Free The Lost Souls of Angelkov by Linda Holeman

told you, I have friends. I can vouch for them—they’re decorated former Cossacks,” Soso said.
    Grisha didn’t even know if he could trust Soso, and didn’t know anything about the man’s friends, Edik and Lev. But it appeared Soso already had a plan in place: they would kidnap the count’s son. Kidnap him, demand ransom, get the money, give the boy back. Simple.
    Grisha didn’t like it. He told Soso to come up with another plan. Not kidnapping. He didn’t want to think of Mikhail Konstantinovich put into a dangerous situation. He had watched the boy grow up. Misha took after his mother in both appearance and character, and he was a winsome child. Grisha liked him.
    He wouldn’t be a part of it if it involved Misha.
    Soso assured him that the boy wouldn’t be mistreated, and would be fed and kept warm for the one or two nights he was held. That was all—a few nights, and then, when Grisha brought the money demanded by the ransom note, it would be divided four ways. They would each have more than enough to buy themselves what they needed to start their new lives: a plot of land or a small business. They would never again answer to a master.
    Soso said he, Edik and Lev were ready to go forward. Still Grisha refused. But only Grisha could make sure the kidnapping went smoothly, Soso argued. Only he had inside information as to the count’s movements. If Grisha wouldn’t go along with them, they would still carry out the plan, but might have to resort to violence to take the child. There might be bloodshed. Who knew what might happen to the boy? “Lev and Edik won’t wait forever,” Soso added. It was on Grisha’s head now—did he want this guilt?
    Guilt. Without knowing it, Soso had chosen the right tactic. And so Grisha agreed that he would alert Soso when the circumstances were right—when there was an opportunity to take the boy. “But,” he told him, “I’m going to make sure you don’t harm Mikhail Konstantinovich.”
    He also stressed that while the boy was still a few months from turning eleven years old, he was very clever. And while he wouldn’t recognize the Cossacks, he knew Soso; he was Lilya’s husband. There could not be even the slightest indication that Soso—or of course he—was involved.
    Soso told Grisha he understood, and would comply.
    “And what of Lilya?” Grisha added. “Will you share this with your wife?” Grisha knew how dedicated the womanwas to her mistress, and to the child. He so often saw the three of them—Antonina, Lilya and Misha—together.
    Soso slowly shook his head. “Lilya? I couldn’t trust her with this. She will know nothing.” He wiped his nose with his fingers. “Nothing,” he repeated. “Only the four of us are in on it.”
    The actual kidnapping—Grisha had been sitting back, watching through the trees—had not gone as smoothly as Soso had promised. Grisha was angry over the count’s injury. He had been promised, hadn’t he, that no one would be hurt.
    After that, it had all grown far worse. When he took the ransom money to Soso and the others a few days later, Mikhail had been there.
    It haunted him how the child’s face had lit up when he appeared in the clearing; the old memories from Chita flooded back. “Grisha!” Mikhail had cried out. “Grisha! Take me home!”
    Grisha had nodded. “Yes, yes, Mikhail, you will come back to Angelkov with me now.” He had ridden towards Soso, who, like Edik and Lev, had his face hidden.
    But when Grisha held out the packet of money, the men surrounded him, dragging him off his horse and beating him. It happened so unexpectedly that he wasn’t prepared. He fought back, hearing Misha calling his name, then crying
Papa
, and then there was nothing more. As he regained consciousness, he found his horse gone and the count on the ground near him, his Arabian nosing about in the half-frozen undergrowth.
    He was furious with Soso, and confronted him later that day. Soso, lifting heavy bags of grain in