it?” Emma said, stroking his arm. Rohan nodded. “Da. I was always good at avoiding the truth.” Regret filled his expression, his head drooping and his eyes closed. “I’m a fool, a durak.”

  “Daddy said you can’t hide from truth,” Emma said, remembering her father’s gentle teaching. “It always gets you in the end.”

  “Well, it sure has,” Rohan mused, shaking his head so his blonde fringe bounced on his eyelashes.

  “This is sick,” Emma whispered, clutching her stomach. “They stole Alanya’s baby?”

  Rohan nodded. “Da.”

  “But without documents or witnesses, how could Anton prove it?” She sat up, intrigued by the tale, cocking her head to hear Rohan better and resting her cheek against his shoulder.

  “DNA tests,” Rohan replied. “By the time he returned home, Anton knew Sergei was our brother. It was around the time he discovered he was dying.”

  “Does Sergei know Anton died?” Emma asked. “You wouldn’t have known to contact him.”

  Rohan shook his head. “No. He’d been trying to speak to Anton for months before he found me.”

  “So why did Sergei need to contact you? Did he hear about Anton another way?”

  Rohan shook his head. “Anton figured it was best to leave Sergei in the life he created for himself and maintain regular contact, but recently something happened. Uncle discovered he had leukemia and needed healthy bone marrow to survive. With only one son as a blood relative in Russia, Sergei was tested. His blood group didn’t match Uncle’s and raised suspicion for the old man.”

  “But Nicky might have my blood group instead of yours, or be a cross between them. That’s not a red flag for anything; Sergei might be a match for Mikhail’s wife.”

  Rohan rolled his eyes. “Sergei was born while Uncle was in prison, remember. My aunt died when Sergei was fifteen and her medical records showed an unusual blood group. The matter perplexed Mikhail enough to do DNA tests without Sergei’s knowledge.”

  “How can you do it without someone knowing?” Emma asked and Rohan shook his head, balling his hands in frustration.

  “Hair from a comb, saliva on a glass; anything, Emma. What’s relevant is when the results came back, Mikhail became furious enough to take Bella and the baby to his compound and hold them at gunpoint.”

  “How could he hold Sergei responsible?” Emma complained and Rohan raised an eyebrow.

  “You’ve seen him, Em. He’s hardly rational, is he?”

  “What happened?”

  “The old man had a seizure and Bella escaped. They left Russia in a panic, getting as far as Kiev. When Sergei couldn’t reach Anton, in desperation he used the email address Anton gave him before he left. He told him it was only for emergencies and would cause upset. Sergei knew nothing about me only that I was a viable contact in time of trouble.”

  “What a shock for you,” Emma whispered.

  Rohan nodded. “Da, to receive a request for help from my dead brother wasn’t what I expected from a business email marked as urgent.”

  “But you helped him.” Emma pursed her lips, ruing her own misery for jumping to wrong conclusions.

  “Da. My tech organised passports and visas for the UK within a few days and I met the family at Heathrow for the first time.”

  “Genuine passports?” Emma asked, her face earnest and Rohan stroked her cheek with tender fingers.

  “Of course not, devotchka.”

  “So, they’re illegals?” Emma exhaled and bit her lip.

  “Their documents will pass reasonable scrutiny, but da, they’ll be imprisoned and deported if discovered. The trip to the doctor was fraught with danger in case the documents weren’t accepted. Decent ones take time.”

  “Sorry.” Emma cuddled harder into her husband and wrapped her arms around his rigid torso. “I bet they think I’m an idiot for my scene in the street.” She sighed.

  Rohan kissed the top of her head. “Bella was devastated. She doesn’t speak much English but knew you were important to me. She tried to get out of the car to explain but I couldn’t risk it. Dolan would use the family as leverage against me and I felt caught between losing you and risking them.”

  Emma bit back her pique that Rohan didn’t throw his family to Dolan to save his marriage. She knew it was unreasonable but the fact stung. “Is that why your uncle keeps asking for the boy?” she asked instead. “He wants Sergei. What will he do to him if he finds him?”

  “I don’t know,” Rohan replied. “He’s staring death in the face and can’t take it. Maybe he wants a tearful reunion or to rid himself of a scam he wasn’t part of.”

  “So he’s still sick?” Emma said and Rohan nodded.

  “Da. And furious about Mama being in prison. Last time I saw her she rattled on and on about Mikhail so I suspect he visited recently. I’ve begun to wonder if losing two children was the final straw for Mama. She keeps trying to give me an herbal recipe for vitamins and telling me I have to take care of Nicky or he’ll die.”

  “Whatever!” Emma scoffed. “Final straw? She killed your little sister and two husbands, plus a heap of defenseless old men in the apartments. Why do you always make excuses for her?”

  Rohan shook his head to clear it and changed the subject. “How do we get the plaque back? It’s the key to ending all this. Uncle will hand it to the client and return to Russia. The client claims to have influence with Che and the Triads and will agree a truce on delivery. Mikhail doesn’t know for sure I’ve met my brother and I can keep bluffing him. He’s making wild assumptions, so if I keep playing dumb, he’ll look elsewhere in whatever time he has left.”

  “So this sort of risk elimination is genuine?” Emma asked, still sounding doubtful. “You’ve fetched things this small before?”

  “Da, I told you. I don’t care what the job is as long as the money’s good enough. In this case, there’s more at stake than that. Mikhail accepted the job, Em. You know what that means. I have to follow through.”

  Chapter 31

  “Did your uncle kill the Chinese person at the gate?” Emma whispered in the hallway.

  “Da,” Rohan replied. “For sure.”

  “Why?” she asked and Rohan halted, his slender fingers on the door knob.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would he kill him? It seems an odd thing to do and why would the Triads negotiate when he wiped out one of their foot soldiers? He’s behaving like he didn’t know about me, Nicky or this house. He wouldn’t agree to meet you elsewhere if he knew he
could just show up here, would he? It doesn’t feel right.”

  Rohan nodded slowly. “You’re right. Perhaps the Triads owe the client a favour.” He worried at his bottom lip with his teeth and pondered on Emma’s question. Then he shrugged. “It’s all academic, Em. We’re caught now; we have to retrieve the plaque and make the deadline. Then we’ll see how it pans out.”

  “You’re an actuary!” Emma said, her eyes wide in disbelief. “These are significant risks which it’s your job to weigh.”

  Rohan stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “And sometimes, Em, despite the best endeavours, you still have to fly by the seat of your pants and hope it turns out ok.”

  Inside the kitchen he questioned the old man in Russian, receiving a slow head shake and denial in English. “Nyet. Not me,” Mikhail maintained. “This is first time I come to this house.” He waved a casual hand to indicate the old fashioned kitchen. “Is impressive. You do well with my backing.” His blue eyes glinted spite and Emma recoiled and opened her mouth to claim ownership of everything he saw. Rohan stopped her with a look of warning and a slight shake of his head.

  Emma saw her husband glance in Christopher’s direction and the Irishman nodded in affirmation. He’d watched the murder from a distance and denied it was Mikhail. To her surprise, Rohan left the matter alone, sending Christopher to the gate with his uncle. “Don’t come back,” he told Mikhail with authority. “We won’t meet again. I don’t know where your son is so look elsewhere. Uncle, our business agreement is over.”