by Frank Perry
into a privileged lifestyle under the old Soviet system. Her father was a distinguished Brigadier General and her mother was active in the military wives organization. Their income began diminishing in the mid-1980s as President Reagan intensified U.S. defense spending. She’d had to leave her private school and many of the privileged activities she loved, such as riding her favorite horse in the country on nice weekends; it all had to be stopped. Eventually, they had to move to a smaller apartment and food became scarcer. The cold war with America drained the Russian economy and everyone suffered. Then the greatest tragedy of all occurred on the eve of the Russian retreat from Afghanistan in 1989 when her father’s helicopter was shot down while he surveyed the evacuation of his troops. He was beloved by his soldiers, as he was by his family, but the American’s flooded the Mujahedeen guerrillas with missiles that had killed her father. The Americans had impoverished her family and then killed her father.
As she graduated from primary school into high school, she had developed a hatred for the Americans that stayed with her, and most of her generation, for years. She had been one of the lucky ones; she received high academic marks in high school and an appointment to the Russian State University for the Humanities in Moscow. The anti-capitalist rhetoric had subsided by the time she enrolled, but she retained hatred for the country that destroyed her early life. These feelings had only partially subsided when she was granted a state-sponsored scholarship to study abroad. She chose to go to America to confront her feelings head on. She would immerse herself therapeutically in the culture that haunted her.
She found a source of inspiration and admiration in New York. There was no hatred for Russians as she had expected. Many of her friends at home still hated the Americans, but there were no reciprocal sentiments at NYU. The university and the city were amalgams of global cultures. The very definition of an American was nothing like she had expected There were Russian Americans, Asians, Mexicans, Irish, Germans -- there were Americans from everywhere in the world. There was the United Nations. Americans weren’t a breed apart. They were a global melting pot of cultures from around the world. After two years, she’d actually fallen in love with the idea of America. Everyone she met became a friend. They weren’t monsters as she had been raised to believe.
She returned to Moscow as an enlightened young woman. Not only did she have a degree from NYU, she had an education that none of her Muscovite friends would ever have. It had opened her mind to new ideas. She questioned dogma and political dialogue. She questioned recorded history. It had all been written to manipulate the population. Everyone she knew was affected by it. Americans were far more likely to have an accurate picture of Russians than vice versa. Americans could be exposed to world events without bias.
She could have taken her mother back to America and lived much better, but this was home. She wouldn’t ever be wealthy, but she could find the truth that had been hidden for so long under an oppressive government. She could make a difference in their society by reconstructing the true history of the country after the fall of the Tsar. She returned to Russia inspired to make a difference.
Reality soon prevailed, and she needed to make an income. Welfare could keep them alive, but she could use her intellect and training to improve life for her and her mother, who had been Karina’s inspiration. She initially worked at the Russian State Library, helping researchers and academics find answers to esoteric questions. Almost immediately, people were asking her to work for them outside of normal hours, doing private research. Within months of starting to work at the library, she quit to become an independent consultant. Her boss at the library had encouraged it. He saw her potential and suggested that she should take the opportunity while she was still young. She could always have her job back at the Library.
In less than a year, Karina and her mother moved to a larger, semi-luxurious apartment. Her mother had a new coat and Karina started buying new clothes that she could never have afforded before. They were no longer relying on state subsidies. She could afford private dental care, especially for her mother.
As her experience and reputation grew, she found herself able to select projects and clients; she no longer took every assignment, which further enhanced the quality of her work. She was now the first researcher recommended by most libraries and archivists in the city. This is how Gregori Jelavich’s staff located her.
She’d never had a bad experience before. She expected to have unhappy clients at some point in her career; it just hadn’t happened yet, not until now. Gregori Jelavich scared her. She should have refused to work for him at the beginning, but she was between assignments and too casual about accepting his work. It was only after agreeing to do it and getting instructions that she did research on the man. Even then, she could have accepted a brief assignment and no more, but this was becoming the largest project ever undertaken. It was taking on a life of its own, and she couldn’t stop it. Jelavich would never let her stop now, not now that she knew his objective. She didn’t want to think about how he really enforced non-disclosure agreements. He didn’t go to court to silence violators; he had people that ensured silence – permanently.
She and Evan had exchanged messages for over a week without being seen together. She wanted to see him in person, to be with him. She’d placed a barrier between them when there were no restrictions on them; but now, Evan’s life could be in danger just for seeing her. That knowledge finally catalyzed her feelings. Since their separation and texting, her feeling had grown stronger. Now she felt like risking it. She wanted to be with him.
She didn’t need confirmation that he felt the same; he’d broadcasted it almost from the first moment they’d met. He asked her to follow him to America and now she would, but she wouldn’t be free of Jelavich. He was a global menace and probably already knew everything about Evan. There would be no place for them to hide from him. She needed to finish her work and never see him again. But, was it possible? At this point, the project had a life of its own. There was no ending until he had the gold. She could spend a lifetime looking, but never finding it. He wouldn’t lose interest as long as he could pay her and the gold remained hidden.
Her only choice was to find a way to end her agreement at some milestone, before the gold was located, if it could ever be located. If he would agree to it, she would work hard to reach it and finally clear way to be with Evan. She had to find a way to terminate with Jelavich and stay alive.
Evanoff
His work had become uninteresting. He only thought of Karina. After so many years in academics, studying and teaching, his entire mental being had unexpectedly shifted. He could only think about her – her as a woman and him as a man. It was nuts. Or was it? What is the meaning of life after all? At its basic level, it involves a man and woman and perpetuation of the species. It keeps the human race going. It took him until now to realize it. He’d always put academics ahead of everything, but what had he really accomplished in life? What was his legacy? He hadn’t really accomplished a damn thing. His life had been devoted to understanding the past, his heritage, without focusing on the future. When it was all over, when he was dead, what did he expect to have done? Meeting Karina had changed it all. He now wanted something completely different. His research here, in Moscow, now meant nothing.
His phone rang, indicating an unknown caller, “Hello?”
A deep Russian voice responded, “Is this Mr. Evanoff, Dr. Evanoff?”
He answered cautiously, “Yes it is.”
“Dr. Evanoff, we should meet.”
“What is this about?”
“I prefer to talk to you in person if you do not mind.” The man was suspicious of unencrypted electronic communications. People could be listening.
“Well, I don’t meet with strangers unless I know what it’s about.”
“It involves some work you have been sharing with a certain young lady. I can make your time worthwhile.
” Right now, Evan’s time wasn’t worth anything. Whoever was calling knew about Karina and at least guessed that they had collaborated.
“All right, where and when?”
“Come to Café Pushkin, do you know it?”
“I’ve seen it.” It was more expensive than the places where he’d eaten.
“Good, if you come now, I will be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay, but how ...” He wanted to ask how he would recognize the caller, but the line clicked dead in mid-sentence.
He quickly tried to look presentable, then rushed out to the sidewalk below. The night air was crisp, but dry. He could walk to the café in less than ten minutes with only his BU hoody for warmth.
It was still early for dinner by local standards and the café was almost empty. While he stood at the entrance looking around for someone unknown, a young waitress approached him saying, “Sir, if you will follow me please, your party is waiting.” He shrugged and did as she’d asked.
He was not surprised at the grizzled older man sitting at the booth away from the entrance. His face fit the voice: coarse, raspy, scarred and grey. The man gestured for Evan to sit, “Vodka for my friend, please.” His own glass was already half