Comrade Cowgirl

by Yolanda Wallace

  Frustrated by her inability to get her point across, Elena grew more and more agitated.

  “Hold on.”

  Laramie pounded on Anastasia’s door. The sound was startling, especially so early in the morning, but she didn’t have time for niceties. When she didn’t receive a response, she banged on the door again. This time even harder than before.

  “Ana, wake up! I need you.”

  A few seconds later, Anastasia finally came to the door. When she pulled it open, her hair was tousled and she was still wearing her pj’s. “What is happening?” she asked, rubbing her sleep-reddened eyes. “It is not yet time for alarm. I had fifteen more minutes left.”

  Anastasia’s voice was gravelly and her accent thicker than normal. Both were almost unbearably sexy. Ignoring the pleasant effects this version of Anastasia was having on her, Laramie focused on discovering the cause of Elena’s distress.

  “Please tell me what she’s saying.”

  Elena gripped Anastasia’s hands in hers and began to speak. While she listened, Anastasia’s expression changed from confused to apprehensive to angry. When Mischa joined them, she said something to him and pointed over her head. His face drained of color, then he turned and ran back up the stairs, his baggy T-shirt flapping on his lanky frame. Laramie heard his feet pounding on the ceiling as he ran down the second floor hallway.

  “What—”

  Anastasia held up a hand, cutting her off. She shouted something in Russian and cocked her head while she waited for Mischa to respond. He appeared at the top of the stairs and shook his head. Whatever he said made Anastasia’s shoulders droop.

  “Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Laramie asked.

  “It is Yevgeny,” Anastasia said reluctantly. “He must have figured out real reason Mischa is here.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “His room is empty. He has packed belongings and taken van. Keys are kept in same place every day so they do not get lost. When Elena went into kitchen to make breakfast, she noticed keys were missing. She looked outside and saw van was gone. When she went upstairs, she discovered Yevgeny was gone, too. He is—How do you say? In the breeze.”

  “In the wind,” Laramie said. “What about his laptop and the ledgers? Did he take those, too?”

  “Safe is locked,” Mischa said. “Unless he took them while everyone was outside yesterday night, laptop and ledgers are still there.”

  “Call a locksmith,” Laramie said. “We need someone to crack that safe. Do any companies offer twenty-four-hour service around here?”

  Anastasia quickly conferred with Elena.

  “She says there is one place that does, but the owner charges more than the other businesses in town.”

  “Get them on the phone. Right now. Cost is no object.”

  Anastasia relayed the information, and Elena ran down the hall to complete her assigned task.

  “I will call my uncle,” Mischa said. “Members of his security team are former agents with Federal Security Service. It is still early. Perhaps they can use contacts to find Yevgeny before he leaves country.”

  “What will they do if they manage to track him down?” Laramie asked.

  Mischa answered her question with one of his own. “What would you do if someone stole from you?”

  “Whatever the law allows.”

  “In Russia,” Mischa said with a sad smile, “law does not apply to everyone.”

  “That’s something else our countries have in common.”

  * * *

  Anastasia felt defeated. Based on the dour expressions she saw on the faces of the people surrounding the breakfast table, everyone else felt the same way.

  A few hours ago, she had been confident that the plan she, Laramie, and Mischa had concocted would allow them to catch Yevgeny by surprise. Instead, they had been the ones who were caught unawares. It was if they were playing checkers and he was playing chess. While they were focused on the next move, he had been thinking about the end game. This morning, he had reached checkmate.

  Had they done or said something to tip him off, or had he decided he had enough and it was time to get out? In most criminals’ minds, there was no such thing as enough. Whatever the reason, he was gone and they were left trying to take the puzzle pieces he had left behind and form them into a cohesive whole with nothing to use as a guide.

  Elena set a platter of cheese pancakes and a platter of sausages on the table. The sirniki and sausages looked delicious, but no one seemed to feel like eating.

  “Uncle Sergei said his security team will do everything they can to find Yevgeny,” Mischa said. “They have already alerted agents along the southern border to be on the lookout if he tries to drive into Kazakhstan or Ukraine. Two people are heading for his hometown in Estonia in case he winds up there. Several others are staking out the train stations and airports in Moscow.”

  “That’s fine for them, but what are we supposed to do?” Fyodor asked disconsolately.

  Even though Mischa had started the conversation, everyone’s eyes naturally gravitated to Laramie.

  “When the locksmith pops the safe open,” she said, “Mischa’s going to take a look at what’s inside. Unless he finds something that puts us out of business, we’re going to do what we’re being paid to do: work. The cattle still need to be looked after, the fence still needs to be mended, the hole in the barn roof isn’t getting any smaller, and the bunkhouse isn’t going to paint itself. So let’s fuel up and keep doing what we’re doing until someone tells us to stop.”

  “What will we do for transportation?” Vladimir asked. “Yevgeny left the ATV, but it is not allowed to be driven on main roads.”

  “Like I keep telling ya,” Shorty said. “Nothing beats a good horse.”

  “The horses will get us around the ranch,” Laramie said, “but they’re not practical for hauling loads back and forth. Especially heavy ones. We can rent a truck until Duke gives us the okay to buy something new.”

  “You heard her, boys.” Shorty speared two sausages and three pancakes. “Let’s dig in so we can get at it. I want to get the fence surrounding the back forty patched up by the end of the day.”

  Now that they had a goal to achieve, the men’s spirits lifted. Following Shorty’s example, they filled their plates and attacked their food with gusto. Some topped their sirniki with jam, some with sour cream. Obviously in a better mood than he’d been in a few minutes before, Fyodor opted for both.

  Fyodor had ceded his normal seat at the table so Mischa could sit next to Anastasia. While Fyodor chatted animatedly with Ivan and Vladimir about who would be the first to drive the new truck, Mischa leaned toward her. “You were right about her,” he said softly. “She makes me want to do anything I can to please her, too.”

  “Back off,” she replied with a smile as Elena rose to answer the knock on the front door. “I saw her first.”

  “That’s okay. She isn’t my type anyway.” He paused as he reached for his coffee. “But he certainly is.”

  Anastasia followed his line of sight. Elena and a tall bearded man who looked like a dark-haired version of the movie star who played Thor were heading up the stairs. If he had a hammer clutched in his hands instead of a grease-stained tool bag, the image would have been complete.

  “If that’s the locksmith,” Mischa said, “he can crack my safe any time.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin and pushed his chair away from the table. “I think I’ll go see if Elena needs help supervising.”

  “So I don’t have to worry about you being bored today?”

  “Not a chance. I think I like it here,” he said as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

  Anastasia knew the feeling.

  After breakfast, Anastasia followed Laramie to the feed storage bin. Laramie wanted to make sure Yevgeny hadn’t sabotaged the food and water supplies before he slipped away in the middle of the night.

  “I know I’m probably being paranoid,” Laramie said, “but better safe
than sorry.” She shined a flashlight around the base of the overhead bin. “No fresh footprints or ATV tracks. That’s a good sign.”

  Anastasia tried to see what Laramie was seeing, but she couldn’t differentiate one set of tracks from another. They all just looked like shoe prints to her.

  Laramie pulled a lever and allowed some of the feed to pool in the palm of her hand. She looked at it from several angles, then brought it to her nose and took a tentative sniff.

  “Is okay?” Anastasia asked.

  Laramie put some of the feed in her mouth, allowed it to rest there for a few minutes, then spit it out. “Yes, it’s okay. Andrei’s taking a peek at the dugouts and stock tanks. Let’s check the water storage tank.”

  Anastasia had no idea what some of those things were. While Laramie and Shorty conducted their walking tour of the ranch a few days ago, she had heard one of them say the storage tank was large enough to hold a seven-day supply of water.

  Laramie drank some of the water in the main storage unit. Satisfied it hadn’t been tampered with, she headed toward the pasture. As the rising sun changed the sky from black to dark gray, they spotted Andrei kneeling in front of one of the many man-made watering holes dotting the property. He and nearly a dozen cattle were drinking greedily from its depths. Anastasia pointed toward them.

  “That is dugout?”

  “Yes,” Laramie said. “Beef cattle like to drink three to five times a day, and grazing can often take them far from home. Some have to walk long distances to get water. Dugouts are constructed so the cattle don’t have to cut down on grazing time or expend too much energy looking for something to drink.”

  In the field, Andrei clasped his hands together and lifted them over his head in a gesture of triumph.

  Laramie took a deep breath and slowly released it. “That makes me feel better.”

  “I am glad. Did you really think Yevgeny would do something to hurt cows?”

  “I wouldn’t have put it past him. Disgruntled employees have been known to pull a whole host of stunts before they make their way out the door, especially when they have to head that way against their will.”

  “I do not think Yevgeny cared about cows. Only money that could be made from them.”

  “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

  Laramie leaned against one of the new fence posts. Anastasia stood next to her. She enjoyed the comfortable silence for a few minutes before she said, “I waited for you last night, but you did not come. You no longer like poetry?”

  “Spending time with you was on my mind, but Elena seemed to have the same idea. Did you two patch things up?”

  “She apologized for things she said yesterday and hopes we can go back to being friends. She asked if we could start over. I agreed to try.”

  “That’s good. I can see how much her friendship means to you. Shorty’s kinda sweet on her. Do you know if she feels the same way about him?”

  “She says he is excellent dancer.”

  Laramie grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell him she said so.”

  “I did not know you could sing so well.”

  Before Laramie turned away, Anastasia saw her cheeks redden at the compliment.

  “I’m not ready to try out for one of those talent shows you see on TV, but I hold my own.”

  “Will you sing again tonight?”

  “Oh, no. You’ve already heard the extent of my repertoire. I don’t want to go to the well too often.”

  “I cannot speak for everyone else, but I would like another taste.”

  When Laramie turned to face her, her eyes glowed like the white-hot embers beneath a roaring fire.

  “And I would like a taste of you.”

  Anastasia tried, but she couldn’t look away.

  Come see me tonight, she wanted to say. Then we can give each other what we both want.

  Her phone chimed before she could get the words out.

  “Is that Mischa?” Laramie asked as Anastasia read the text printed on the phone’s display.

  “Yes. Locksmith has drilled through safe.”

  “Are the laptop and ledgers still there? Has Mischa found something?”

  “Yes, and he says news is not good.”

  “I didn’t think it would be.” Laramie pressed her lips into a tight, thin line before she pushed herself away from the fence. “Well, let’s go see what he’s discovered. Standing here won’t make it any better.”

  But leaving, Anastasia knew, was guaranteed to make everything worse.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Laramie’s feet felt leaden as she climbed the stairs to the second floor of the main house. A refreshing breeze hit her in the face when she entered what had once been Yevgeny’s office. Mischa had opened the windows, most likely to alleviate the smell of the unfiltered cigarettes Yevgeny favored. The heavy glass ashtray overflowing with crumpled cigarette butts had been emptied, but the odor lingered, competing with the aroma of scorched metal. The door of the floor safe was open, a gaping hole where the lock used to be. The lock’s mangled remains rested on one of the safe’s empty shelves.

  Mischa was sitting behind the oversized desk. Two rectangular leather-bound ledgers lay open in front of him. Off to his left, Yevgeny’s laptop was powered on, the password screen displayed on the monitor. Another laptop sat to his right. He compared the entries in the two ledgers, then made an entry in the spreadsheet displayed on the second laptop.

  “What did you find?” Laramie asked, taking a seat in front of the desk.

  Mischa saved the spreadsheet he was working on and turned the ledgers around so she could get a better look at them. She could see the differing dollar values, but the corresponding entries were written in Cyrillic so she couldn’t tell what the numbers meant.

  “Sorry, but you’re going to have to give me a hint about what I’m looking at.”

  “Of course. Is okay if I speak Russian? I do not wish to get anything wrong.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Anastasia sat next to her and began to translate what Mischa was saying.

  “Problem began six months ago. Yevgeny began managing accounts after Maria left. First month of entries are similar to previous records. After that, Yevgeny began keeping two sets of records. Entries in first ledger appear to be legitimate. Entries in second ledger do not. Amount of expenses in second ledger is higher, and there is additional payee not listed in first ledger. Amounts that company received are small so individual entries would not have caused concern. Over time, small amounts add up to much larger one.”

  Mischa tapped his finger on a set of entries in the second ledger.

  “If you look at this date,” Anastasia said, leaning closer, “you will see line item for feed is listed for less than what is listed in first ledger. Difference is listed as being paid to company that does not exist. Mischa searched internet but could not find address or name of owners.”

  “That’s because it’s most likely a shell corporation Yevgeny set up so he could siphon funds,” Laramie said.

  “What is shell corporation?” Anastasia asked.

  Laramie thought back to some of the business classes she had taken while she was in college. “A shell corporation is a company that exists in name only. It has no physical address, no employees, no assets, and no business operations. Not all of them are illegal, but most are used to prevent law enforcement from knowing who truly owns and benefits from them. Money launderers open them all the time so they can hide some of their ill-gotten gains.”

  “Da,” Mischa said, nodding.

  He continued in Russian and Anastasia picked up the thread.

  “He thinks Yevgeny doctored invoices and receipts to make numbers in second ledger match new calculations. Original forms have been shredded and copies are stored on laptop. He has called Sergei’s office and spoken with internet technology department. They have program that allows them to determine password someone has assigned to computer. They are running program now.”

&
nbsp; “How long will it take for them to come up with the password?” Laramie asked.

  “Person he spoke to told him it could take from as little as few minutes to as long as few days. Perhaps weeks. Depends on complexity of password.”

  “So close and yet so far. Can he at least tell how much money Yevgeny has managed to divert?”

  After Anastasia relayed the question, Mischa turned the second laptop around so Laramie could see the screen.

  “He says he has to look through another month of entries, but here is what he has found so far.”

  Anastasia looked at the screen. Even in rubles, the figure she saw listed at the bottom of the spreadsheet was astounding.

  “He has informed Sergei of discoveries and will report to him with final results. Sergei has contacted bank to block Yevgeny’s access to all accounts related to ranch. Workers will still be paid. Money will be sent from main office until new foreman is hired. Sergei has approved purchase of new van as well as truck for ranch. He will wire money to automobile dealer when vehicles are selected. Van has been reported stolen and claim will be sent to insurance company. He thanks you for calling attention to this matter and would like to know what you wish from him in return.”

  “He doesn’t have to thank me. Mischa’s the one who did all the work.”

  “I assumed you would say that so I made request on your behalf.”

  Laramie tried not to show her irritation. Translating for her was one thing. Putting words in her mouth was something else.

  “What did you ask for?”

  “Sergei plans to visit on family day so I told Mischa to ask him to stop by Drezna and bring Elena’s family with him.”

  Laramie felt silly for assuming Anastasia would make some sort of ridiculous request on her behalf. In fact, she couldn’t think of a better way to take advantage of Duke’s generosity.

  “How did you know I wouldn’t ask for something for myself?”

  “Because, unlike me, you are not selfish person,” Anastasia said with a smile. “I always see you place own desires second to others’. Main reason you are here is to help brother, not yourself. I knew you wanted to make sure Elena did not feel left out on family day. This way, you can do it and let someone else take credit.”