by Rob Sinclair
The country, newly independent following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, had been going through a period of immense turmoil. The economy was in free-fall and rival factions vied for control of the country leading to various bloody coups and internal conflicts. Hardly the perfect environment for bringing up a young family.
Despite this, Georgia was the place – perhaps due to familiarity as much as anything else – that Anna thought of as home.
Although her father had amassed sufficient money for them to live securely during the preceding years, without his needing to work and travel as he had done during Anna’s earlier childhood, resources were running thin and it was becoming more and more difficult for him to turn down the offers for his specialist work. Plus, having been in one place for so long, he was becoming increasingly paranoid that the wolves from his past were closing in.
Anna had sensed for a number of weeks that something would have to give.
‘But I could come with you?’ she protested as her father led her by the hand up the tree-lined driveway on a snowy winter’s morning. The crooked branches on the leafless trees silhouetted against the moody sky made the entire scene sinister. With each step they took, Anna grew increasingly terrified of what lay beyond the walls of the crumbling blue-and-white-painted mansion, where her father was sending her to work as a domestic maid.
‘No, Anna,’ her father said, sternly but with warmth. ‘You need to stay here and go to school. You’re getting big now. Your education is important. And you can earn good money here while I’m gone. The Colonel will pay you to help the soldiers.’
Her father had explained that Kankava was a former colonel in the Soviet Army. A native Georgian who, following independence, had aligned himself with the Mkhedrioni paramilitary group who were vying for control of the country. Despite the Mkhedrioni succeeding in overthrowing the government in a violent and bloody coup d’état in 1992, further in-fighting led to their eventual outlawing in 1995. Kankava had taken that as his opportunity to retire and set up a small charitable foundation for wounded war veterans. He bought a once-grand eighteenth-century mansion, renovated it, and opened the doors to some forty veterans who shared the same sympathetic nationalist views as Kankava.
Anna had no interest in the veterans or their politics. She just wanted to be with her father. ‘But why can’t you stay too?’ Anna stopped walking. ‘You said you’d always look after me. Protect me.’
A tear escaped Anna’s eye. It began to roll down her cheek but stopped after a couple of seconds.
‘I can’t, Anna. It’s become too... dangerous.’
Her father didn’t elaborate and Anna didn’t probe. She knew her father’s business put him in a dangerous position, that he had many enemies, but he never talked about it in any detail. They had come to an unspoken understanding that she’d never ask and he’d never tell. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. Or something like that.
‘When will you be back?’ she asked.
‘As soon as I can.’
‘But what does that mean? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?’
‘It means as soon as I can.’
Anna didn’t push him. It really didn’t matter what she said in protest. He’d already made his decision. And it was final. She knew that.
They continued walking. Anna tried her best to hold back the tears that were welling.
When they reached the over-sized doors to the house – bare oak that was crumbling at the corners – her father reached out and rang the bell.
After a few seconds, the door creaked open. Beyond the fatigue-clad man who stood in the entrance, Anna caught sight of the wood-panelled walls and military paraphernalia that adorned the interior. The smell of the home that wafted out of the open door made her nose tingle and she cringed: furniture polish, boiled vegetables. Bleach to overpower urine and faeces, and whatever else. It smelled of... oldness.
Death and decay. That was all that lay within the walls of that house, Anna decided.
Anna looked at the man who had opened the door. One arm of his military fatigues hung clumsily by his side. An amputee. He was grey-haired. Young Anna had no idea how old he was. He could have been anything from fifty to ninety. To her he was simply old, that was all she knew. A thick beard covered his face reaching up close to his eyes, which were steel-grey. He stared down at Anna and the sides of his mouth turned upward as if in a knowing smile.
‘This must be Anna,’ he said, after shaking her father’s hand.
‘Yes. My precious Anna,’ her father said, ruffling her hair like she was still five years old. ‘You take good care of her for me.’
‘Oh, I will.’
‘Anna, this is Colonel Kankava. He’s in charge here. Anything you ever need, you ask him.’
‘Come on, Anna, let me show you around.’
The Colonel extended his hand. Anna looked at her father then back at the face of Kankava whom she already detested. But she did her best to bury her true feelings and took his hand. He led her inside. She turned to her father who was still standing on the step outside.
‘Angel, I’ve got to go now,’ he said.
‘No!’ Anna shook the Colonel off her, and moved back to her father but he held up his hand. ‘Please. I’ll be back soon. I promise.’
‘No. Don’t leave me here! You can’t!’
Her father said nothing. He hung his head. Tears cascaded down Anna’s face. She continued to protest but it made no difference. Kankava edged past her and gently shut the door.
Thus bringing to a close the life of Anna Abayev, the girl.
9
Some three months passed at the mansion known as Winter’s Retreat. Anna had celebrated her fourteenth birthday with Kankava, two other young maids in their early twenties, and a small birthday cake with a single candle that Anna made. She’d not once heard from her father. Kankava said he hadn’t either. In fact, he didn’t even know which country her father had since travelled to.
Three months. To Anna it felt like a lifetime. She’d already begun to wonder whether she would ever see him again.
Kankava allowed Anna to go to a local school three days a week. The other four days and every evening, she provided assistance in Winter’s Retreat; cleaning, cooking and tending to the veterans. That was the worst part. The men’s ages ranged from early twenties to well into their sixties. Some were amputees, some suffered various forms of paralysis, others were mere vegetables who barely resembled living and breathing beings.
Most of the men looked upon Anna with a sickly glint in their eyes, as they did upon the other maids: Viktoria and Maria. Anna would cringe and hold her nose, somehow keeping back the tears as she wiped the men’s arses, changed their catheters, bathed them.
Anna hated every minute of it, but she also hated herself for feeling so disgusted by her role. These men needed help. They were war heroes. They had fought for Georgia and for the lives of others. Yet she felt revulsion at having to assist them in a time of need. Shame on her.
Kankava had reminded Anna of the same on more than one occasion. Reminded her that it was her father’s wish that she perform these duties. And she didn’t want to disappoint her father, did she?
It wasn’t all bad, though. There was one patient whose company she had warmed to. Alex. In many ways, he reminded Anna of her father. He was in his early forties. He had a hard face, battle worn and scarred, but his eyes and his manner were kind. To Anna he looked like a movie star from a Hollywood action film: all brute and brawn.
Alex was paralysed from the neck down. His mind, on the other hand, was fully cognisant and he was truly engaging. And he was one of few men at Winter’s Retreat who didn’t look upon Anna like that.
‘It was your birthday?’ Alex asked after swallowing a mouthful of food.
Anna was sitting next to his bed, a plate of boiled potatoes, carrots, and stewed beef on her lap.
‘Yes,’ Anna said.
‘How old?
Anna looked down at
the food, feeling embarrassed. ‘Fourteen.’
‘I thought you were older.’
‘I guess I look older.’
‘Not a good thing for a fourteen-year-old girl.’
‘I’m not a girl anymore.’
‘Yes you are. And don’t let anyone in here tell you otherwise.’
Anna gave Alex another mouthful. He chewed the meat as he stared into space.
‘You like it here?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
Alex laughed. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me.’
‘I like to help.’
‘You like the idea of helping.’
‘That’s not how it is,’ Anna retorted.
Alex smiled. ‘That’s fine. We do need you here. I just find it strange that a girl of your age is not out in the world having fun.’
‘I’ve never been like other girls.’
‘I’m sure. Your father is Vlad Abayev?’
‘Yes,’ Anna said, surprised. ‘You know my father?’
‘I know who he is, yes. I’m surprised he let you come to this place.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Anna responded. Usually Alex was kind and accommodating but she got the feeling he was trying to test her.
‘Nothing. Forget it.’
She glanced at the tattoos on Alex’s arms and neck, as she often did. She knew from bathing him that he had many more on his torso and back. Prison tattoos, she assumed – there to tell his life story, brag about the crimes he had committed, show his ranking amongst his peers. Though precisely what they indicated she had no idea.
Even though Alex wasn’t that old, the tattoos had become misshapen and crinkled as a result of the vast amount of bodyweight, muscle in particular, that he’d lost. She imagined what he must have looked like in his prime when he was full of life and bulked up. Alex the warrior, rather than Alex the bed-ridden cripple. She would liked to have seen that.
‘You like the tattoos?’ Alex said, catching her eye.
‘I don’t know.’ Anna shrugged. ‘Some are nice. But they must have hurt.’
‘Not as much as earning them.’ Alex paused. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Anna hesitated, feeding Alex another lump of meat. ‘Yes.’
‘Do you like the Mkhedrioni?’
Anna shrugged again.
‘That’s what most of the men here were,’ Alex said.
‘I never thought about it much.’
‘That’s a lie. You tend to us every day. You must have thought about who we are and what brought us here.’
‘It’s not a lie. I’m helping because you need it and because I don’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘You could run away if you don’t like it here.’
‘There’s nowhere for me to run to. And why would I run when I have a safe place to live, and money.’
‘You’re a bright girl, Anna. I see it in you. You’ve got character. You’re different to the others.’
‘Thanks. I think. But I meant what I said. I don’t know much about the Mkhedrioni. I was only nine when we won independence. I’d not heard of the Mkhedrioni before then.’
‘No, but you heard of us since?’
‘Of course. You were everywhere. Every other street in Tiblisi had roadblocks manned by Mkhedrioni. All the boys at school wanted to be just like them. Like you.’
Alex smiled as though fondly reminiscing those deadly days. For a time, the Mkhedrioni had ruled the streets of Georgia – the government too. But in essence they weren’t far removed from the criminal underworld – the Georgian mafia. In fact, many of its highest-ranking members were exactly that.
‘I thought it was terrifying,’ Anna added. ‘You couldn’t go anywhere without having a gun pointed at you.’
‘We were keeping you safe,’ Alex said. ‘We fought for you and for every other Georgian.’
‘Before the Mkhedrioni, were you a soldier?’ Anna asked. ‘In the army?’
‘No. Some here were. Not me. I’m a Vor. But we fought together. Put our differences aside to fight for this country.’
That explained the tattoos. Anna felt herself blush at her naive question, hoping she hadn’t offended Alex. She knew well of the Vory – a subculture adopted through Georgia’s long established links to Russia. Many of the Mkhedrioni’s leaders were Vors. Thieves in law. Men who gave their lives to the criminal code. Not soldiers at all. In fact it was part of the criminal code that a Vor could never be seen to bow down to officialdom of any sort. To serve in the army would have been treachery.
But not all the Mkhedrioni were Vors. Many were ex-Soviet soldiers – like Kankava. Many others were simply bored young men who liked the idea of holding a gun, and had watched too many gangster movies.
The Vors, on the other hand, were men of power and corruption and violence. Men to be feared.
But Alex wasn’t fearsome to Anna. Not anymore.
‘Are you scared of me?’ Alex asked, looking pleased with himself for the revelation of his past life.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘No. That’s right.’ Alex nodded as though impressed with the answer. ‘And you should always believe that. People can try to frighten you, they can tell you things and do things to you against your will, but it’s your choice whether or not to be scared. And if you can’t help but be scared, don’t show it. Never show your weaknesses.’
Alex stopped talking and looked at Anna intently. She wondered whether he was expecting her to speak.
‘I see something in you, Anna,’ he said eventually. ‘I see strength.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you know how I came to be in here?’
‘No.’
‘I was a good fighter. Good with guns, good with knives. I was perfect for the Mkhedrioni. But you know what my downfall was?’
‘What?’
‘I was a show-off. You know the type of man. The top dog. I had to be best at everything. I had to prove myself to my men constantly. Ten of us were swimming in the Black Sea. We took turns finding higher and higher cliffs to jump from. I went higher than any of the others dared. But... look at me now.’
Alex trailed off, his usual upbeat manner dissipating.
‘We all make mistakes,’ he said more solemnly after a few moments of silence. ‘You’re fourteen. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. But it only takes one mistake to change your life forever.’
Alex became distracted. He stared past Anna. She turned and saw Kankava standing in the doorway. Kankava studied Anna for a few seconds and she began to feel uncomfortable.
‘Anna, when you’re finished, I need your help,’ Kankava said.
‘It’s okay.’ She got to her feet. ‘I can come now.’
Kankava turned and walked out. Anna was moving toward the doorway when Alex spoke. His words sent a chill through her.
‘Remember what I said, Anna. Don’t ever show them you’re scared.’
10
Anna followed Kankava down the corridor towards his living quarters. Anna, Maria, and Viktoria shared a single bedroom on the mansion’s top floor, but Kankava had his own private space on the ground floor that included a bedroom, bathroom, lounge, and dining room. His quarters were strictly off limits and Anna had only previously been in there one time when Kankava had sent her in to fetch a jacket for him. As she kept pace behind him, she felt increasingly uneasy at the prospect of leaving the relative safety of the communal areas.
Kankava unlocked the door that led into his space and stood aside to wave Anna through. He shut the door behind her. Anna flicked her gaze across the lounge. Numerous pictures of battle scenes hung on the walls, together with a gigantic centrepiece above an ornate fireplace that showed a gallant St George – a truly nationalist symbol – defeating a gruesome-looking dragon. Below the picture were two ornamental swords, criss-crossed over each other.
‘You shouldn’t listen to everything that Alex tells you,’ Kankava said. ‘The Vory are not me
n to be trusted. Their whole lives are about lying and thieving.’
Anna frowned. ‘But he was a Mkhedrioni. Like you.’
‘I’m nothing like him,’ Kankava said with disdain. ‘The only thing we have in common is that we both fought for Georgia. But we fought in very different ways.’
‘But you’re helping him. By having him here.’
‘Wanting to help someone is different than wanting to like or respect them.’
Anna said nothing but in many ways she realised she agreed with the Colonel’s words.
‘Please, this way. I need your assistance.’
Kankava walked past Anna and into the adjoining bathroom. Anna followed, silently impressed with the exquisite porcelain fittings that looked like they may have been original to the house. But when she looked over to Kankava, she was suddenly filled with dread.
‘My arthritis is getting too bad,’ Kankava explained, holding up his one useful hand. It had an awkward tremor she’d not noticed before. Whether or not the tremor was genuine she wasn’t sure. ‘Maria and Viktoria usually have to do this for me but they were too busy. Please, could you help?’
Kankava looked down at the toilet and Anna tried her best not to show any reaction. Don’t ever show them you’re scared. Words Alex had said to her moments earlier and which were similar to what her father had drummed into her for many years.
‘Of course,’ Anna said, moving forward and reaching out with one hand.
She took hold of the zip on Kankava’s trousers with the tip of two fingers, trying to make as little contact as possible. She clumsily pulled the zip down then shut her eyes as she reached inside, holding back the urge to retch when the stale smell from Kankava’s groin filled her nose. She fumbled for a few seconds before managing to pull out his flaccid penis which she held above the toilet bowl.