Pavel turns to me. “What happened?”
“They…They just…” I lick my lips nervously.Am I reading this wrong?“Most of the wedding party wasreleased. Apparently Cardona’s lawyers got to bookingswhilethe NYPD was still wrapping up the arrests, pre-paid the bail and…”
My hand shakes, blurring the screen. But the words are still there. They’re imprinted in my head. How could they not be?
“… and now they’re gone. Berkowitz tried to fight it, but apparently everything was done by the book. He says the mayor’s threatening to get involved if the situation keeps escalating. There’s even talks of a snap election to put Berkowitz out of office for fighting the NYPD! His hands are tied and there’s nothing he can do…” I finish.
How could I have been so stupid! Of course Cardona has someone in bookings that he can call on for this exact situation! Of course he has a contingency—no, multiple contingencies—in place so he’d never see the inside of a jail cell.
More texts come and my confidence ebbs with each one.
“Berkowitz says he’s not been able to get in touch with his men at the church…” I look at Pavel. “Neither radio nor phone. He’s almost there now, personally, to make sure that nothing goes…”
Another text arrives on my phone. My heart sinks.
“Zoya is gone…Cardona must’ve taken her back.”
Pavel simply stares back at me.
I set my phone in my lap, shaking bitterly. My throat closes and my chest seizes with each attempt at breathing. “I failed…”
Any moment now, Pavel is going to gloat. He’s going to throw the whole thing in my face. He’s going to lecture me about how having his men go in would have been the better option. Why? Because then Cardona would have twelve holes in his face instead of him laughing on his way home. With Zoya in his lap.With fresh torment awaiting her.
I’m floating away like a lost balloon without anyone to ground me. I failed. Again.
I stare out the window as it hits me. “Go on. Boast. I know you want to.”
The stillness hurts as bad as what I know he’s about to say. I brace myself for impact, cowering away from him. Any minute now. He’s about to do it. But he doesn’t. The quiet doesn’t break. He doesn’t clear his throat. He doesn’t make a sound. I have to look at him to see if he’s even still in the car with me.
All I see is that pensive countenance. Nothing else.
I slide my hand toward him. “Pavel, say something.”
He looks away.
It’s not a jab. But it might as well be one. He’s disappointed in me because I pushed for this stupid plan. I painted it as the one way we could take down a total tyrant. And now I’m paying the price of my neglect to set something up in case this plan went south.
I never did answer his question the other day.
I don’t have a backup plan.
My muscles ache.He warned me.I pull my hand back and let it rest limply in my lap.He told me I should cover my bases. He knows better than me how these things go. I pinch my lips together to silence my sob.He probably thinks I’m an idiot.
The leather of the seat squeaks as Pavel leans forward. He taps on the glass. When the window descends, he clears his throat. “Stepan, turn the car around.”
Stepan makes an affirmative noise. The window rolls back up. The whirl of the tires dies down as he takes the first exit back to Coney Island. No questions asked. Maybe that’s how I should have been.
I rub my elbow. “Are you mad at me?”
“You tried, Liya.”
“And I fucked it all up.” I turn to him with trembling lips. I’m ready to break down, whether he cares about it or not. “What do I do now?”
He stares at the tinted window in front of him. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me?”
Nothing. Not a damn peep. He stares on as if I haven’t spoken to him at all. That’s his punishment for me—silence. The one thing that truly can break even the most resilient of us to pieces.