Noticing my look, they stepped away.
“The problem is that nobody’s heard or seen anything from her. If I’d seen her get smooshed by a steamroller, I’d be only too happy. That would be simple and easy—an accident, a grave in Novodevichy Cemetery, and a speech to her colleagues at her funeral. But this, with no traces or witnesses, it looks bad. Who knows what could have happened? She knew quite a bit about everyone here, and that’s why everyone’s out looking for her.”
“Does the Old Man know?” I had to ask.
“Not yet,” Valyaev replied darkly. “Don’t you spill the beans, either.”
“Like I’ll even have the chance,” I snorted.
Valyaev squinted at me. “Hey, brother, you never know what twists and turns life is going to take. Anyway, we’ll figure it out. Are you going to be drinking champagne with us, by the way? It’s actually a pretty big honor. A lot of people would love to get into this party. It’s the only time of year everyone is on the same level, from the girls at the reception desk to us celestials.”
“Very democratic of you.”
“Absolutely.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “In the beginning, a bunch of people, who didn’t live here, just stayed late at work for a chance to party with management. We put a stop to that, though, and now, you can only come if you have a shift or you live here. The building is swept at nine to make sure everyone’s out, and the doors are closed at ten until the next morning.”
“Yeah, I’ll be here….with Vika, of course.”
“I don’t know why you’d bring someone when you could find someone there, but whatever,” Valyaev said as he flicked his lighter open. “Anyway, just wink at me if you want to use the room I have set up with a couch. I’ll distract your girlfriend, take her up dancing or something. In a good way, I mean; I’d never go after a friend’s girl.”
There was only one thing on his mind.
“You can smoke in here?” I asked, looking around.
“I’ve never thought about it. Probably not, though. Hey, I completely forgot, what with everything that’s going on. Nice job finishing up the quest for the key. Well done!”
“Yep, some good work right there.”
“But why didn’t you go to Rivenholm with Ort?” Valyaev asked, screwing his face up. “That was a chance in a million!”
I shouldn’t have gotten mad at Kostya. The whole thing had been set up above his head.
“Nikita, come on, skip it. You get it, I get it, and there’s no point in this.”
“I hear you. That was an interesting solution, though, wasn’t it? Any other gamer in your shoes would’ve jumped at the chance.”
“Of course. It really was unique.”
“The fun is about to start over in Rivenholm,” Valyaev said, rubbing his hands together. “Everything that’s going to happen over there, mamma mia! Yeah, you’re going to be publishing an announcement about the Arrival of Ort Blazing in the next issue; I’ll send you a general idea of the different events. It’ll hit the road around the end of January, and I think we’ll see a lot of people heading that way.”
“For sure,” I nodded.
Valyaev finished his cigarette, pulled a portable ashtray out of his pocket, and dropped the butt into it.
“Where are you even going?” he asked me. “Or are you just out for a walk?”
“A walk? No, I’m on my way to talk to Max about the New Year’s party at our office today. He said I was supposed to come up and discuss me being there. So, here I—”
“That’s a bad idea—you shouldn’t be going out. You don’t really think you have to, do you?”
“I do,” I replied firmly. “They’re my people, and it wouldn’t look good for me not to show up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. People come and go, but you only have one head.”
He did have a point. Sadly, people don’t have friends like they used to back in the days Dumas and Aimard wrote about. All we have now are people nearby with common interests, the ones you work next to and see more than your own family. You spend nine or more hours with them every day, while your family gets no more than four, and you start to get the feeling you have deep, binding relationships with them. Once you get a new job, however, that all changes. First, you call each other and promise to get together “really soon,” and you both believe that will happen. A week goes by, then a month, and it’s over, though. They’re lost to you in the big city; their pictures on social media are all that remains of them. A year or two later, and you don't even wish each other a happy birthday anymore. Friendship is too great a luxury in modern life. There just isn’t time for it, however sad that may be.
“Agreed,” I nodded. “Still, I promised.”
“Screw you.” Valyaev shook his head, bemoaning my stupidity. “Don’t forget to take some fighters with you.”
“I wanted to ask Azov for the twins, but I couldn’t get hold of him. Now, I know why. He’s out looking for Yadviga, right?”
Valyaev grinned unpleasantly. “Azov? No, we have other people looking for Yadviga. Azov is busy, very busy. There’s no need for you to call him.”
Um… It looked like I had been right; Ilya’s luck had run out. That’s a shame. He was a good guy.
“How am I supposed to find the two girls now?” I asked Valyaev, adding some dismay to my voice. “I mean, the ones who can shoot with either hand and don’t need to eat anything with their alcohol.”
“They didn’t go anywhere,” Valyaev replied with some surprise. “If you need them, they’ll take care of you. No, what I want to know is why you were going to tell Max about heading out and not me. Do I not count?”
That was definitely a slip-up on my part. Valyaev was sensitive and proud, and I’d gone and shown him up for no reason.
“Nikita, why would I tell the guy who knows everything?” I asked with a smile. “A fly couldn’t get into Raidion without you knowing, isn’t that right?”
“Flattery and fawning,” Valyaev grumbled happily. “You’re an unscrupulous, slippery guy, Harriton Nikiforov, and that’s what I’ve always liked about you.”
He jabbed my stomach with his fist as he gave me some friendly advice. “Don’t give Max that crap about your people. Just talk about subordination and systems. He likes that kind of thing.”
“Thanks, I will,” I nodded.
“Excellent.” Valyaev turned to the pair of workers. “Well, you mongrels, what are you doing just standing there? Is everything done?”
“Sure, basically,” the thicker one replied.
“Did you order mineral water? If you’re going to have vodka and cognac everywhere, we’ll all wake up with a headache. That’s not fair. Oh, hey, I’m a poet!”
“Of course,” said the thinner one. “Borjomi.”
“Good choice,” I said. “That’s the best thing for you in the morning, especially on January first.”
“Why’s that?” Valyaev asked in surprise. “Aren’t the rest of them just as good?”
“It’s simple. With Borjomi, you eat macaroni. It’s the best cure for a hangover.”
“Screw you,” Valyaev shot back. “You and your jokes.”
I walked away, but I didn’t get any farther than the reception desk.
***
“Hello there.” Two green eyes glittering craftily found mine, and a swirl of red hair dipped down from under the white fur of a blue Snow Maiden hat. My blood pressure spiked. I’d forgotten what Dasha always did to me. How does she even do it, anyway?
“Oh, hey,” I croaked back. “Happy New Year!”
The tip of a red tongue popped out to run along her lips. “You, too. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“We haven’t, one or the other of us is never around.”
“What, you were looking for me?” Dasha clasped her face with her hands. “That’s adorable!”
I stood there, like a statue, afraid to say anything. From the sound of it, anything I said could and would be
used against me.
“Dasha!” called the only girl without a hat. Presumably, she was in charge of that shift, and she was glaring at the red devil. “Stop that before it’s too late.”
“What am I doing?” Dasha replied indignantly. “I’m just chatting with a cute guy. We know each other, too—pretty well, in fact.”
“She’s right that we know each other,” I said for no real reason.
“Forget them,” Dasha said with a wave at her colleagues. “They’re worried about that Polish witch, and I’d be fine if she up and died. Come on, I’ll walk you to the elevator.”
“You don’t think you’re going to regret saying that?” the supervisor asked, eyes narrowed.
“Nope.” Dasha stepped out from behind the counter and took me by the arm. “I don’t. I just say what I think. They wouldn’t let anything happen to me, right?”
Valyaev broke out laughing out of nowhere, and I thought I even heard him clapping.
She pressed up against me. “Who needs them? They’re always afraid of something, afraid of thinking or saying the wrong thing. Half of them have had abortions done after that one got through with them, anyway.”
“Valyaev certainly gets around. He hasn’t come after you, yet?”
“The only people who come after me are the ones I’m interested in,” she replied softly. “That’s it. Will you be here New Year’s Eve?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m not that excited about it, but—”
“It’ll be fun. It’s always fun here on New Year’s Eve.”
“What about you?”
“What do you want?” The girl’s eyes practically danced with glee. “Would you rather me be here or not?”
“Dasha, stop it. Get that witchcraft away from me!”
“Idiot!” The mirth in her eyes gave way to fear, and my cheek stung from the force of her slap. “Think before you speak. Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing the spot where she’d hit me. She’d put some force behind it. “What did I say?”
“Stupidity,” Dasha practically whispered. “Dangerous and really bad; I’m just glad nobody saw.”
She was right—we’d gotten to the elevators by that time.
“Okay, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” she said with a playful curtsey. “New Year’s Eve is the kind of night… Who knows what will happen?”
***
The cherry on top of everything that had just happened would have been a surprise from Eliza, I thought as I headed up in the elevator. That would do it. But what I couldn’t figure out was why Dasha had such an effect on me. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I’d left the days behind me (thank God) when I’d look at single women and instantly try to calculate my chances of sleeping with them. Still, there I was, in the middle of some kind of hormonal explosion. There was something unnatural and wrong with it. Sure, she’s cute; she’s a redhead, but there are plenty of those. It was ridiculous.
And what could have possibly been the problem with what I said?
***
Eliza wasn’t at her desk, so I got into Zimin’s office without being noticed.
“Oh, hey, Kif.” He gestured me toward a seat and continued digging away at the pile of papers on his desk. “Take a load off.”
“Am I interrupting something? I mean, I can…”
“Not at all,” Zimin replied, emphasizing each word as he looked over a couple documents and tossed them into the trash. “Just doing a New Year’s cleaning. All the junk that builds up over the year—you have no idea.”
“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I said as I plopped down into the chair. “Speaking of papers, though, I picked one up recently, and I’m not sure what I should do about it. What do you think?”
I handed him Jeremiah’s letter, which he unfolded and read.
Actually, it wasn’t exactly Jeremiah’s letter. It was an exact copy I’d written before tearing up the original and leaving my apartment, though I wasn’t sure why I’d done that.
“Same as always; nothing worthwhile,” he said finally. “What’s wrong with them? I have no idea how they haven’t gone bankrupt, yet. Hey, why is this written on our paper?”
Zimin held the paper up to the light.
“Yeah, this is ours. What’s going on?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Eh, I got rid of the original, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Zimin asked, eyeing me distrustfully.
“I don’t know,” I replied a bit angrily. “I just tore it up.”
“That happens,” he nodded knowingly. “It hits me once in a while, and that’s it; I need to hit the cognac or the cards, sometimes, I mix them—but are you sure you wrote everything exactly the way it was?”
“Absolutely. My memory is still excellent!”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, again looking at me suspiciously. “Whatever, there isn’t much here to remember, anyway. A bunch of rambling nonsense, just like always. What’s the point of even having them around—”
“Don’t ask me that. All I need to know is if I should meet with Jeremiah or forget it.”
Zimin dropped the letter into one of his desk drawers. “I think you should go. It won’t hurt, that’s for sure, so you can get in touch with him after New Year’s. I already know they didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping, but they may have dug something up. They have a wide-reaching network of agents; can’t take that away from them. Ours are better, but they have more of them. That’s neither here nor there, though.”
“Okay, so, I’ll aim for the third?”
“Sounds good,” Zimin nodded as he grabbed the next pile of papers on his desk. “The third is perfect. Everyone will be out on the streets by then, and I’ll have Edward pick a good spot.”
“Edward is…?” That was the first I heard his name, so the confusion and curiosity on my face were completely sincere.
“Our temporary head of security,” he replied. Another few papers found their way into the trash, some of them getting torn up beforehand. “When are they going to bring a shredder in here? What was I talking about? Oh, right. While Azov’s gone, Edward is keeping an eye on Radion. You know what I mean?”
“Okay, then let me ask you this, will he be the one sending people with me today?” I really wanted to know why Azov wasn’t there and if he’d be back, but I decided to stay away from that line of questioning. “While Azov’s gone” means we may not have seen the last of him.
“What’s today?” Zimin asked, pulling himself away from his papers.
I stood up. “My event—the one at the office. The people there need to shake the boss’s hand. Otherwise the system doesn’t work.”
“Yes, that’s true,” he nodded. “Just leave them alone… Although, isn’t Vika there? She’ll keep them on their toes!”
I frowned. “Still, I want to be there myself just in case. People need to know that the boss is still there.”
“You’re right,” Zimin sighed. “Just don’t drink. It’s fine if you do here, but don’t do it when you’re out there, okay?”
“I wasn’t planning on anything more than a symbolic sip,” I said, happy that it was going to happen. “No getting drunk for me.”
Zimin picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Edward, come see me. Right now.”
“Don’t worry, Kif,” Zimin said to me reassuringly as he hung up. “Believe me; Edward knows what he’s doing. I’ve known him for quite a while.”
“You’ve worked together?”
Zimin pushed back in his chair. “No, not exactly. Raidion really values family ties, and Edward is my second cousin on my father’s side, so he and I have known each other for forever. His father even served under mine for a while. Basically, we grew up together. But that’s just between us. It isn’t a secret, but still…”
“Got it, Maxim. My lips are sealed.”
Someone knocked at the door, and it opened to reveal a
tall man in a flawlessly fitted suit. He was the kind of guy at least ninety percent of the women I know would have oohed and aahed over. There was no other way to put it. He was a young, Scandinavian god—the wide shoulders, the blue eyes, the blond hair, the dimple in the middle of his chin… I felt small and weak in comparison to the peak of masculine perfection looking back at me. Maybe, I shouldn’t bring Vika to the New Year’s party.
“Edward, this is Kif, the one I told you about,” Zimin said, pointing at me.
“Edward,” the handsome man said, holding out his hand.
I took it, the thought flashing through my mind that a wooden oar would probably have been softer than his palm. Damn!
“Eddie, our friend here would like to attend an event outside Raidion,” Zimin said. “Make sure he’s safe.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Edward replied firmly. “If there are people out there hunting him, a trip like that is dangerous.”
“I agree,” Zimin nodded, “though Kif is a stubborn guy. It’s okay, though. His reputation is on the line, and that’s a strong argument.”
“Okay, then, cousin, I’ll send my people with him if you don’t mind. I’d rather not involve the previous regime’s people.”
Zimin glanced at me; I just blinked, as if to say it didn’t matter to me.
“Do whatever you think is best,” Zimin said dryly. “Kif, have a good trip and be back by eight tonight.”
I realized that we were being tactfully shown the door and bowed out. My question about Kasimov was going to have to wait for another day. There’s a time and a place for everything.
“When are you planning on leaving?” Edward asked.
“It starts at four, so we need to be on the road by two.” I sighed.
“From what I remember, it isn’t far,” he said in surprise. “Why leave that early?”
“This is Moscow, Edward. Worse, it’s Moscow right before New Year’s Eve. If it weren’t for all your safeguards, I’d just take the metro. We might not even make it in two hours. And coming back…”
“What a strange city. You don’t get that in London.”
The Right to Choose Page 7