by A. E. King
“Business or revenge?” His rotten breath burns my nose as he kisses my neck. “There are much better ways to pay them back.” He rubs his bony hand up my leg, and I grab ahold of it, digging my nails into his skin.
“The thirtieth has been compromised, so either we talk or you’ll pay for it,” I whisper sharply in his ear. “Now give me your room key and meet me there. Leave five minutes after I do, and block the cameras in the halls. If my father knows I’ve betrayed him, both of us will be dead.”
I release his hand, and he gives me a sinister, yellow-toothed grin. “Eight forty-two.” He hands me the card and whispers, “And your lipstick has faded. You should take a trip to the ladies’ room to reapply.”
“Is five minutes long enough?” I ask. He nods.
“Enjoy your night.” I stand from the table and leave. More than one set of eyes are on me, including, to my dismay, those of Andrei Stepanovich. I look up at him through my lashes, smile, and nod. His eyes narrow. He will never believe I have a romantic interest in Kostya. One problem at a time, I tell myself.
Chapter 26
I wait for five minutes in the ladies’ room before making my way through the halls to the elevator and up to the eighth floor.
I nod to my security as they remain behind when I enter the elevator. I can tell they disapprove, but they follow Dimitri’s orders. I just pray I don’t run into anyone. Fortunately, it’s late enough that the halls are deserted.
I reach room 824, slide the key into the reader, and nearly scream when I see Kostya sitting on the sofa.
“You were supposed to wait so it didn’t look like we left together,” I snap at him.
“You didn’t think I would trust you alone in my room, did you? For all I know, you’re here to poison me or set up surveillance.”
I look around the room, it’s a mess. He has left dirty clothes, half-eaten food, and drug paraphernalia strewn about. I can’t help but notice the sinister-looking knife on the side table. It’s no wonder Mariana was so quick to switch arms tonight. I push that thought to the back of my mind, eager to make this as fast as possible.
“I heard about your little escape in Moscow. Pity I wasn’t there to find you.” He leers at me.
“Pity I was caught. Because now they know the date and location of your drop.” I throw in the lie about the location, as though I had it all along.
A cloud of rage settles onto his features, and he looks even more menacing than usual. “I told the old fool you couldn’t be trusted.”
“If I couldn’t be trusted, why would I be here?” I ask him as though he’s a stupid child.
He leaps out of his chair, his hands balled into fists. I’m completely in over my head.
I flinch and raise my hands. “They beat me until I told them,” I cry out to calm him down.
He lifts the slit in my dress, revealing the deep purple and green across my hip.
“There had better be more damage than that if you sold us out,” he growls.
I slide down my top, revealing my bruised shoulder and ribcage, cupping my breast to try to preserve my decency. Shame burns in my cheeks.
He moans in admiration, and I can’t tell if it’s the bruises or the breast that inspire him the most. He reaches out to touch me, and I step back, pulling my clothing back in place.
“If you even think about touching me, I’ll give you nothing. Then you’ll have no way to recoup your losses.” I fold my arms. “We don’t have much time. When Dimitri realizes we’re gone, he’ll track us down. If he finds you on top of me, he’ll beat the life out of you.”
He sits back down, and my heart rate slows by a measure.
“Why are you really here?” he asks. “Things must be bad if you’re seeking me out.” He touches himself only once, but something in his eyes is deeply troubling. I have to get out of here as quickly as possible.
I take a deep breath to clear my mind. I have to time this perfectly. How long will it take Dimitri to extricate himself from Mariana? How long before Kostya makes his move on me? I glance toward the knife. He smiles when my eyes lock on it.
I take a deep breath and answer. “I’m here because to live with wolves, you have to howl like a wolf. I never asked to be a part of this dirty world. But they’re determined to drag me into it, and I will play my way.” I reach into my dress and slide out the microphone. I hold it up so he can see it, and then I turn it off.
In an instant, he’s up. He grabs the wire from me, smashes it under his foot, and pushes me to his chair.
“You suka,” he curses at me. He grabs his knife and presses it to my breast.
“I showed you the wire because we’re on the same side, you fool,” I tell him as bravely as I can. “Now that the wire is dead. Dimitri will be here momentarily. So listen carefully.”
He doesn’t move, and I can feel the steel of his blade against my skin. “I’m listening.” His reeking breath makes me want to vomit.
“My father doesn’t know the location. I was supposed to get it from you. Then he was going to make sure you had an accident. If you move the date and location, I can keep eyes away on the fifteenth. Dimitri and I will be in Omsk on our pre-wedding tour. Stay in Troisk and take the river down to a village called Bobrovka. There are no businesses in the area and very few people. Make it look like a fishing trip. People will travel to attend our rally, leaving you an empty border.” I rush through the details and hope he’s paying attention.
“And why would I trust you?” He snarls his putrid breath on me.
“Because we’re both tired of old men calling the shots,” I say, my heart racing beneath his knife.
“And you want me to lead with you?” He laughs.
“Of course not, you fool. I want to lead the country. Do whatever the hell you want with the Organizatsaya as long as it’s not at the expense of my citizens.”
“So you do plan to interfere.” He presses the blade tighter, and I fight not to cry out as it digs through my skin.
“Listen to me, you durok,” I yell. “I’m offering you the chance to sell as many drugs, children, and weapons as you want. Just not on my streets. You’re limiting your own growth by making Novaya Russiya, your supply chain. Think of what you could earn if you took your operation outside of our borders.” He looks unconvinced. I’m disgusted with myself for even making the suggestion. But I push forward. “Make the rest of the world your playground. Let me make this nation strong again. And I will give you amnesty. I’ll create an army that can keep you safe from retaliation abroad.”
He pauses as he thinks through my offer. “And what about Dimitri?” he asks. “I doubt he will step out of the Organizatsaya so willingly.”
I swallow down the hate I feel toward myself for saying what comes next. “Once my father is dead, there will be no one left to protect Dimitri.”
He smiles, and my skin crawls as I offer up the man I love on my platter of manipulation. Kostya pulls the blade away from me. There’s a red stain where my blood seeped into the shimmery fabric of my dress.
“Tell Andrei Stepanovich about the change in venue and date,” I tell him, “but say nothing else. This stays between us, the future of Novaya Russiya. Our communications will be few and far between. But if there are any opportunities to dispose of the old guard before their time, I’ll be in touch.” I stand, and he moves toward me, wrapping his hand around my waist.
“You’re my favorite flavor combination. Beautiful, conniving, and power-hungry. I don’t think I can let you leave without a taste.”
I step closer and wrap my arms around him. He drops the knife as he greedily grabs at my breasts. I knee him in the groin, and he doubles over in pain.
I grab his knife. “If you ever try to ‘taste’ me again, I’ll cut out your tongue.” I throw the blade across the room. “Don’t forget. The night of the fifteenth. Take a fishing trip along the river from Troisk to Babrovka.”
I open the door, grateful to smell air that doesn’t reek of Kostya, and s
ee Dima running full speed toward me, his face twisted in pain and panic.
“No, no, no,” he moans and removes his handkerchief while fumbling with the fabric of my dress to expose and apply pressure to the wound.
“It’s not deep,” I reassure him and place my hand over his, my heart swelling at his tenderness and care. “I’m fine.”
Dima closes his eyes and releases the breath he had been holding. When he opens his eyes, they’re the black pits of hell. He pushes past me and punches Kostya three times in the face, leaving his hand covered in blood and Kostya moaning on the floor of his suite.
Dima walks past me wordlessly and moves toward the elevator.
I hurry to catch up. He looks like he’s on the edge of breaking down. I reach out and touch his sleeve. “We’ll leave town on the first train out.” He deadpans.
I look down at his bloody hands and see them shaking.
Chapter 27: Nizhny Novgorod, Новая Россия
The train rocks back and forth as I survey the lonely, cramped room with suitcases hastily stacked on the floor. Dima is helping Zhenya get situated in her compartment next door.
Our compartment has two benches on either side that transform into beds. A metal table hangs down from the wall, and some faded curtains frame the window. Outside, everything is inky. We caught the first train out in the dark hours of the morning. Neither of us slept last night. Dimitri spent the time sitting in front of the door with his gun. I spent the time worrying about Dima.
I lift the table and secure it to the wall. Then I lower one of the benches and unfold the pile of sheets to start making the bed. I’m almost finished with the first bed when Dima comes in.
“Ask the attendants to do that.” His scowl is still pronounced, and I want to reach up and soothe the crease in his forehead.
“I don’t mind,” I say quietly. He scoots carefully past me, trying to touch me as little as possible, and lowers the other bench. I pass him one end of the sheet, and together we make the bed.
“It’s a seven-hour train ride to Nizhny, Novgorod. If we pull the blinds, we can sleep for a few hours,” he says quietly.
I nod and open my suitcase, wanting to change into my pajamas. I turn to face the wall and awkwardly lift my shirt over my head. Then I remove my bra and slide my nightgown over my head. I peek behind me and see that Dima is also undressing. I shimmy out of my pants, replace the used clothes into my suitcase, close the zipper, and then lift the suitcase up onto the luggage rack above. Dimitri steps behind me, hoisting the bag for me. For a moment, his body presses against mine, and I lean into him, longing to feel his arms around me.
“I have a meeting when we arrive.” He doesn’t move. “You have an appointment scheduled at one of the premier salons in town.”
It’s the first time in days he doesn’t sound angry. So I nod as though we haven’t been over this information three times.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“I never wanted any of this for you.” His voice drips with regret, and then I feel him withdraw. When I turn to look at him. he’s climbing into bed.
“Good night, Dima,” I say before climbing under my covers. I wonder what would happen if I climbed into his.
We step off the train in Nizhny Novgorod, just after lunchtime. The sun is bright in the sky. I haven’t been to this city of a million people in a couple of years. I doubt the citizens have seen much care from my father.
A good-sized crowd has gathered, mostly nenoozhny brown, speckled with the occasional grey and charcoal. Security doesn’t seem as hostile as the guards in St. Petersburg and Moscow. I smile and wave, and the shabby crowd cheers. Dima stands behind me, and I slide my hand into his and walk toward the people.
“Dobre dyen,” I say over and over again as I smile and nod at our citizens. A little girl, maybe four years old, reaches out her arms to me. “Mozhna?” I ask her mother. I reach down and hug the little girl. I hear cameras snapping from all different directions. I pick her up and pull Dima into our shot.
“What’s your name?” Dima asks her gently.
“Ksenia,” she answers.
“That’s a beautiful name,” I tell her. “I bet you’re a very good girl for your mama. You’re very smart.” Her face beams, and she starts listing every number she knows, although many of them are out of order. The crowd laughs, and even Dima smiles. He slides his hand onto my back. “We’ve got to go, darling,” he says. And my heart deflates just a bit. We’ve reverted back to pet names for the cameras. Something about seeing him with the little girl tugs at my heart: I’ve realized that I fear losing Dima for good more than I fear him rejecting me. I pass the girl back to her mother and announce to the crowd, “We’re looking forward to meeting many more of you during our tour.”
Dima and I get into a car that will deliver us to our respective destinations. Zhenya heads straight to the hotel in a separate vehicle to make sure everything is ready for our arrival later. We have been watched night and day with no time to discuss Dima’s plans to get me to the Myatezhniki. I need him to know how much I love him when we say goodbye. I don’t want to waste any days together.
I slide next to Dima and take his hand, knowing he can’t refuse me without being caught on camera. “Wasn’t that little girl beautiful?” I smile at him and rest my head against his shoulder. He’s not as stiff, but he’s far from welcoming.
The entire salon has been closed down for me, and every employee stands lined in the lobby as I enter. The owner is in a hurry to please me. But I stop and greet each of the employees, asking their names. They’re all dressed in respectable grey uniforms, but their thin frames tell a story of hunger. They clearly don’t earn enough to feed their families. Most of them are young, but an older woman stands out, catching my attention. In her forties or maybe fifties, she’s beautiful and elegant. Her long, honey-brown hair is pushed behind her ears. An emerald-green necklace stands out against the sea of grey. “What a beautiful necklace,” I tell her.
“Thank you, Gospozha.” She nods.
I feel like I’ve seen this necklace before, but I can’t place where. It’s a mini emerald Fabergé egg with gold crisscrossing over the smooth surface. It’s so out of place here, much too expensive for a salon employee.
I walk to the next employee, but the necklace is still nagging me. I turn back to look again, and this time I realize where I saw it. The man at Meer Fkoosna, who was hurrying back to the window with something emerald green. I look at her, eyes wide and questioning, and she nods almost imperceptibly.
I continue speaking with each of the attendants, but I keep looking back toward the woman with the necklace.
The owner approaches me after I’ve greeted each team member. “We’ll pamper you today with a wash, blowout, pedicure, and manicure. Are there any other needs?”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to take up your entire day.” I consider asking for the older woman to perform the blowout, but I fear putting her in danger. If she’s Myatezhniki, I have to trust that she will position herself to get close to me.
My instincts pay off when the older woman extends her arm toward the washing station. “Gospozha, I will shampoo your hair today.”
I follow her back to the washing station while everyone else tries to find ways to make themselves busy. I’m asked about my preferences on scents, water temperature, and pressure levels for my scalp, hand, and foot massage. The employees are very anxious to make a good impression. I’m eager for them to give me enough space to ask the woman with the emerald necklace a simple question.
“How will the weather be today?” I ask her.
“Perfect. The birds will sing for you, Gospozha,” she says, and my heart skips a few beats.
She sits me down in the chair, places a towel around my neck, turns on the water, and guides my head gently back into the basin.
“Proceed with caution, Yulia. Your exploit in Moscow could have been bad for everyone,” she whispers just loud enough for me to hear but
no one else.
“But you sent the note,” I say, “I thought you wanted me to come.”
“We wanted to make contact. But sending a swarm of the enemy to our hive was not wise. We rely on subtlety. Every Myatezhnik must earn their spot. Even you.” She turns the water off and begins massaging shampoo through my scalp. She chats politely about my trip and how I’ve liked the city so far. I cannot wait for the water to turn back on. Finally, after the world’s longest scalp massage, she begins to rinse.
“How do I earn my spot?” I ask.
“You’ll have to betray your father and prove your loyalty to us.”
“I assure you that’s not a problem. Tell me how and I’ll do it right now.”
“Words are not sufficient. We want you to retrieve something we can’t get.” My heart sinks. If the Myatezhniki haven’t been able to get it, what makes them think I can? She must read the discouragement on my face.
“If anyone can accomplish this mission, it’s you. Find Sergei Mikhailovich. He knows the location of weapons the last government hid decades ago. We haven’t been able to get near him in years. Bring us a weapon, and you’re in. We need these weapons to turn the tide of this war. And Yulia, don’t give up. The Ghost wants you to succeed.”
“The Ghost?”
“Our leader. He’s been interested in you for a long time. He believes you will succeed.”
She turns off the water and wraps a towel around my head. Then she leans over me, allowing her hair to fall down around her shoulders. She fiddles with the clasp around her neck, removing the necklace. “It was an honor to serve you today, Gospozha.” She stands, places her hands over mine, and leaves me the emerald-and-gold Fabergé egg. I shove it into my pocket without looking. And then I am immediately overtaken by the rest of the team, who are eagerly efficient in their beautification efforts. I look to find the woman, but she has disappeared into the staff room.