Wolf's Vendetta

by Craig MacIntosh

  “The lounge perhaps?” said Wolf.

  He and Colter ushered her to an isolated table and ordered three coffees.

  When they had been served, Wolf said, “So…Katrina…if that’s your real name…”

  Taken aback, the woman bristled, “It is, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “After last night one has to be careful, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I understand. Of course, you must be careful.”

  “The lighting in the club was not the best,” said Wolf. “Forgive us for confusing you with your sister. You could easily pass for her.”

  She sipped her coffee, looking over the cup’s rim at Wolf.

  “What happened to Kuzoch?” he said. “And how are you and your sister connected to him?”

  “Perhaps we should discuss this in safer place, yes?”

  “This suits us fine, but what would you suggest?”

  “Did not my sister suggest Donskoy Monastery to you?”

  “Yes, she mentioned it,” said Colter. “But why there?”

  “Because no one would think it odd that you would want to see this place. Even in our winter the grounds are beautiful. We can talk there without being overheard. I have a car outside. Will you come? It is important.”

  Wolf glanced at Colter, then their visitor. “To be frank, Katrina, you must appreciate our situation. As Americans we are viewed with some suspicion to begin with. What if the same men who took Semyon Arkadyevich decide to come after Dan and me? We would be in danger. Do you agree?”

  “Of course. I understand. But you see, Yana is in difficult situation. It was arranged for her to meet you last night, yes? But when she saw Semyon taken away she had to warn you at no small risk to herself.”

  “Don’t think we’re ungrateful,” said Colter. “But my friend has a point.”

  “Yes, but you are her only hope, sirs. Please, don’t refuse, I beg you.”

  Flashing a disarming smile, Wolf said, “I have always been a sucker for a beautiful woman asking for help, Katrina. As a result, I have often found myself in trouble. My companion is only looking out for my best interests.”

  Colter weighed in. “What do you want with us? What is so important that we cannot talk here? Why do we have to go halfway across the city?”

  “Is for my sister. She is afraid to come to you. She is in hiding. She risks her life to warn you. Don’t let her die at the hand of others before her time.”

  Wolf rose from the table, his hand on Colter’s shoulder. “Will you excuse us, Katrina? I wish to talk to my friend in private.”

  “Yes, of course. I see. Please, consider my request.”

  “We will,” said Wolf. “In the meantime, perhaps you should spread out a map and your materials to make it look as if we are discussing a tour.”

  “Excellent idea. Of course, I will do as you ask.” In their absence, she set aside the cups and did as Wolf suggested. A server stopped at the table, refilled the cups, and glanced at the maps approvingly before moving on.

  In the lobby, speaking in low tones, Wolf and Colter debated the wisdom of accompanying their guest.

  “This could be a classic honey trap, Wolfman. You thought of that?”

  “You read my mind. Still, I’m curious about what happened to your friend Kozuch. And I’d love to see this Yana for myself. She saved my ass…and yours. We owe her, man.”

  Colter was skeptical. “You ARE a sucker for a beautiful girl. You don’t know for certain that she saved your ass. It may have been set up to look like that. Hell, Wolfman, even those Russki orcs picking up Kozuch may have been an act for all we know. I say we bail on this one. I’m thinking we’re too good a target for the bad guys to pass up.”

  “Rule of thumb, Dawg. Bad ideas are always better when executed with a friend. I know you’re that kind of guy. And let’s face it…in Russia, friends are few and far between. Look, we could split up when we get to the monastery. You hang back, shadow us just in case it hits the fan.”

  “And come to your rescue with what? My shoe? We’d be in a bad place, surrounded by bad guys, about to make a bad decision. I vote we skip it.”

  “I’m going, regardless.”

  “Damn. You don’t give a guy much choice do you? Okay, but don’t think I didn’t warn you if we step in it.”

  Throwing an arm around Colter, Wolf smiled. “I like the way you said ‘we.’ Let’s go tell our Girl Scout we’re good to go.”

  Chapter 7

  Donskoy Monastery

  Circling the monastery’s crenellated brick wall with its twelve towers, Katrina parked in a car lot across the street from the main entrance. Wolf and Katrina headed for the gate, discreetly shadowed by Colter thirty meters behind. Despite his uneasiness, Wolf was captivated by the ornate architecture.

  The entrance, a massive block of red brick trimmed in white and pierced by a central arch, was topped by a spire of columned sections of baroque masonry dating to 1713. Faced with clocks and an icon, and capped by a bell tower, the building had once been used as a church. The pair entered the arched doorway with its yellow Cyrillic lettering. They passed between heavy doors sheathed with copper plates and emerged on a broad walkway flanked by piles of shoveled snow. Before them was Donskoy’s “new” cathedral, built in the late 1600s. Crowned with five black onion-shaped domes, the brick church, its windows trimmed in white, displayed an icon of Mary and the Christ child high above the front steps. Two bundled babushka faithful, their eyes on the ground, shuffled along the shoveled path. An Orthodox priest floated past in flowing black robes and unkempt graying beard. Bells called to each other across the wooded grounds.

  Partially hidden by a screen of skeletal trees, more domes belonging to older churches showed, their bell towers capped with snow. “Did you know this place dates to 1591?” asked Katrina. “The great Boris Godunov himself laid the foundation stone of the cathedral. This monastery was built and fortified to protect the southern approach to Moscow. It guarded a road to the Crimea.”

  “How ironic,” muttered Wolf.

  “How do you mean ironic?”

  He smiled. “The Crimea. It’s okay, don’t mind me.” Waving his hand at the grounds, he said, “The history of this place is impressive, Katrina. I read that the walls did not keep out the French in 1812, however. They trashed the place.”

  “Trashed?”

  Fluttering his hands, he said, “You know, ruin. Make a mess.”

  “Oh, yes, I understand.”

  Wolf and Katrina passed a trio of old people in heavy dark coats, their gloved hands clasped behind stooped backs. Wolf avoided eye contact as if studying church silhouettes beyond the naked trees.

  Head bowed, he asked, “Is your sister here?”

  “She is here. Among the graves.”

  “Not a good sign in my book.”

  “But it is a quiet place.”

  “No doubt.”

  “She will find us. We have only to visit the tombs. You will find the gravestones interesting, I think.”

  Glancing behind him, Wolf caught Colter lingering at the base of a tall stone crucifix, his eyes studying Christ’s serene face. Reassured, Wolf resumed his slow pace at Katrina’s side.

  She said, “Your friend is not agreeable to this, is he?”

  “No. And I can’t say I blame him. We are unarmed, uncomfortable, and unprepared for what might happen next.” Halting to gaze at a headstone, Wolf turned to Katrina. “And what does happen next?”

  “You must ask my sister. She is behind you to your left. I will leave you alone with her. I shall be in that small chapel at the end of the walkway. Send your friend Commander Colter to me. You must tell Yana to come to me when you are finished with the business, yes?”

  Chapter 8

  Wolf, pretending to study a kneeling stone angel, spotted Yana near a granite marker embedded with a small glassed photo of the deceased.

  Yana, smiling conspiratorially and dressed identically to Katrina, drifted toward him, hands
in her long coat’s pockets. Wolf suppressed his surprise. Had he not seen Katrina going up the steps of a domed chapel beyond the graves, he would have taken Yana for her twin.

  The statuesque blonde flashed a dazzling, reassuring smile and linked arms with Wolf. She nodded at a small gazebo among the graves.

  “Did you know Stalin profaned these consecrated grounds by burying victims of his purges here? The killing went on a long time and not just here.”

  “I’ve studied that era. Not a happy time for your people.”

  “We have a long history of unhappiness. Let’s talk, you and I, yes?”

  Wolf, hearing footsteps, looked over his shoulder to find Colter walking their way. Passing, he whispered, “So far, so good, Wolfman. Wrap it up as quickly as possible before I have to use my shoe.”

  Wolf said, “Katrina’s waiting for you in the chapel.” Colter continued, following Katrina’s footsteps toward the domed building.

  Yana said, “What does he mean about the shoe?”

  “Just his sense of humor. It’s nothing.” Wolf resumed strolling, content to have this striking Russian woman on his arm.

  “Okay, why the mysterious arrangements?” he said. “Why the cloak-and-dagger about meeting here? What’s your story?”

  “Story?”

  “Yes. Why are we here? What is so important, Yana?”

  She disarmed him. “Do you know my name means ‘God is gracious’?”

  Enchanted, Wolf said, “Well, I thought it meant ‘God has good taste.’”

  “You are not serious enough, Commander.”

  When they reached the gazebo, Wolf swept snow from the stone bench and sat next to her, grinning. “Did you know my name means ‘predator’ or ‘carnivore’?”

  “You mock me, sir.”

  “Yes, and I apologize,” Wolf said. “But tell me, what’s an absolutely gorgeous woman like you doing in a place like this?”

  “Is this a serious question?”

  “Sort of. It’s an American saying, meaning, ‘What are you doing here?’”

  Yana withdrew an four-by-six inch black leather book from her coat and handed it to Wolf. “I want you to do something for me. You must take this back to America for me, please. You must give it to a journalist to read. Please, it is important. It is a valuable record. It has cost seven lives already. I pray that you will not become the next one to die because of this book.”

  “Appreciate the sentiment, lady.”

  Wolf scanned the contents. Filled with tidy Cyrillic notes in a crisp hand, each page was followed by sets of dated figures in three columns on opposite pages.

  “I don’t read much Russian, Yana. I can speak some, but maybe I’m not your man for this.”

  She leaned close, pleading, her hand over his. “You must take this with you and see it published. Or perhaps you must give it to your friends in the government or police.”

  “Did Kozuch have something to do with this?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Yes. He was given this book by someone who worked for his cousin. That messenger was the sixth person to die. Semyon Arkadyevich, my uncle, was certainly the seventh.”

  “Have you word of his death?”

  “He was dead the moment those devils came for him. I tell you this, Semyon Arkadyevich was no saint. He catered not only cakes but also drugs from Tajikistan. The drugs come there across the border from Afghanistan. So much money to be had. So little resistance to the lure. My uncle was too weak to resist his cousin and as a result, was trapped.”

  “Semyon’s cousin, the guy who owns the Zorro club? Did he betray Colter’s old friend?”

  “Yes. It was Gregor who betrayed my uncle. He is avtorityet.”

  “I know the word. In America we call such a man a ‘capo’ for the mob.”

  “Of course. Yes. They are all russkaya mafiya. The devil’s men, doing the devil’s work; caring only for themselves and their criminal families.”

  “How very American, Yana.” Wolf flipped through the pages.

  She said, “When our country collapsed, the gates of hell were opened.”

  “Some would say that began in 1917 with your revolution.”

  “Yes, I understand what you are saying. I do not disagree, Commander Wolf. But perhaps this book can help in some small way with the way things are now.”

  Wolf balanced the book on his knee. “A very small strike, if that. The russkaya mafiya is like a serpent with many heads.” He made a chopping motion. “You cut off one head, two or three grow in its place.”

  “You will see in this book that some of the names do business with the same serpents in America. You have them in your own house.”

  “Right. East coast and west. We know of these people, Yana.”

  She gripped his arm tighter. “Will you take this with you for me?”

  Wolf said, “My friend can read Russian better than me. I will show this to him and see what he thinks. If he believes it is true…what you say…then I will do what I can to see this gets into the right hands. Good enough?”

  Yana buried her head against his shoulder. “You believe me.”

  “I’ll need Commander Colter’s help in this decision.”

  Yana covered her face with her hands. Wolf, not used to comforting crying women, patted her gently on the back, awkwardly trying to show concern. She took Wolf’s chin in hand, drawing him to her, and kissed him. He did not pull away.

  With the back of her hand, she wiped her tears away. “I am most grateful, Commander. Most grateful.”

  “I think we can drop the commander title, Yana. Tom will do.”

  Between sobs, she kissed him again. “Tom, yes. I am grateful.”

  He slipped the book inside his parka and rose from the bench with her, his arm around her shoulders. “I have to go back to the city.”

  “Tomorrow you must leave?”

  “Afraid so. I’m off to another city. One with no beautiful Russian women such as you, I’m sure.”

  “I am also grateful for you saying these things to me…Tom.”

  They stood in the gazebo, Wolf holding her hands. “A woman like you, working in a club like the Zorro, must have a legion of men knocking on your door to bring you flowers and compliments, Yana.”

  “I don’t work at the club,” she said, blushing. “I only pretended to be one of the staff. It was my uncle’s idea.”

  “But, the other night—”

  “He was to introduce me to you. But his enemies arrived before he had the chance. I only had time enough to warn you before they came back for you.”

  “Did Commander Colter know this?”

  “I don’t think so. My uncle said nothing about that.”

  “But they knew each other.”

  “A long time ago, yes.”

  “This is a bit confusing, Yana.”

  “I understand. But it was all arranged for the book.” She raised both his hands, kissing them. “Please believe me. If you change your mind about helping me, I am lost.”

  “I promised you I’d help.”

  “And I am grateful. Perhaps we can have time together before you go.”

  Wolf glanced about him. “It might be dangerous for you. The men who took your uncle will surely be looking for the Americans who were seen with him. Even now they could be searching for us…or you.”

  “I am willing to take such a chance. I have a small flat near the metro, Tom. I will make a small meal if you agree.” Her eyes held promise. “And then later…”

  Spotting Colter coming their way, Wolf whispered, “Maybe. Let me see what I can arrange with my friend.”

  “I know he would agree to do this for you.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “I would do the same were he in my place. But what about your sister?”

  She flashed a coy smile. “She is to care for Mother. Katrina and I trade each week so that one of us can stay with her. She is sick. It keeps our sanity to have time to ourselves, you know. We could have the evening together.
”

  Passing them, Colter muttered, “Time to move, Wolfman. Send Yana to the chapel to trade places with Katrina.”

  After a quick glance to check if they were being watched, Wolf kissed Yana again. “Until tonight.”

  “I will have the car. I know your hotel.”

  “Yes. Come by at six this evening. Wait at the end of the street.”

  She blew him a kiss. “I come at five. That will give us more time.”

  Wolf turned. “Five it is. Until then, Yana.”

  He watched her skip up the steps of the chapel, give a last look, and then go inside. Five seconds passed. Katrina exited to join him in the necropolis. She walked slowly, making a show of pointing out various outbuildings of the monastery to Wolf. She recited more history. He dawdled, playing the perfect tourist, taking pictures of domes, walls, towers, and the soaring gate.

  A light snow began. Treetops coated with ice rattled in the wind. Bells rang, the deep sonorous notes trembling in the cold air. Katrina and Wolf retraced their steps through the arch, emerging to a wet street. They got in her car, and while it warmed, Colter crossed the lot and slipped in the backseat.

  “Everything on the up and up?”

  “I think we’re good, Dawg.”

  Colter rubbed the fogged window. “Drive the speed limit, Katrina. Get us back with no problems.”

  Snow cloaked the monastery’s deserted towers and silent walls. Behind them, trees screened onion domes in the fading light. They rounded a corner and followed a lumbering blue streetcar filled to capacity.

  Katrina spoke without looking at Wolf. “So, you and Yana are to have dinner together, eh?”

  From the backseat, Colter thundered, “Dinner! No one said anything about dinner to me, Wolfman. Am I invited?”

  “How’s your Russian?”

  “My Russian’s fine. What’s that got to do with dinner?”

  “You’ve got an assignment. You can call room service.”

  “The hell with that.” Colter leaned over the front seat and tapped Katrina’s shoulder. “Dearest, what are you doing for dinner?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then back to the road. “I’m sorry, sir. I have to take care of my mother tonight.”