Chapter 2095 - 855: Twists and Turns_2

The Syrians have retreated. The Americans have bombed. The Squid Men held their ground.

He turned off the TV.

Bramo pushed the door open and came in.

"Victor, there's news from Saint Petersburg."

Victor lifted his head.

"Speak."

Bramo handed the tablet to him.

On the screen was a video. The quality was poor, shaking heavily, as if it was shot with a phone.

In the footage was a little girl—thin, pale, large eyes, sitting on a worn mattress, facing the camera.

"My name is Anna Voronova." She started, speaking Russian, with a sob in her voice, "My father is Grisha Voronov. He's in Mexico. He sold me. He doesn't want me anymore."

Victor looked at that face.

Fourteen. The same age as his daughter.

"I hate him." She said, "I hate him."

The video ended there.

Victor put the tablet down.

Bramo stood beside him.

"Victor, the Principal sent this. It's all over the internet now."

Victor nodded.

"What does he want to do?"

Bramo thought for a moment.

"He wants Grisha to break down. He wants Grisha to turn. He wants—"

"He wants the whole world to see." Victor interrupted him, "To see Grisha's daughter hating him. To see Grisha is a fraud. To see the Mexicans helping a fraud."

He stood up, walked to the window.

Outside, the traffic on Paseo de la Reforma was already jammed. Someone was honking, someone was cursing, someone stuck their head out of a car window, looking in the direction of the National Palace.

"That Principal," he began, "is smarter than I thought."

Bramo waited for the rest.

Victor turned around.

"He doesn't want Grisha's life. He wants Grisha's name."

He walked back to the desk, picked up the report on Anna's video.

"Tell Bennett to let Grisha watch this video."

Bramo paused.

"Let him watch? Then he—"

"Let him watch." Victor interrupted him, "Let him know where his daughter is. Let him know what his daughter said. Let him know—"

He paused.

"Let him know what he should do."

March 28, 1998, 10:00 AM, Northern Prison.

Grisha sat in the interrogation room, an untouched breakfast laid out in front of him.

He couldn't eat.

The door opened.

Bennett came in, holding a tablet.

"Mr. Voronov, there's news about your daughter."

Grisha lifted his head.

"She...where is she?"

Bennett didn't answer.

He placed the tablet in front of Grisha, played a video.

On the screen, Anna sat on a worn mattress, eyes swollen, facing the camera.

"My name is Anna Voronova. My father is Grisha Voronov. He's in Mexico. He sold me. He doesn't want me anymore."

Grisha's hands began to tremble.

"I hate him." She said, "I hate him."

The video ended.

Grisha stood there, staring at the now black screen, tears falling down.

"What she... she said..."

Bennett looked at him.

"What she said isn't true."

Grisha lifted his head.

"I know." Bennett said, "But she doesn't."

Grisha's tears flowed more fiercely.

"Mr. Bennett... she hates me..."

Bennett was silent for three seconds.

Then he spoke:

"Do you hate her?"

Grisha froze.

"What?"

Bennett looked at him.

"Your daughter hates you. Do you hate her?"

Grisha shook his head.

"I... I don't hate..."

Bennett nodded.

"Then tell her."

Grisha froze.

"How to tell?"

Bennett took a phone from his pocket, handed it to him.

"Call."

Grisha looked at the phone, hands trembling.

"Call...call who?"

Bennett looked at him.

"Call your daughter."

March 28, 1998, 11:00 AM, Saint Petersburg, that basement.

Anna sat on the mattress, looking at the door.

Just now, that video, she spoke. After she finished, that tall, thin man laughed, said "good," and then left.

She didn't know if she had done right or wrong.

She only knew, she hated him.

The door opened.

That tall, thin man came in again, holding a phone.

"Anna, it's your father's call."

Anna froze.

"He...he called me?"

The man nodded, handed her the phone.

"Answer."

Anna took the phone, put it to her ear.

A voice came through—a hoarse, shaky voice, like it drifted from a faraway place.

"Anna..."

She didn't speak.

"Anna, it's Dad."

She still didn't speak.

There was silence on the other end for three seconds.

Then the voice spoke again:

"Anna, that video...did they force you to film it?"

Anna's tears fell.

"You...how do you know?"

There was silence on that end too.

Three seconds later, the voice said:

"Because Dad is in their hands too."

Anna froze.

"They...they caught you?"

"They did." The voice said, "But your words, they forced you to say them."

Anna's tears flowed more fiercely.

"I...I don't know..."

"You don't know." The voice interrupted her, "But you know one thing—"

He paused.

"Anna, Dad didn't sell you."

Anna's hands shook.

"Then...why did you go to Mexico?"

There was silence on the other end for two seconds.

Then the voice said:

"Because Dad was looking for the Principal."

Anna froze.

"The Principal?"

"Yes. The Principal. The one who sent the Chechens to Europe. The one who made the Squid Men fight in Syria. The one—"

He paused.

"The one who captured you."

Anna looked up at the tall, thin man standing at the door.

The man was also looking at her.

"Anna," the voice continued, "Dad did many wrong things. Killed people, trafficked drugs, smuggled arms. Dad is a bad person."

He paused.