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son of the revolution,” Vlad said.
“She has the impatience of youth,” Filip continued, as if Vlad not spoken. “And a certain air of
entitlement that most people find –“
“All right, all right, this is getting us nowhere,” Gregor said quickly, sitting up in his chair, for
Filip had pushed too far and Vlad could be impulsive when angered. “We shall take the girl to the
warehouse as planned, with the understanding she cannot remain there long. And we ask for…how
much money? It must be enough to fund our work with the collectives, just as Filip said, but no one
must ever know the ransom was paid to the Volya. So what is the right amount? Perhaps twenty
thousand rubles?”
“Thirty thousand,” Vlad countered.
“But is that too much?”
Vlad shook his head. “We must be bold. He will surely pay it. She is his daughter, after all.”
“You are right. Thirty thousand.” Gregor looked across the table at Filip. “And why do you
chuckle? What do you find so funny?”
“Make it a hundred,” Filip said. “Thirty thousand rubles is less than the tsarina spends on a
gown.”